The path leading back to Rudra Clan was unusually quiet beneath the pale daylight of the sun. It was not the peaceful kind of silence that settled softly over a waking world—it felt tense, suspended, as though even the wind refused to breathe too loudly.

  Eklavya walked beside Ashish with measured steps, neither hurried nor slow, but thoughtful, as if each step pressed deeper into the earth than the last. The earlier incident near Marwah walls lingered like a shadow behind them; neither spoke of it, yet its presence traveled with them like a silent third companion.

  Gravel crunched beneath their boots as they walked forward. The wind stirred dry leaves into soft, swirling patterns. Sparrows scattered through tree branches, but even nature felt subdued, as if watching them carefully.

  After a long stretch of quiet, Eklavya finally asked, voice even but with a question threaded beneath it, “Is Anshvi back? Mother said she hasn’t returned from the Auction House since yesterday.”

  He didn’t turn to look at Ashish, didn’t change any tone or expression, but his brother noticed the slight tension in his voice—the subtle pause before he spoke her name.

  Ashish’s lips curled into a smirk almost instantly. His eyes warmed with mischief, amusement rising like sparks from a flint. “Oh? Now that is interesting.” He leaned close enough that his shoulder brushed Eklavya’s. “First time I’m hearing you ask about a girl that you are worried about, little brother?”

  Eklavya’s expression remained cool, untouched by teasing. “No, I only asked for information. She got in trouble because of me with the Falling Leaf Sect. If anything happened, responsibility would fall on me too.”

  “That isn’t what I asked,” Ashish said, his grin never fading.

  Eklavya ignored it for a few steps, his gaze fixed ahead on the familiar stone path leading to his home. “I am not interested in such things. The only thing which matters to me is strength. Nothing else.”

  Ashish shook his head slowly, amusement still present but no longer sharp. “You say that, yet you were the one who pulled her out of danger that day. You were restless when she didn’t appear today. I have never seen you worried like that, and trust me—I watch you more closely than you think.”

  Eklavya didn’t respond immediately. He exhaled, almost in thought. His brows did not furrow, but there was a shift—something faint and unspoken beneath his calm.

  “She was dragged into conflict because of me,” he murmured. “Anyone would feel responsible. That is all.”

  But Ashish wasn’t convinced. He glanced at his brother with knowing eyes, the kind that had watched Eklavya grow since childhood.

  “You don’t even understand your own feelings. That is fine. But remember this, Eklavya—people do not wait forever. If you ignore what your heart wants for too long, one day you may realize it stood at your side only to turn and walk away.”

  His words landed softly yet heavily, like a stone sinking into still water.

  The Rudra Clan gates came into view—tall, carved with history, guarded by warriors who nodded respectfully as they entered. The courtyard inside was alive with motion: disciples sparred with wooden swords, elders observed with discerning eyes, young children chased each other between pillars, and servants hurried across pathways carrying scrolls and tea. Everything was happening as usual on a normal day.

  Unaware it was about to break like shattered glass.

  As they walked deeper into the clan grounds, Ashish spoke again, voice quieter and more thoughtful.

  “You always say you want strength. You live for it… breathe for it. But someday you must know why. Strength without direction is like a river without banks—it flows yet reaches nowhere.”

  Eklavya looked toward the Clan Leader Hall, where their father spent most of his time overseeing affairs. He searched his mind for an answer, but like always, he found none. Strength was the only thing he ever recognized—no beginning, no reason, just a force pulling him forward like destiny.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted at last, tone subdued but honest. “I have wanted strength since the moment I remember existing. It feels… necessary to me.”

  Ashish only smiled, as if he had expected exactly that.

  After a long breath, Magha finally spoke, his words neither gentle nor cruel, but carved with truth. “You must decide what you feel for that girl,” he said, from inside his ring to his mind through telepathy. “If you leave those emotions unresolved, if you let them fester in the corner of your heart, then even something as small as affection will become a chain around your ankle. It will hold you back, pull you away from the path you wish to walk, and in time, become a barrier standing between you and strength.” His voice sank lower, heavy with caution rather than accusation. “Feelings are not a weakness, Eklavya—but running from them is.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  They reached the entrance of the Clan Leader Hall. The thick wooden doors stood tall, polished yet intimidating with the emblem of Rudra carved across them. Eklavya paused, tilting his head slightly.

  “Why are we here?”

  “Father sent me to buy some materials,” Ashish replied casually, hand reaching for the handle of the door. “I need to inform him.”

  But the door never opened. Because at that very heartbeat—

  Something started to fall from the sky.

  It was not graceful or controlled. It crashed violently on the ground, like the heavens themselves threw down a verdict. The ground trembled as a body slammed into the earth before the hall, shards of stone scattering as dust burst upward in a choking cloud.

