Chapter 17: The Seal of Awakening
Waking up felt like emerging from a sauna. My body was drenched in warmth, not the sticky kind of sweat, but something more rejuvenating—as if I had been reborn. Every muscle in my frame felt compressed and tightly coiled, like the spring of a god-forged weapon. I wasn't bulked up, but I radiated strength, as if my physique had been chiseled by divine intention.
I found myself standing in the center of a familiar yet altered temple hall—the same one from my recurring dreams. But this time, it wasn't endless. The infinite void was gone. The chamber had form and dimension now, solemn and sacred, bathed in a golden hue. Two paths opened up before me, dark corridors that pulsed with quiet energy. One called to me.
As I stepped onto the path, the entrance behind me sealed shut in absolute silence, like the closing of a fate long awaited.
I walked endlessly. Each step echoed like a heartbeat through the stone corridor until it eventually opened into a grand chamber. But the room itself faded into the background the moment I laid eyes on him.
Hanuman.
He stood like a living mountain, easily twelve feet tall, his form exuding a divine majesty that dwarfed my sense of self. His skin shimmered with golden-bronze hues, as if forged from the heart of the sun itself. Each muscle rippled with coiled strength, yet he stood perfectly still, his aura alone suffusing the air with power and reverence.
His eyes—deep fiery orbs—seemed to contain the stars themselves, gazing into the deepest recesses of my soul. My thoughts, my doubts, my desires—he saw all of it, and yet there was no judgment, only knowing.
His face was both fierce and serene, framed by obsidian hair that flowed like ink in water. A golden diadem sat upon his brow, inscribed with symbols of devotion, protection, and eternal duty. Crimson cloth draped over his shoulders, whispering in still air, embodying unwavering service. In one hand, he held a colossal gada etched with runes that pulsed faintly with ancient light. Behind him, his tail swayed slowly, deliberately—a sentinel in motion.
In his presence, I felt both insignificant and infinite.
Then he looked at me. No words. Just a gaze that pierced to my core. His eyes shifted, glowing with blinding gold that bathed the chamber in light. Then slowly, his form began to still—not in rest, but in transition. He turned to stone, not lifeless but dormant. As if his energy had been transferred—to me.
Vijay's POV
The silence that followed was deafening. Gone was the radiant presence. Only a grand statue of Hanuman remained, and I—a lone figure standing before divinity—was left to make sense of it.
The central circle on my chest pulsed. Its once simple pattern had grown more complex, as if it too had been sculpted anew. Feeling awkward yet determined, I took in the hall. The murals on the walls depicted Hanuman's journey: from mischievous child to divine warrior. Crystals and gem-lined symbols lit the chamber, reflecting stories long forgotten.
"Now what do I do?" I muttered aloud.
The only light now came from me. My body glowed like a beacon. Out of habit, I traced the circle on my chest—something I'd done countless times before. But this time, something responded. A jolt of golden current surged through me. My veins lit up, glowing with the same radiance I'd seen in Hanuman's eyes. Power coursed through my body like a river in flood.
That foreign, cold energy surged into the circle. Cracks formed.
Then, it shattered.
Agony unlike anything I had ever known lanced through me—as if I was simultaneously branded and struck by a divine hammer. The circle reformed itself, shifting in shape, chaotic and wild. It flickered, morphing through symbols, until my mind's eye focused on Hanuman's gaze. Then, like a child settling in a parent's arms, the symbol took shape: a pair of luminous eyes.
The eyes embedded themselves on my left collarbone. One of the circles there flowed downward, taking the central spot.
The world around me lost color.
I looked once more at the statue. Something deep within me knew: a great change had occurred. A storm was coming. And I was no longer outside of it. I was its epicenter.
Just before the colors of the world faded entirely, I thought I saw the statue's eyes shimmer with warmth—and perhaps... pride.
Then I awoke.
I was back at Hanuman's constellation altar, lying on cold stone. My shirt was torn. I sat up, running my fingers across my collarbones. Nine intricate circles on the right. Eight on the left. And just beneath them, the symbol of the eyes.
A single circle now sat once again at the center of my chest. Reaching behind, I felt the spear tattoo—and gasped. It was no longer symbolic. It felt etched into flesh and soul.
I slowly stood, facing the statue of Hanuman. It looked so artificial now, like a replica of what I had truly seen. A pale echo of divinity.
Then a voice broke the silence.
"Welcome to the world of the living, Sealbreaker."
The Monkey Saint had arrived.
His voice carried more weight than ever. It was no longer the casual tone I remembered. It pressed upon my spirit, heavier than mountains, deeper than oceans. And in that moment, I knew—the path ahead was one of trial, truth, and transformation.
But I had awakened.
And there would be no turning back.