The island seemed to breathe differently that evening. Mukul sat near the fire with the first five masters, his heart still heavy with the weight of their words. But then, he sensed another wave of presence—strong, elegant, and commanding. Five more figures stepped into the light, each carrying an aura as unique as the stars above.
The first was a woman dressed in crimson, her steps light yet commanding. Every movement of her body seemed like a dance, but the sword at her hip told another story.
"Isabella Rossi," she said with a graceful bow. "The Scarlet Dancer." From Italy, Isabella was unlike anyone Mukul had seen. She had fused the elegance of ballet with the deadliness of swordplay, her fencing fluid like water. But her talents didn't stop there—she was also a brilliant mind, skilled in architectural design, engineering, and survival within cities where every alley could be an enemy's trap. "To me, art and battle are one. A strike should be as beautiful as it is lethal."
Mukul stared, amazed. She moved as if the world itself were her stage.
Then came a towering figure with icy eyes that seemed to pierce through the night. His broad frame carried the weight of battles fought in snow and shadow.
"Viktor Volkov. They called me The Ice Bear." Born in Russia, Viktor mastered Sambo wrestling, frost energy cultivation, and the skills of a spy. He could survive in the deadliest winters, speak countless languages, and think ten moves ahead in strategy. His fists struck with the weight of glaciers. "I hid because men feared me more than they respected me. Ice preserves, but it also isolates."
Mukul felt a chill, not from the wind, but from Viktor's presence itself.
The third was a woman whose eyes carried the depth of oceans and the mystery of the stars. She leaned lightly on a staff, her posture calm, as though she already knew what Mukul was about to ask.
"Selene Dimitriou. The Oracle of Aegean." From Greece, she carried the wisdom of ancient philosophy, the gift of divination, and the mastery of staff fighting. She had studied archaeology, languages, and even the harsh survival of deserts. Her energy shimmered with foresight. "The future speaks in whispers," she said softly. "I listened too long, and the world began to fear my voice."
Mukul swallowed hard. Her gaze made him feel both seen and exposed, as though she could read the path of his life before it unfolded.
Then came a figure wrapped in desert colours, her eyes burning like the sun itself. She carried a spear with effortless strength, her stance sharp and proud.
"Aaliyah Carter, called The Desert Falcon." From Egypt, she was a master of spear combat, desert survival, and the lost languages of her ancestors. Her cultivation was tied to the sun, each strike glowing with radiant energy. "The desert teaches you to endure, to strike fast, and to shine. But the world only wanted my power, never my truth."
The heat of her aura was so intense that Mukul thought the air itself was shimmering.
Finally, a man strode forward with a grin that was equal parts charm and danger. His twin blades rested at his sides, and his confident stance carried the rhythm of a matador.
"Diego Ramirez. The Bull of Madrid." From Spain, his combat drew inspiration from bullfighting—fierce, fast, and utterly unpredictable. He was also a master of guerrilla tactics, mechanical design, and even motorbikes. His strikes were a dance of fire and steel. "I left because the world wanted to chain me. But bulls are not meant for cages."
Mukul couldn't help but smile at Diego's energy. He was wild, but alive in an inspiring way.
The fire crackled, and the five new masters sat among the others. Each one carried scars of their past, yet here they were, united in this hidden island, staring at Mukul with eyes that saw possibility.
Ten masters now. Ten legends. And they had all chosen him.
Mukul's chest tightened, a storm of disbelief and gratitude swirling inside him. He had once been nothing but a boy abandoned by the world. Now, the very people who had turned their backs on fame and power were offering him something greater than either—family, knowledge, and destiny.
He clenched his fists, his voice trembling yet strong.
"I will learn. I will listen. I will become worthy of all of you."
And for the first time, the island's fire seemed to roar brighter, as though it too believed in him.