  Both brothers spun and turned behind. Elder Jai lay in the center of the crater. He wasn’t moving nor speaking.

  His robes were torn, soaked with dried blood. His limbs were twisted unnaturally—crushed beyond recognition. Deep cuts mapped his body like a drawing of violence. His fingernails were missing. Bones protruded beneath his broken flesh. He had not died peacefully—he had been tortured with extreme cruelty that even enemies would hesitate to inflict.

  Ashish froze as he saw Elder Jai’s body. Eklavya stood like stone—but his heart felt as if a blade slid cleanly through it.

  They ran to him together, knees hitting the fractured tiles beside the corpse. For a moment, neither spoke anything. They simply stared, their breathing uneven, memories flooding through them like waves—laughter shared in childhood, sparring lessons, sweets sneaked into palms after training, gentle scolding by Elder Jai when both brothers fought each other.

  Elder Jai was more than an elder of their clan. He was like family to those brothers.

  Around them, clan members gathered rapidly—disciples gasping, mothers covering their children’s eyes, elders trembling as they took in the sight. Anguish shivered across the courtyard like wind through dry leaves.

  Eklavya reached out, fingers brushing Jai’s cold sleeve. His chest tightened but his expression hardly shifted. The pain carved itself deeper than tears could express.

  But in this world, no one knows when death will come or how it will take them. Life moves forward beneath a sky of uncertainty, where every heartbeat may be the last, yet people pretend otherwise. They flee from the truth that all are temporary, that existence is fragile, and every connection will one day be severed. No companion walks with them to the final breath; even love must stop at the edge of mortality. Still, they refuse to accept it, because truth tastes bitter, and denial is sweeter than facing the quiet reality that nothing, and no one, remains forever.

  Then a voice cut through the air—booming and mocking with murderous amusement. “If you wish to save the rest of your clan members, come to the Nile Mountain Range—near the Spirit Stone Mine!”

  Laughter followed—wild, callous, echoing across the sky like thunder rolling through hollow bone. Silence collapsed over the Rudra Clan.

  Ishant clenched his trembling fist, his eyes closing briefly as if silently seeking permission from an unseen presence. Around him, the hall was crowded with elders and core family members, every face stiff with shock and disbelief. The corpse on the stone platform was barely recognizable as a man of pride and wisdom.

  Ishant’s voice was not loud, yet it echoed like thunder across the chamber. “Those who seek revenge… those who wish to rescue the innocent miners still suffering in the dark—follow me.”

  The elders rose simultaneously, their eyes burning as their fists clenched, every muscle taut like a bow embracing its final pull. The aura of four Grandmasters and one Half-Step Spirit Warrior surged together, sharp and suffocating. Those below the Master Warrior realm dropped to one knee, gasping for breath under the crushing pressure. Only Eklavya stood unfazed, though he felt the weight pressing against his chest like a mountain of steel.

  Ishant’s aura trembled like a beast begging to break free. If the aura of a Seven-Star Spirit Warrior erupted at its full breadth, no one could predict what devastation would consume the surrounding land. Within a kilometer, houses, streets, everything living and unmoving might crumble beneath the sheer force of his wrath.

  His words cut through the tension like a blade of judgment. “Practitioner Warriors will move on ground—reach the mountain as fast as your legs allow. All Master Warriors who wish to fight for justice, to defend our clan’s dignity, follow me.”

  Not a single head hesitated, nor a single heart faltered.

  Ishant rose into the sky, elders beside him—a storm of power streaking across the horizon toward the infamous Nile Mountain Range. Behind them, nearly two hundred Master Warriors surged upward, their figures like arrows of vengeance piercing through the heavens. Below, seven hundred Practitioner Warriors sprinted in formation across the plains.

  Ashish’s blood burned like molten metal. With a sharp burst of ki, he propelled himself into the air, his speed tearing through the wind as he followed the vanguard. Yet even that rage was nothing compared to the storm within Eklavya.

  He was silent and controlled. But the rage inside him was deadly.

  A tide of emotions, raw and violent, flooded his veins. He activated his Supreme Body, divine patterns appearing across his skin like ancient inscriptions. With a single explosive step, the ground cracked beneath him, and he shot upward like lightning incarnate, streaking toward Nile Mountain without a word. His face remained calm, but inside him burned a furnace hot enough to melt steel.

  Ishant knew well—no alliance between the other two major clans could tip the scale. The Rudra Clan possessed a vast number of Master Warriors, more than any other clan in the city, and strength alone commanded respect. He knew that opposition had the unseen support of the Light Rain Sect, drawn like vultures to the rich medium-grade spirit crystal mines hidden beneath Nile Mountain.

  The enemy had made a grave mistake. They did not just torture an elder—they provoked a lineage forged in war.

  And now, the sky itself trembled as the Rudra Clan marched to settle the debt.