The night pressed heavy over the ruins of Takṣaśilā.
Shiva stood before the colossal statue of Indra, the cracks across its face glimmering faintly with traces of dormant lightning. The faint pulse from within the idol had vanished as quickly as it came, leaving behind an almost mocking silence.
He ran a hand across the cold stone, whispering, "What are you hiding?"
The Interface flickered dimly above his palm.
[Hidden Mechanism Detected — Energy Source Inactive]
[Requirement Not Met: Divine Resonance Signature Missing]
"Divine resonance," Shiva muttered. "I'm not a god."
He took a step back, frustration gnawing at him. The vast ruins around him were silent, the only sound the whisper of wind over ancient stones. He looked down at his hands — one gripping Vajra-Agnī, his hammer; the other holding the sword given by Shyam Baba.
Two relics of a broken world.
He exhaled slowly, exhaustion and confusion mixing like smoke in his chest. Then, faintly, the hammer pulsed — once, twice — like a heartbeat. The sword responded, its edge humming with a thin thread of blue light.
He blinked. "Wait…"
He stared at the inscriptions engraved into both weapons.
The hammer's runes shimmered faintly: Vajra-Agnī — the Fire of Thunder.
And the sword's hilt bore a name, now clear under the moonlight: Vajra-Vāyu — the Breath of Thunder.
"Vajra…" he whispered, realization dawning. "Indra's weapon."
His pulse quickened. Could it be the same energy?
He held both weapons before him — one in each hand — and felt the vibration between them. The air around him began to shift, humming with static.
The Interface buzzed faintly.
[Cross-Resonance Detected]
[Energy Type: Electrokinesis — Latent]
[Warning: Unstable Link]
The words flickered, but Shiva wasn't reading anymore. He could feel it — the faint thread of lightning connecting both weapons, coursing through his veins like a whisper of storm.
He sat down cross-legged before the statue, placing the weapons across his lap.
The ruins glowed faintly under the cold moonlight. Dust hung like frozen stars in the air.
He closed his eyes.
"Vajra," he murmured. "If you were the weapon of the gods… then teach me how to wield you."
His breathing steadied — deep, rhythmic. The hum of the Interface faded into silence. All that remained was the faint sound of wind… and the memory of the Gayatri Mantra, echoing softly within him.
He began to chant — slow, deliberate, every syllable vibrating through his chest.
"Oṁ Bhūr Bhuvaḥ Swaḥ…"
Each repetition steadied his heartbeat. The weapons began to warm — first faintly, then fiercely.
Sparks danced along the hammer's veins. The sword's edge shimmered with light.
The ground beneath him trembled.
[Energy Synchronization — 47% … 62% … 79%]
[Warning: Overload Risk — High]
He ignored it.
Sweat ran down his brow, his focus unbroken. The words of the mantra grew louder in his mind — flowing not as prayer, but as command. His blood hummed with the rhythm of thunder.
The air filled with static. The ruins began to vibrate.
[Energy Synchronization — 100%]
[System Note: Unknown Phenomenon Detected]
With a sound like a thunderclap, lightning burst from his palms.
Blue and green arcs of energy crackled between hammer and sword, leaping outward, coiling around his body like living serpents. The air shimmered with heat and ozone.
For a moment, the colossal statue of Indra seemed to breathe again — its cracked eyes flickered to life, glowing with the same electric hue.
Shiva opened his eyes.
Lightning danced across his skin — wild, raw, alive.
The weapons no longer felt separate. They pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
He smiled faintly, whispering, "The storm… listens."
From the darkness beyond the courtyard, a figure watched — the Yaksha, half-shadow, half-light. His mouth curved in the faintest smile.
"So… the child of fire learns to call the thunder," he murmured. "Good. Let the heavens remember their heir."
As lightning surged through the ruins, illuminating the ancient carvings across the broken walls, something deep beneath the ground responded — a low hum, like the awakening of a sleeping beast.
And far above, clouds gathered, thunder rumbling softly — as if the world itself had begun to breathe again.
End of Chapter 9: The Thunder Within