Alya clung to Armaan's elbow, her breath shallow, her heart pounding like drums in a war march. The blood-red eyes in the darkness stared unblinking. Their glow alone seemed to suck the warmth from the air. A foul stench followed—the smell of blood, rot, and something otherworldly.
And then—
It stepped forward.
A thick, gnarled foot, more beast than man, pressed against the tiled floor with a wet, thudding sound. Out of the darkness emerged a monstrous form—a Danawa.
Its body was covered in ashen-grey skin, pulsating with veins of red light like lava flowing beneath the surface. Its limbs were long and twisted, ending in claws sharp enough to tear steel. Black, greasy hair hung in ropes from its elongated skull, and its jaw jutted forward, revealing a mouth of uneven, jagged teeth, all dripping with thick, greenish saliva. Its back arched unnaturally as it stepped closer.
The Danawa's eyes narrowed, its focus now clearly set on one thing—Alya.
"Tch... this one smells divine," it hissed, tongue flicking out like a serpent's, licking its lips. It lunged forward with terrifying speed, its mouth wide open, ready to tear her apart.
"Alya, get down!" Armaan shouted.
Time seemed to freeze for a heartbeat.
CLANG!
A burst of silver light exploded between Alya and the Danawa.
Armaan's Aether blade had intercepted the beast mid-lunge, pressing against its rancid teeth, stopping it inches from Alya's horrified face. Sparks flew as fang met metal, lighting up the tunnel in a brief, blinding flash.
Then, with a sharp twist, Armaan drove his boot into the creature's gut.
The Danawa flew backward, crashing into the station wall with a thunderous crack, the tiles around it shattering like glass. Dust and fragments fell in a slow, lazy cloud.
Alya looked up, eyes wide—but the Armaan standing in front of her was someone else entirely.
He was transformed.
His casual school uniform was gone. In its place, he wore a V-collared white shirt beneath a black jacket that reached down to his ankles. The fabric fluttered slightly with the wind from the tunnels. The left chest of the jacket bore a silver insignia—a stylized flame encased in a shield, glowing faintly under the station lights. On his back, written in bold Devanagari script, the word "रक्षक" —Rakshak—stretched across, half-covered by the black hood that now hung behind him.
His eyes—normally calm and kind—now shimmered with a silver essence, glowing faintly like moonlight on water.
"…Armaan?" Alya whispered, stunned.
But he didn't respond immediately. His gaze was locked on the rising Danawa, now snarling with hatred, its saliva steaming on the floor.
"Stay behind me," Armaan said firmly, his voice deeper, steadier, carrying a quiet authority Alya had never heard before.
The Danawa roared, standing upright again, chest heaving. Its left arm had bent awkwardly from the impact but was already snapping back into place.
"You... brat... you dare protect prey from me?!"
Armaan raised his blade slightly, his jacket shifting with his stance. "You think you're hunting," he said calmly, "but you just walked into a trap."
The Danawa shrieked, charging again—this time faster, angrier.
And Armaan stepped forward to meet it.
The Danawa's chest still heaved from the impact, but its wicked grin remained intact. Its long tongue flicked over its fangs, savoring the scent of fear—and blood.
Armaan gritted his teeth, his breath steadying. His silver-lit eyes narrowed, analyzing the creature's stance, its precision, its unnatural speed.
"It went for Alya… not me," he realized.
The Danawa hadn't just lunged randomly. It calculated its target—the weaker one, the vulnerable.
"This one… it's not an ordinary Danawa."
"You bastard," Armaan growled aloud, his voice laced with fury. "Going for the weak one… come for me! I'm strong!"
In a single fluid motion, he raised his Aether blade high, focusing his prana into it. Shadows crawled up its length like smoke being pulled into steel.
The blade shimmered dark—a deep, shadow-black edge—surging with restrained energy.
Alya, who had been frozen in place, finally found her voice.
"What… What is going on, Falak? And w-what is that thing?" Her words trembled, barely escaping her lips.
Armaan didn't take his eyes off the Danawa. The grip on his blade tightened.
"Don't worry," he said, voice still calm but full of quiet strength. "I'll explain everything… after I finish this off."
Before she could react—
The Danawa vanished.
"—!!"
Alya blinked.
Then screamed.
A gust of wind passed her cheek—and blood splattered onto the floor.
She found herself held tightly in Armaan's arms, pressed against his chest, shielded.
