Aashi ran through the corridor with her breath caught in her chest, her steps quick and unsteady as Ishant’s panicked voice echoed earlier, telling her their son had collapsed.

  The moment she pushed open the door, her gaze fell on Anshvi sitting by Eklavya’s side, holding his limp hand tightly. For the briefest heartbeat, a fond smirk touched Aashi’s lips, the kind that came naturally whenever she saw the girl who had unknowingly become dear to her over the years.

  But that expression shattered almost instantly when her eyes locked onto Eklavya’s unconscious body. His face was ghastly pale, his chest rising with shallow, weakening breaths, and the huge but unstable ki rippling under his skin, made her heart drop into a pit of dread.

  She hurried to the bedside, her voice trembling as she knelt beside him. “Why is he like this? And his breath… Why is it so weak?” Her words broke apart, trembling with fear and disbelief as she touched his cheek with shaking fingers.

  Anshvi tried to form an answer, but the moment she looked at Aashi’s tear-brimmed eyes, something inside her crumbled. Instead of speaking, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Aashi, burying her face in her shoulder.

  Aashi stiffened in surprise—this girl rarely initiated closeness, always polite, laughing whenever she talked to her and composed—but now she clung desperately, like a terrified child seeking the only comfort she trusted.

  Aashi slowly raised her hands and embraced her, patting her back gently as though soothing a daughter. “It’s alright,” she whispered, though she didn’t fully believe her own words. “He will be fine.” The atmosphere in the room was heavy with fear and uncertainty, and even as she held Anshvi, Aashi’s eyes kept drifting back to her son.

  His ki pulsed beneath his skin, unstable and growing stronger in sharp, erratic bursts. It was unnatural—his life force weakening while his ki rose uncontrollably. The scene unsettled Aashi deeply, stirring memories as she saw Anshvi like this.

  …

  It had been four years since the day she first met Anshvi, a day painted in chaos and blood. The Nile Mountain Range had been volatile then, its beast population swelling so suddenly that multiple clans joined forces to cull the threat. The Rudra Clan had been among them, led by Ishant.

  Eklavya had insisted on joining the hunt despite being only twelve, standing proudly at his father’s side with the naive eagerness of a boy who wanted to prove himself. Ishant brought him along to show him the ways of the wild, how cultivators confronted danger and how life in their world demanded strength.

  Eklavya was still in the Sacral Chakra Opening Stage back then but he carried his sword tightly, eyes wide with curiosity and anxiety.

  The group moved cautiously through the dense forest, every step deliberate, every sense sharpened, but even their heightened vigilance could not prevent the inevitable. A deep rumble spread through the woods, shaking leaves loose from the branches.

  The air thickened with killing intent. Beasts emerged from every direction, creating a crescent wall of fur, fangs, and bloodlust. Three-tier beasts formed the bulk of the horde with glistening claws and snarling jaws, and behind them stood a massive fourth-tier monster with dark crimson scales that reflected the dim sunlight. For a moment, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath.

  Ishant’s voice barked commands instantly, and the warriors of the clan formed a defensive formation around their young master. The clash began with a deafening roar. Steel met claws, ki met muscle, and the ground shook as men and beasts fought in a frenzy of survival. Even the seasoned warriors were pushed to their limits by the relentless waves, their formation tightening little by little.

  Ishant fought fiercely, one arm always angled protectively toward Eklavya, who stood trembling in the center, gripping his sword with whitening knuckles. But the fourth-tier beast demanded Ishant’s full strength, and dividing his attention proved costly.

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  A three-tier beast lunged from the flank, breaking through the formation at a dangerous angle. Eklavya tried to react, swinging his sword, but he was too slow. The beast’s paw slammed into his side, hurling him backward with terrifying force. He tumbled down the mountain slope, rolling over rocks, crashing through bushes, scraping against tree trunks, unable to stop himself until the ground leveled several hundred meters below. Blood filled his mouth, his ribs screamed in agony, and his vision swayed—but he didn’t lose consciousness.

