When Purushottampuri was attacked by the Beasts, the streets, once vibrant and bustling, had descended into chaos. Cries of panic echoed through stone alleyways; the air thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning thatch.
The local guards, skilled hunters, and magic users fought with unwavering resolve. Blades clashed against monstrous claws, bolts of searing light arced across the sky, and protective wards shimmered briefly before succumbing to relentless strikes.
Yet, the onslaught was too great.
The tide of Beasts seemed endless. For every creature felled, two more seemed to take its place. The defenders, weary and bloodied, began to falter.
In the central command post, the head of Purushottampuri's security team gripped a trembling communicator. "We need backup. Immediately. I repeat—Purushottampuri is under siege!"
The capital's response was swift.
"Understood. Reinforcements are mobilizing. Estimated arrival in 90 minutes. Hold your ground until then."
The message offered a fragile hope. But for the next hour and a half, the people of Purushottampuri were alone in their fight for survival.
All across the city, families huddled in basements, while shopkeepers bolted their doors. The distant roars of the Beasts grew louder with each passing minute.
Even the sky seemed to darken, as if the land itself feared what was coming.
In one crumbling neighborhood, a lone guard shouted orders, voice hoarse:
"Hold the line! Protect the civilians at all costs!"
But his hands trembled on his sword hilt. Courage was no match for the sheer terror pressing in from all sides.
Far from the city, in the polished wood and stone interior of an exclusive tavern within the capital, Navin sat alone. A nearly full glass of amber liquid rested before him, untouched. His sharp gaze remained distant, lost in the depths of memory.
Navin was not a man who easily yielded to emotion. Known throughout the realm as one of the most formidable swordsmen alive, his stoic nature masked an unspoken grief.
He remembered clearly the mission that had claimed Karn's life—his closest comrade, the man whose unwavering spirit had once inspired an entire generation of Hunters.
That night, as Karn had lain dying amidst the blood and ruin of the Vedika jungles, he had grasped Navin's arm with iron determination.
"As long as my son is not strong enough to protect himself and his family, I leave that responsibility to you."
Navin had sworn upon his blade to honor that promise. No rank or distance would ever change that.
Navin's mind flashed to a younger Karn — standing tall with Aamir perched on his shoulders, laughing under the sun.
"He wanted to give you a better world, boy," Navin thought grimly. "And I will make sure that chance isn't stolen."
Now, as the urgent alert flashed on his communicator, Navin's hand closed around his glass, steady despite the weight of memory.
"They will not fall. Not today."
Rising in one fluid motion, his long black cloak whispered against the floor as he strode from the tavern. Passersby barely had time to react to the blur that swept past them. In moments, he was gone—little more than a shadow in the wind.
At the Hunter's Guild, the great hall was alive with tense energy. Runes pulsed along ancient walls as mages prepared the great portal. Within its shimmering frame, the image of Purushottampuri flickered faintly.
Navin arrived in a flash, eyes sharp, steps purposeful.
Six figures awaited him.
Two women stood apart from the others. One, her long snow-white hair cascading down her back, exuded an icy presence. Her eyes gleamed with cold intellect—this was Professor Afreen, famed sword instructor of Nalanda University.
Beside her stood Sumona, a powerful mage whose calm aura belied her deadly skill.
Among the men was Dhari, a master of hand-to-hand combat whose controlled breath and steely gaze spoke of years spent honing his body to a living weapon. Beside him stood Kundan, a battle-mage known for devastating, unpredictable spells. The last two, Rudrak and Ishaan, were veteran swordsmen whose fluid movements and worn hilts spoke volumes of the battles they had survived.
"Ah, Navin, good to see you've arrived," came the voice of the Guild Master—a frail-looking elder whose gaze could freeze lesser warriors in place.
Navin wasted no time. "Has the portal been prepared?"
Afreen's cold voice answered. "The situation is worse than we thought. The Beasts are attacking with unprecedented ferocity."
Navin nodded grimly. "Then we move swiftly. Every second counts."
The Guild Master gestured to the glowing portal. "Coordinates are set. Final sequence in progress. You will arrive in the city's heart."
As the last incantations were cast, Navin's gaze flickered to the swirling energy. "Karn... your son is there. I will not fail him."
Meanwhile, in the burning heart of Purushottampuri, the scene was dire.
Amidst rubble and smoldering wreckage, Aamir lay unconscious, his young form battered and pale. Riya, bruised and barely standing, had drawn a ring of fire around them. The last vestiges of her mana flickered weakly at the edges of the protective flames.
Around them, guards held tense positions. Some aided the wounded, others kept wary eyes fixed on the unconscious boy.
"Why aren't you helping the injured instead of standing here, guarding these children?" Riya's voice trembled, her eyes blazing with defiance despite the pain.
A guard spoke hesitantly. "Other teams are aiding the wounded. But... this boy... his aura is... unnatural. Terrifying."
Before another word could be said, a blast of wind swept through the square.
Navin arrived—a living shadow with eyes like tempered steel. His black cloak billowed as he surveyed the scene.
"Wasn't this place under attack by the Beasts?" His voice cut through the chaos, calm yet commanding. "Then why are you standing here instead of fighting them?"
One guard gasped, recognizing him. "Commander Navin!" He saluted instinctively.
At Navin's name, all the guards snapped to attention.
"Report."
The senior guard swallowed. "Sir, the Beasts... they retreated. Even the Specter-class fled. We believe... this boy had something to do with it."
Navin's gaze shifted to Aamir and Riya. His sharp eyes narrowed.
"And these two?"
_"The boy defeated a Specter-class Beast... alone. But his aura—" The guard faltered. "It's unnatural. We feared to approach."
Navin's face darkened. "Fools." His voice resonated like a blade drawn in judgment. "Instead of tending their wounds, you cower? Do you not grasp what this boy has done? He collapsed because he exceeded his limits. And you hesitate here like frightened children."
The guards shifted uneasily, chastised but silent.
"I will take responsibility for them." Navin's words were absolute. "Now go. Help the others who still breathe."
Reluctantly, the guards dispersed.
As they did, Riya's strength finally gave out. Her knees buckled.
Before her body hit the ground, Navin caught her effortlessly, cradling her as though she weighed nothing.
"You did well, little one," he whispered. "You've shown remarkable courage."
His gaze returned to Aamir.
"There is something in you, boy—something vast and dangerous. If you learn to master it... you may surpass us all."
Yet beneath the commander's stern exterior, an unspoken promise echoed.
"I will protect you, kid," he murmured softly. "No matter what comes."
Chapter End.