Arjun Mehra's sandals sank into the mossy jungle floor, the weight of the sage's words still ringing in his ears: The asura prince has marked you. Above, the Bharatvarsha sky had darkened to a deep indigo, streaked with silver clouds that shimmered like the sequins on his cousin's wedding lehenga. The wooden staff in his hand, carved with lotus patterns, felt like a prop from a low-budget mythological serial, not a weapon to fend off demons. His heart still raced from the rakshasa's attack, its red eyes burned into his memory. Survive the night, the Vedic System had commanded, its glowing Sanskrit interface now dormant in his vision. Easier said than done when I can barely spark a firecracker.
The sage, who hadn't bothered to share his name, walked ahead, humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like a raga from an old A.R. Rahman song. "Keep up, city boy," he called without turning. "The gods don't wait for dawdlers."
Arjun scowled, brushing a bead of sweat from his brow. The jungle air was humid, thick with the scent of jasmine and earth, like Delhi after a monsoon shower. "You could at least tell me where we're going," he muttered. "Or, I don't know, explain why an asura prince wants me dead? I'm nobody!"
The sage chuckled, his saffron robes swaying as he navigated a tangle of banyan roots. "Nobody? The Vedic System chose you, Arjun Mehra. That makes you somebody, whether you like it or not." He paused, pointing his staff toward a glow in the distance, where the jungle parted to reveal a sprawling clearing. "Behold, the Festival of a Thousand Flames. Your first test awaits."
Arjun's jaw dropped. The clearing was alive with light, like Diwali had exploded into a fantasy blockbuster. Hundreds of floating lamps, shaped like lotuses, drifted above a bustling market, their flames casting golden patterns on the ground. Stalls draped in crimson and saffron cloth offered glowing fruits that pulsed like tiny suns, while performers juggled orbs of prana—blue-white energy that crackled like sparklers. Temples of carved stone loomed in the background, their spires etched with Vedic runes that shimmered faintly. The crowd was a mix of humans in flowing kurtas, nagas with serpentine tails, and ethereal beings with glowing skin—apsaras, maybe? The air thrummed with sitar music and the rhythmic chant of mantras, like a puja on steroids.
"This… is a festival?" Arjun said, his Delhi cynicism warring with awe. "Looks like Connaught Place on steroids, minus the traffic."
The sage smirked. "The Festival of a Thousand Flames honors the devas, a night to renew prana and seek their blessings. But tonight, it's also a battlefield. The asura prince's minions are near, and you must prove your worth."
Arjun's stomach churned. "Prove my worth? I nearly got clawed by a rakshasa ten minutes ago!"
"Then learn fast," the sage said, handing him a small bronze amulet etched with an Om symbol. "Wear this. It will amplify your mantras—for now." He vanished into the crowd with a wink, leaving Arjun clutching the amulet like a lifeline.
Great, ditched by a cosmic uncle, Arjun thought, slipping the amulet around his neck. The Vedic System pinged, its interface flickering: Item Equipped: Amulet of Prana. Mantra Efficiency +10%. He snorted. "What's next, a tutorial level?"
The festival's energy pulled him in. He wandered past a stall where a naga vendor offered prasad-like sweets that glowed faintly. "Try one, hero," she hissed, her forked tongue flicking. Arjun declined, his mind flashing to Delhi's street food—at least those didn't glow. A group of children ran past, tying shimmering threads on each other's wrists, like a Raksha Bandhan ritual but with threads that pulsed with light. The normalcy of it, despite the fantastical setting, made his chest ache. He thought of Dipti, his sister, who'd tie a rakhi on him every year, teasing him about his "heroic" laziness. Wonder what she'd think of this madness.
A scream shattered his thoughts. The crowd parted as a woman leapt onto a stone platform, her trishul glinting under the floating lamps. She was tall, her dark braid swinging like a whip, her armor etched with Vedic symbols that glowed faintly blue. Her eyes, sharp as a katar's blade, scanned the crowd. "Asura spawn!" she shouted, pointing her trishul at a cloaked figure slinking through the stalls. The figure hissed, revealing a scaly arm—a rakshasa in disguise.
Arjun froze, the amulet warm against his chest. The woman's gaze locked onto him, and she barked, "You, kurta boy! Move, or you're dead!" Before he could protest, the rakshasa lunged, its claws slashing toward a child clutching a glowing thread.
Instinct kicked in. Arjun gripped his staff, the amulet buzzing. "Om Prana Ignis!" he yelled, the mantra clearer this time. A burst of sparks shot from his hand, stronger than before, singeing the rakshasa's cloak. It roared, turning its red eyes on him. Oh, crap, bad idea.
The woman was a blur, her trishul spinning as she vaulted over a stall and drove the weapon into the rakshasa's shoulder. It howled, swiping at her, but she dodged with the grace of a Kathak dancer, her armor clinking like temple bells. "Stay back, novice!" she snapped at Arjun, her voice sharp but not unkind. With a final thrust, she pinned the rakshasa to the ground, its body dissolving into black mist.
The crowd cheered, but the woman's eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows. She strode toward Arjun, her trishul lowered but still menacing. "Who are you?" she demanded. "No ordinary fool chants a mantra like that."
Arjun swallowed, his throat dry as Delhi in summer. "I'm… Arjun. Just, uh, got here. Reborn, apparently." He gestured vaguely at the jungle. "Vedic System, Chosen One, all that jazz."
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "Priya, Guardian of the Flame Temple. You're the sage's new pet, then." She studied him, her gaze softening slightly. "That amulet marks you as his student, but you're greener than a monsoon field. Why did the system choose you?"
"Beats me," Arjun said, trying for a grin. "I was just eating golgappas in Delhi yesterday."
Priya snorted, but her eyes flicked to the sky, where the lamps flickered unnaturally. "No time for your city tales. The asura prince's minions are targeting the festival. They seek the Flame of Agni, a relic in the temple." She pointed to the largest temple, its spire pulsing with golden light. "If they claim it, Bharatvarsha falls."
The Vedic System pinged: Quest Updated: Protect the Flame of Agni. Reward: 50 Karma Points, New Mantra. Arjun's jaw tightened. "So, I'm supposed to fight demons with sparks? I'm not exactly Arjuna from the Mahabharata."
Priya's gaze hardened, but a spark of curiosity flickered. "You know the epics. Good. You'll need that spirit." She handed him a small dagger, its hilt carved with a lotus. "Stay close, city boy. You're not ready, but you're all we've got."
Before Arjun could protest, a low rumble shook the clearing. The floating lamps dimmed, and a chorus of hisses echoed from the jungle. Shadows moved—more rakshasas, their eyes glowing like embers. Above, the asura prince's silhouette appeared on a floating island, his crimson eyes locked on the temple. Priya gripped her trishul, her voice low. "They're here. Move, Arjun, or this festival becomes a graveyard."
The system flashed: Karma Points: +20. Warning: Hostile Forces Detected. Arjun clutched the dagger, his heart pounding like a dhol drum. Golgappas were definitely easier than this.