When Mukul woke the next morning, the air around him felt different. It wasn't just the island breeze—it was the presence of five people standing before him, each radiating a strength that words could hardly describe. Their calm eyes carried both wisdom and untold stories.
One of them stepped forward, a tall man in a simple robe. His movements were graceful, every step measured, as if he were part of the flowing wind.
"I am Li Wei, but the world once called me The Dragon Palm," he said with a small bow. His voice was steady, almost soothing. Coming from China, he had trained in Shaolin martial arts, Tai Chi, and Qi cultivation since childhood. He was also a master of acrobatics and ancient Chinese medicine. People once sought him from across the world for healing and guidance. But Li Wei had vanished years ago. "I left because fame blinded me. Power without humility destroys the spirit. That is why I chose silence over glory."
Mukul listened, wide-eyed. He had never met someone who could speak with such calm authority.
Next came a woman with sharp, focused eyes. She carried a sword at her side, but her aura was even sharper than the blade.
"My name is Aria Nakamura, the world called me The Silent Blade." From Japan, she had mastered Kenjutsu, ninjutsu, stealth arts, Taekwondo, Judo, and even the design of secret gadgets. Her swordsmanship was unmatched—her movements flowed so silently that one could blink and miss her strike. "I disappeared because the world wanted me to be a weapon, nothing more. I wanted to remain human."
Mukul could sense both her strength and loneliness. Something was haunting in her words that touched him deeply.
The third master stood tall, his presence like a mountain. His dark eyes held the fire of determination.
"Rajveer Singh. They called me The Iron Fist." Born in India, he had learned the ancient martial art of Kalarippayattu, meditation, yoga, and even deep techniques of the mind. His fists, hardened through years of channelling inner energy, were said to be as strong as iron. Yet he was not just a fighter. He carried knowledge of culture, negotiation, and even the power to control emotions. "I left the world," Rajveer said, "because I saw greed in those who wanted my strength. I will never be someone else's tool."
Mukul felt a shiver. The power in Rajveer's voice was enough to silence even the waves.
A soft laugh broke the intensity. The fourth master stepped forward, a woman with fierce yet warm eyes. She stood like a warrior but smiled like a friend.
"I am Amara Nkrumah, called The Lioness of Savannah," she said proudly. From Ghana, she carried the strength of tribal combat, African drumming that pulsed with energy, and survival knowledge of the harshest wilderness. She was agile, fearless, and her stamina seemed endless. "I left the world because it feared me. They didn't understand that a woman could fight like a lion, lead like a queen, and still laugh like a child."
Her energy was contagious. Mukul felt a spark of courage just standing near her.
The last of the five stepped forward with a dancer's ease. His every motion seemed to ripple the air.
"Kwame Diallo. The Storm Caller." From Senegal, he mastered Capoeira, elemental wind cultivation, and the art of weaving combat into dance. He could summon bursts of wind with a single movement, and his jungle survival knowledge made him a legend. But Kwame was also an artist, a craftsman who turned battle into rhythm. "I hid," he said softly, "because the world doesn't forgive those who dance differently. They feared what they couldn't control."
For a long moment, silence settled between Mukul and the five masters. Each of them had once been larger than life, yet they had all chosen to walk away from fame, from power, from the world itself.
Mukul felt a storm of emotions inside him—shock, wonder, and a little fear. Why would such people, legends in their own right, stand before him now?
It was Li Wei who broke the silence. He placed a hand on Mukul's shoulder, his palm warm and steady.
"We saw your heart, child. Alone, yet unbroken. That is why we chose you. Not as a student… but as family."
Mukul's eyes widened. Family? Adoption? His throat tightened. He had been abandoned, forgotten, left to survive on his own. And now, these five extraordinary people wanted to claim him as their own.
Tears stung his eyes, but this time they weren't from pain. They were from hope.
For the first time in his life, Mukul whispered with trembling lips—
"Thank you… I won't let you down."
The five masters exchanged knowing smiles. This was only the beginning.