  As he forced himself onto his hands, he froze. Ahead of him, two three-tier beasts prowled toward a girl leaning against a large tree. She appeared older than him—maybe sixteen—with torn, blood-soaked clothes, a double-bladed spear clutched weakly in her hands, and an aura of exhaustion clinging to her.

  Her breathing was shallow, her injuries were severe, yet she stubbornly held her ground. Even as her knees threatened to give out, she raised her weapon toward the approaching beasts.

  But Eklavya, despite his pain and fear, heard faint shouts echoing down the mountain—his clan calling his name, searching for him, rushing to save him. If they were coming, he wouldn’t die. So perhaps he could buy this girl a little time. And although fear gnawed at him, he did not want to stand and watch someone die when he could still move.

  He pushed himself to his feet, swaying dangerously but refusing to fall. With trembling hands, he pointed his sword at the beasts and stepped between them and the wounded girl. She stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide as he stood fifty meters ahead of her, legs shaking under his weight.

  When her gaze flicked toward Eklavya, confusion flickered in her eyes. “Boy… you’re no match for them. Run…” Her voice trembled, but her warning was sincere.

  He didn’t respond to her. The beasts lunged at him, and he charged as well—his heart was pounding, adrenaline drowning his fear. But his body was not weak but his technique was not perfect.

  One beast swung a paw at him, and before he could block, the blow struck him directly. He crashed back toward the girl, colliding with the ground at her side. Blood spilled from his lips as he lay beside her, both of them panting, injured, and facing death together.

  The girl turned her head slightly, their faces almost touching. She spoke softly, as though sharing a secret. “What’s your name, boy?”

  He coughed, breathing harshly. “Eklavya… Rudra and yours?”

  A faint, weary smile crossed her lips. “Anshvi.”

  He blinked slowly. “Which clan? Any last name?”

  Her expression dimmed after listening to him. She clenched her spear tighter and struggled to stand again, her voice reduced to a strained whisper. “Don’t remember.” She steadied herself, pointing her weapon at the beasts approaching again, ready to fight despite the hopelessness.

  Eklavya tried to rise beside her, smirking through the pain. “Well…”

  Before the beasts reached them, two flying swords slashed through the air, slicing the monsters cleanly. Ishant descended moments later, grabbing his son and pulling him into a desperate embrace.

  His voice broke as he checked Eklavya’s wounds, relief and fear mixing in his expression. But then his attention fell on the girl standing a few steps away, barely conscious but still gripping her weapon. Her injuries were severe, and seeing her struggle to stay upright stirred something in him. Eklavya, weak as he was, murmured, “She’s hurt… bring her with us.”

  Ishant didn’t hesitate and that is how Anshvi entered their lives.

  From that day forward, Aashi–Eklavya’s mother cared for her as though she were her own blood. She begged Anshvi to stay with the family, but the girl always refused, choosing instead to accept a small herbal shop and a permanent room at an inn.

  Yet Aashi visited her every day, delivering food cooked with her own hands, checking on her well-being, and treating her with a warmth Anshvi had never known before.

  ….

  Now, in the present, that same girl clung to Aashi with trembling arms, her chest pressed tightly against Aashi’s shoulder as if holding onto the only steady thing in her panic-stricken world. Aashi gently cupped her face and guided her to sit. “I know what happened,” she murmured softly. “Ishant told me before running to fetch the alchemist. He will be fine.”

  Anshvi nodded, though her eyes remained filled with fear. Together, they sat on either side of Eklavya’s unconscious form. His breath was shallow, barely there, while his ki fluctuated violently inside him, glowing faintly beneath his skin. The room felt heavy, the air trembling quietly with his unstable breakthrough.

  Aashi held his hand firmly, grounding him with her warmth. Anshvi held the other, her thumb gently brushing over his knuckles, her expression a mixture of fear, helplessness, and unwavering concern. They watched him in silence, praying for him to wake.

  The atmosphere shifted suddenly, a subtle tremor running across the room as if the air itself reacted to the surging ki. Thunder rumbled faintly outside, despite the clear sky moments earlier. The golden markings of his ancient incantation flickered again beneath his skin, casting faint light across the room before disappearing as quickly as they came. His body trembled, caught between breakthrough and collapse, life and destruction.