A line of blood dripped down Armaan's cheek, from a fresh slash on his face.
He hadn't seen it.
He hadn't even sensed it.
The Danawa had appeared right beside Alya, jaws wide open—ready to end her in one bite. But in the span of a heartbeat, Armaan had moved.
Fast enough to protect her—but not fast enough to escape the strike.
Alya's eyes widened. "F-Falak… are you okay?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
But Armaan didn't respond.
He was no longer present in their conversation.
He was in battle mode.
His mind flashed to Farmaan's teachings. The one that had saved him many times.
"Focus on the wound. Send your prana to the bleeding point. Stop the bleeding. Then repair it slowly."
He closed his eyes, exhaled deeply—
—And snapped them open in the next second, eyes burning with silver fire.
Nothing.
The wound wasn't healing.
"Tch…" he hissed. "It got me… What the hell? Focus. Focus—"
The Danawa's guttural chuckle echoed through the empty metro station.
"What's wrong, brat?" it mocked, licking its claws. "Can't heal that little scratch?"
It stepped forward, its eyes gleaming with cruel delight.
"My claws... my saliva… they're coated with poison. Specially brewed. I've killed many who wore that fancy jacket of yours." It grinned. "Rakshaks, you call yourselves, right? Protectors? You're just meat with fancy toys."
Armaan's jaw clenched.
His blade lowered slightly.
The burning on his cheek intensified, and the poison was already seeping deeper.
Alya, still in his arms, trembled.
Armaan slowly let her down, gently moving her behind him.
And then, he stood tall again.
Even with poison in his blood—he would fight.
Armaan stood firm, jaw clenched and body still reeling from the poison eating through his face. The Danawa's mocking laughter echoed again, bouncing off the cold concrete of the deserted metro station.
"Whattt?! Poison? And killed my comrades?" Armaan's voice shook with rage. "You're going to regret telling me that, you monster."
His aura crackled.
He charged.
With a primal yell, Armaan surged forward like a bullet of white and shadow, his Aether blade raised for a diagonal slash across the Danawa's torso. His blade connected—
—but nothing happened.
No wound. No blood. Not even a scratch.
"What the..." Armaan gasped as he skidded back, his boots screeching against the floor. His eyes widened in disbelief.
The Danawa grinned wickedly. "Is that all you've got, brat?" it taunted.
In the next moment—
Thwack!
A powerful kick landed square on Armaan's chest, launching him backward like a ragdoll. He smashed into the station wall, concrete cracking behind him as blood burst from his lips.
Alya cried out. "Armaan!"
Before he could fully recover, the Danawa lunged in for the kill.
Armaan barely rolled to the side, evading death by inches. Claws shredded the concrete where his chest had just been.
He panted.
He burned.
He seethed.
His aura began to change—
A shadow-black energy bled from his body like a miasma, surrounding him, intensifying.
He said nothing.
He looked down, letting the hatred, the fury, the pain boil over.
His Aether blade surged to life, its shadowy edge now erupting with black flames, licking the air like a demon's tongue.
He raised his head. The silver in his eyes gleamed through the veil of darkness.
Then he moved.
Faster than lightning. Faster than anything he'd ever done before.
Alya's eyes couldn't track him.
The Danawa's didn't either.
Before the monster could react—Armaan slashed.
A horizontal arc.
Then a second. Then a third.
Both of the Danawa's arms flew into the air, landing several feet away.
The creature howled. Its severed limbs dissolved—only to regenerate instantly.
Armaan fell to one knee, chest heaving.
That move had taken everything.
"Armaan! Your back—!" Alya screamed.
Too late.
The Danawa reappeared behind Armaan in the blink of an eye.
Armaan twisted and swung his blade—
But the creature vanished again.
Then—
A deep scratch tore through Armaan's chest.
Followed by a brutal kick.
He was launched straight onto the metro rail tracks, his body slamming into the metal with a sickening thud.
Alya's scream filled the darkness.
A deafening silence fell for a heartbeat as the Danawa slowly turned its monstrous face toward Alya, a wicked grin spreading across its blood-slick jaws. Its glowing red eyes locked onto her trembling form—helpless, shocked, unable to scream. It lunged toward her in a single, fluid dash of terror.
CRACK!!
The monster was blasted sideways through a thick concrete wall, dust and shards flying everywhere.
