The training hall was alive with the rhythm of steel. Wooden floors creaked beneath countless footsteps, the air heavy with the sharp scent of sweat and iron. Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting long orange rays through the high windows, painting the room in molten light.
Among the many trainees, Suyash stood apart. His shirt clung to his back, drenched in sweat, his breaths coming hard and fast. Yet his eyes burned with focus.
He adjusted his stance, tightening his grip on the katana. Slowly at first—one step, one swing, one exhale. The blade whispered through the air. Then faster. His movements grew fluid, building momentum until he moved like a storm let loose in the hall. Each slash cut the air with precision, his footwork carrying him in sharp circles, a cyclone of steel and resolve.
The katana gleamed in the dying sunlight, every motion a testament to years of relentless practice.
When he finally lowered his blade, chest heaving, his coach approached. The older man studied him with a critical eye before offering a rare nod.
"Well done, Suyash. You've been putting in the work—keep it up."
With a few brief corrections on timing and stance, the coach moved on to another trainee.
Suyash wiped his brow, the sting of sweat mixing with the satisfaction of effort. That was when Miya walked past
.
Suyash wiped the sweat from his brow, catching his breath. Just then, Miya passed by. Her lean frame spoke of countless hours of training, her hair tied neatly back, her expression as unreadable as ever. She moved with quiet grace, like a blade sheathed in calm steel.
"Hey, Miya! How was your session?" Suyash called, flashing his usual cheerful grin.
She slowed just enough to glance his way, her voice flat and distant. "It was fine." And with that, she walked on.
Suyash raised a hand anyway, calling after her, "Take care on your way home!"
The silence that followed stung more than he cared to admit.
In this united world, where science and technology thrived, one might wonder why old weapons like katanas still existed. Why cling to swords in an age of machines?
The answer lay in the shards—fragments discovered long ago by one of the eighteen pioneers. Unlike ordinary stones, these shards pulsed with inscriptions, glowing with an otherworldly light. Some were unstable, bursting with violent energy. Others remained calm…
From one such shard, scientists forged a weapon unlike anything humanity had ever seen—greater than bombs, greater than guns. A weapon that turned the tide of war. With shard after shard unearthed, and with the aid of science, those fragments became mystical weapons of unimaginable power. Armed with them, the eighteen pioneers united the fractured world.
But peace never lasts. Rebellions brewed in the shadows—people clinging to their nations, their castes, their faiths. They rejected unity, fighting for the world they had lost.
In Brahmāvarta, where talwaars and heavy claymores dominated, Suyash's choice of weapon was unusual. His katana, light and swift, lacked the brutal striking force of those regional blades. Between to many, it was the weakest option.
"Why are you still using that katana?" his friend Vinay asked as Suyash still resting, his breath ragged from training. "You've got the physique, and your synchronization rate is strong. You could pick a heavier weapon—something that actually hits hard. Why stick to this?"
Suyash's lips curled into a confident smile. He lifted the katana, letting the dying sunlight glint across its edge.
"Because I feel something when I wield it… a resonance. And don't forget—one of the pioneers fought with a katana too."
His friend scoffed, eyes lighting with boyish excitement. "Yeah, but that guy was different. Back then, there were no nano-serums. If they had our tech, I bet their sync rate would've hit a hundred… maybe even one-fifty percent!"
Suyash chuckled softly. "That doesn't make sense."
"What do you mean? You've read the stories! They fought like legends—tearing through armies, destroying artillery with a single strike. They were like one-man armies. Some say they could even erase entire nations on their own."
"I know the legends," Suyash admitted, his tone quieter, more thoughtful. "But doesn't it bother you? Not a single photo. No official file. Nothing. It's like they existed… and yet didn't, you know what I think is that all of them were introverts and shy."
His friend's eyes widened. "Yeah, really and you know some even claim one of them was immortal, this proves he must be shy to come out."
Suyash shook his head and laughed, slinging the katana over his shoulder. "Alright, that's enough talk. I need to head home."
"But your home's that way," his friend pointed out, confused.
"Yup," Suyash said with a faint smirk, turning in the opposite direction. "But I've got someone to find first."
"Alright then… see you tomorrow."
With his hand waving he went out.
On Mt. Akash Chumbi
Shaurya searched carefully through the rugged ground where the sensors had detected a shard. His surveillance drone hovered above, its faint hum constant, while the earpiece in his ear crackled softly with Elsa's voice.
"How was your night? You didn't have any nightmares or panic attacks, right?" she asked.
He gave a tired smile. "Nope. I'm glad. My watch is still linked to the injection system—if my heart rate spikes, it'll trigger automatically."
"That's good to hear," Elsa replied with relief.
After some time searching, Shaurya froze. Behind a cluster of bushes, he saw movement. He pushed the branches aside—his breath caught.
Rabbits.
For a moment, his mind refused to believe it. They had gone extinct during the war, wiped out along with countless other animals. And yet, here they were. Small, fluffy, snow-white bundles of life. He crouched closer, wonder mixing with disbelief. They're real… they're actually real.
"Elsa… did you record this?" he asked quietly.
"Record what?"
"The rabbits. Can't you see them in front of me?"
A pause. Then her voice hardened. "Shaurya… what do you mean, rabbits?"
The question sank into him like ice. His breath quickened. Something was wrong.
The air shifted—he spun around, instincts sharp. The mountain, the ground, even the sky bled away into blackness. One blink, and everything was gone.
But strangely, panic didn't come. His pulse was steady, his thoughts calm. Almost unnaturally calm. "Elsa?" he called. "Elsa, I'm experiencing… new symptoms. I need help."
Silence. Nothing but silence.
And then—he fell.
The world dropped out beneath him, dragging him into endless darkness. The rush of air battered his face, then suddenly stopped. The sensation of falling dissolved, leaving only the void.
He tried to stand, but there was no ground. His feet touched nothing, yet somehow he remained upright, suspended in emptiness. His words, when he spoke, scattered into the dark without echo.
A crawling dread spread across his skin. He was being watched—watched by countless unseen eyes. His legs refused to move, locked by fear. But his will pushed back. One step forward. Then another. With each step came a fragile thread of courage.
Yet the further he walked, the heavier his body became. Something clung to his back, weighing him down. His breaths grew ragged, each step harder than the last.
Then—warmth. A sudden breath against his left ear.
Shaurya whipped around, heart pounding. But there was nothing. Nothing but an endless dark where even light itself would be swallowed. His vision betrayed him, and panic surged at last. He stumbled forward in fear—and fell again.
This time, his hands struck something solid. His eyes adjusted to a faint, unnatural glow. Before him rested a cube, its surface shifting as if alive.
A voice erupted from it—not human, not earthly.
"Are you… worthy of it?"
The void trembled. His vision blurred.
And then—hands. Real, human hands shaking him awake. Shaurya's eyes snapped open. Ground guards stood over him, patrol robots buzzing at their sides.
"Are you the scientist Shaurya?" one asked.
His throat was dry. "Yes… that's me."
"You need immediate medical attention. Stay put—the ambulance is coming."
Within minutes, stretcher-bots lifted him into the vehicle. His head pounded with exhaustion as the sirens wailed.
He asked weakly for a communicator. They handed him one, and he called Elsa.
"Shaurya! What happened? You vanished from the feed—"
He closed his eyes, his voice low and heavy. "It's something you'd never expect. I'll tell you… once I arrive."
But even as he spoke, the echo of that voice still lingered in his mind.
TO BE COUNTINUED............….