The ruins of Takṣaśilā stretched endlessly before him — hollow corridors, collapsed pillars, and the echo of a thousand forgotten lessons.
Shiva stepped carefully through the dust and stone. His hammer glowed faintly, its emerald veins casting shifting patterns across the shattered walls. Every corner, every crevice, every ancient doorway — empty.
Not a single relic. Not even bones.
Only silence.
[Search Mode Active]
[Scanning Area: 100% Complete]
[Result: No Artifact Signature Detected]
He scowled. "No artifact, no treasure, no answers… so what the hell was the point of that gate?"
The Interface didn't respond. It simply flickered dimly, as if conserving energy.
He spent hours wandering through the wreckage — examining fallen inscriptions, lifting broken slabs, prying open stone chests filled with nothing but dust. His boots left marks on the ancient floors, his breath echoing in the emptiness.
Takṣaśilā — once the greatest university of Bharat — now felt like a corpse drained of memory.
By dusk, his frustration burned hotter than exhaustion.
He slammed his hammer into a wall, sending a dull echo through the ruins. "Is this it?! Is this what I came here for?!"
The sound of his own voice mocked him, bouncing off the stone until it died.
He dropped to one knee, sweat mixing with ash. "I faced monsters, bled for this, and you—"
He looked up at the sky, voice hoarse. "—you brought me back for *nothing*?"
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then the air shimmered.
From the rippling haze above the courtyard, a shape descended — tall, dark, and still as midnight. The Yaksha.
His skin was obsidian black, his eyes faint blue flames. He regarded Shiva in silence, the faint hum of power vibrating through the ground.
Shiva gritted his teeth. "You again."
The Yaksha's voice was calm, deep, and echoing — like water over stone.
"You seek meaning in emptiness. That is why you see nothing."
Shiva stood. "I've been through every corner of this place. There's nothing left here."
"Not all knowledge lies in what remains visible," the Yaksha said. "The true vault of Takṣaśilā hides beneath faith — and doubt."
"Faith?" Shiva scoffed. "Faith didn't save this place."
"Perhaps not," the Yaksha murmured, "but it left behind a key. Find the statue of Indra. Only he may reveal what still breathes below."
Before Shiva could ask another question, the Yaksha's form dissolved into smoke — a whisper fading into the ruins.
Shiva exhaled slowly. "A statue… of Indra."
He spent the next few hours searching again — this time not for relics, but for any carving, relief, or temple base that could bear the name of the god of storms.
Finally, near the collapsed amphitheater at the university's heart, he found it.
A colossal statue half-buried in sand — Indra seated upon Airavata, his many-armed form holding weapons of thunder and flame. But the face was cracked, and his eyes were gouged out.
Vajra-Agnī pulsed faintly in Shiva's hand — almost in recognition.
[Energy Signature Detected: 72% Match — System Origin Core Fragment]
His heart quickened. "So you were here."
He stepped closer. Strange runes ran along Indra's arms, glowing faintly beneath centuries of grime. The air smelled of ozone, the faint hum of static surrounding the idol.
He brushed off the dust, tracing the runes with his fingers — but they were incomprehensible, the symbols shifting like sand when he tried to focus.
"Interface, translate this."
[Analyzing…]
[Result: Unknown Language Protocol — Access Denied]
[Note: Source Predates Current System Architecture]
He frowned. "Predates… the system?"
That meant this wasn't just an old temple. This was the origin site.
Shiva stared at Indra's expression — half divine, half mechanical, the cracks along his face revealing glimpses of metal beneath stone.
"Are you watching too?" he murmured.
No answer.
The air around him grew still.
Even the faint hum of the Interface dulled, as if waiting for something.
He tried pressing his palm to the statue's base. Nothing. Tried channeling the hammer's energy — still nothing.
By nightfall, the ruins glowed faintly beneath the twin moons. Shiva sat against Indra's foot, hammer resting on his knee, frustration etched deep in his eyes.
"Yaksha sends me here, you stand silent… is that how this world works now?"
The statue loomed above him — quiet, eternal.
Then, just as sleep began to pull at his mind, he felt it.
A pulse — faint but rhythmic.
Not from the ground.
From within the statue.
He looked up sharply.
The glow in Indra's cracked eyes flickered once — then died.
[Notification: Hidden Mechanism Detected — Source Inactive]
[Requirement Not Met: ???]
Shiva stared at the screen, jaw tightening.
"Requirement… not met," he muttered. "Then what the hell do you want me to do?"
No response. Only silence — and the faint echo of thunder somewhere far beyond the horizon.
He clenched his hammer tighter. "Fine. If the gods won't speak… I'll make them."
The ruins around him hummed once more — distant, patient, waiting.
And somewhere beyond the clouds, unseen eyes watched.
[Observation Continues — The Wanderer smiles.]
End of Chapter 8: The Statue of Indra