The road north ended in silence.
Shiva stood at the edge of what once was Takṣaśilā University. The wind howled through broken stone spires and melted archways, carrying with it the faint scent of burnt copper and something older—knowledge turned to dust.
The ground shimmered faintly beneath his boots. Each step closer made the Interface flicker.
[Location Discovered — Ruins of Takṣaśilā University]
[Status: Forbidden Zone]
[Warning: High Residual Energy Detected]
He stopped before a massive gate — twin pillars of black stone engraved with shifting glyphs. The carvings pulsed faintly, like veins under skin. Between them, a shimmering wall of green energy blocked the path.
Shiva raised a hand. "Guess it's not just for decoration."
Before he could touch it, the air turned cold.
From the shadow of the left pillar, a figure emerged — tall, thin, wrapped in tattered robes darker than night. His skin gleamed obsidian black, not painted or burnt, but as if carved from living darkness itself. His eyes glowed faintly white, unblinking.
The Interface pulsed violently.
[Unknown Entity Detected — Classification: ???]
[Name: Yaksha]
[Threat Level: Unknown]
[Caution: Hostile Intent Unconfirmed]
The figure's voice was like thunder rolling through hollow mountains.
"Traveler. You stand before the bones of wisdom. Why do you seek what was buried?"
Shiva gripped the handle of Vajra-Vayu, the sword humming faintly. "I seek answers. About the past. About myself."
The Yaksha's pale eyes narrowed. "Answers are heavier than corpses, blacksmith. Few survive carrying both."
"I've carried worse," Shiva said, his voice steady despite the tension curling in his chest.
The Yaksha tilted his head slightly, studying him. "You reek of death and rebirth. You are touched by something not of this age."
"Yeah," Shiva muttered. "You could say I got… upgraded."
That earned a faint ripple of amusement from the being. "The System's child, then."
Shiva froze. "You know about the Interface?"
"I was there," the Yaksha said softly. "When the first code of life was written. When sādhanā turned to syntax, and gods turned to data."
The words hit like hammers. "You're saying… this System isn't new?"
"Nothing is new," the Yaksha replied, stepping closer. "Only rewritten."
He stopped just beyond the energy barrier. The light flickered with his presence, bending around him like it feared to touch him.
"Tell me, blacksmith," the Yaksha said. "In the years you were dead, the world decayed further. Men turned to beasts. Beasts turned to dust. What have you learned in your short second life?"
Shiva clenched his jaw. "That pain never leaves. That the world doesn't wait. And that if you want answers, you have to make them."
The Yaksha's gaze softened — almost approving.
"Good. But you are not yet worthy to enter these ruins. Takṣaśilā demands remembrance, not vengeance."
"Then tell me how to earn it."
The Yaksha raised his staff, the tip glowing with faint blue fire. "Three questions. Answer truthfully, and the gate will open."
Shiva nodded slowly. "Ask."
The fire flared brighter.
"First," the Yaksha said, "what is stronger — creation or destruction?"
Shiva hesitated, then answered, "Neither. Both are tools. It's the one who wields them that matters."
The Yaksha's eyes flickered with light. "A blacksmith's answer. True enough."
"Second," the voice rumbled, "what do you seek in these ruins — truth or power?"
"Truth," Shiva said instantly. "Power's useless if you don't know what broke the world."
"Honest," the Yaksha murmured. "Dangerous… but honest."
Then the third flame flared, blinding in its intensity.
"Final question, reborn one — if you could bring back the one you lost, but lose yourself forever, would you?"
Shiva's breath caught.
Aparna's face flashed before his eyes — her smile, her scream.
The hammer's hum in his chest turned faint, uncertain.
His throat was dry when he finally spoke.
"Yes," he whispered. "Every damn time."
The Yaksha stared at him for a long, silent moment. The fire died out, leaving only the sound of the wind between them.
Then — a faint smile. Not kind. Not cruel. Simply knowing.
"You have answered well. But your truth burns too brightly. The gates will not yet bear it."
The green wall flared higher, sealing the entrance completely.
"Wait—what do you mean?" Shiva shouted.
The Yaksha turned, his voice fading into the wind.
"When your heart learns silence, and your rage turns to resolve, the gates will open. Not before."
And with that, the figure dissolved into smoke, leaving only the whisper of his last words.
[Quest Updated — "Trial of the Yaksha"]
[Objective: Prove Worthiness to Enter the Ruins]
[Status: Incomplete]
[Hint: Calm the Heart, Not the Hammer]
Shiva stood alone before the glowing gate, jaw tight.
"Calm the heart," he muttered bitterly. "Easier said than done."
The ram's pulse thudded inside him again, faintly echoing the Yaksha's fading energy — as if the beast itself had understood something he didn't.
He looked up at the sealed ruins.
"Fine," he said quietly. "If the world wants to test me, I'll break every damn gate it throws."
The hammer on his back flared green once more, like a heartbeat.
And somewhere deep within the ruins, unseen and waiting, a faint mechanical whisper stirred —
[Observation: Subject near Synchronization Threshold.]
[The Wanderer smiles.]
End of Chapter 6: The Gatekeeper of Ashes