Alya's widened eyes shifted from the crumbled wall back to where Armaan had been lying moments ago—now standing there, wobbling slightly, his entire body drenched in blood. Gashes ran from his forehead, across his jaw, down his chest, soaking through the white of his shirt and the inner lining of his jacket. His legs shook. His breath came out in ragged, labored pants. But his grip on his Aether blade was firm. His resolve even firmer.
"Armaan…" Alya whispered, both stunned and terrified, her voice barely audible.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance back at her. "Stay behind me, Alya," he said hoarsely. "I won't let it touch you."
The Danawa roared from within the wall, pushing aside the debris and charging again. It raised both of its clawed arms and swung downward, seeking to crush him.
Armaan's blade fell from his grip—intentionally.
He caught the Danawa's claws with both hands, blood now pouring freely from his reopened wounds. A guttural scream burst from his lips as he summoned every ounce of strength left in him. Muscles tore. Bones strained. But he held it.
And then—he roared, twisting and slamming the beast into the concrete floor with a mighty boom, cracking it deeply.
"You still think you can protect her in that state? Why can't you understand, kid? You are weak. You can't win from me. You'll die like the others." The Danawa snarled, climbing to its feet, its face now twisted into an expression of irritated disbelief.
Armaan stumbled back a few steps, dragging his blade back into his hand. The silver logo on his jacket—flame and shield—was now blotched with crimson.
He pointed his trembling blade toward the beast and shouted back with everything he had left:
"Shut UP!! I don't care if I die… I'm a Rakshak! It's my duty to protect people. And I'll protect her…"
His blade trembled as he forced himself upright again.
"…until my last breath comes out… no matter how much I'm injured!"
The weight of his words echoed through the hollow metro station. His declaration wasn't just for the Danawa. It was a vow—to himself, to his comrades, to Farmaan… and to Alya.
The Danawa's red eyes narrowed. "Then die with your pride, brat."
It took a step forward—only one. Because in that moment, something had changed.
The black aura around Armaan surged again.
The underground platform stood in chilling silence, flickering lights casting pale shadows along the concrete walls. In the far corner, Alya had collapsed on her knees, her face drenched in tears, eyes wide in horror.
"Armaan..." she whispered, barely able to speak through the tremble in her voice.
She watched the battle unfold helplessly, her heart thundering in her chest, aching with a fear she had never known.
The Danawa let out a snarling hiss and charged again.
Clang!
The sound of claws against metal echoed like thunder.
Armaan met the beast head-on. His blade moved like lightning, his arms a blur as he struggled to match the speed and viciousness of the Danawa's onslaught. Its claws slashed from all directions—left, right, upward, downward—and Armaan's Aether blade responded each time with a streaking arc of shadow-black light.
Every time steel met claw, sparks scattered. The aura of his blade streamed behind each movement like black fire, licking the air. His jacket flared with each twist and spin, bearing proudly the word रक्षक—Rakshak.
They clashed in the center of the platform. The beast snarled. Armaan roared.
And then—a flash.
A perfect opening.
Armaan ducked low and slashed clean across the Danawa's right forearm.
SLASH!
The arm fell limp and useless, and with a quick pivot, Armaan spun on his heel and delivered a brutal kick to its chest, sending the monster flying all the way to the end of the metro platform, crashing against the metal barriers with a loud BOOM.
Breathing heavily, Armaan clenched his blade tighter.
The Danawa growled, its body twitching as it began to rise again.
That's when his voice rang out, powerful and commanding:
"Ryú no Keisho… SOULFIRE ERUPTION!!"
And he dashed forward with blazing speed, a battle cry ripping from his lungs—
"VELSHHHH DRAGONNNNNNN!!!!"
FLASHBACK – 1 month ago
In the dark woods of Rakshak's training grounds, young Armaan stood shirtless before a thick, ancient tree. His arms were scraped. His breathing heavy. The moon glinted off the silver Essence in his eyes as he stood in a deep stance.
He whispered to himself:
"If I can't protect with my strength... I'll burn through with my soul."
Focusing deep within, he channeled every drop of prana, every flicker of determination, into his blade. It began to glow red, trembling with pure fury.
"Ryú no Keisho… Soulfire…"
His grip tightened. The tip of his blade pointed toward the bark.
"…eruption…"
He slashed downward with a scream—and the red flames ignited, shaped like a great dragon. The tree didn't just burn.
It melted.
BACK TO PRESENT
A fiery red dragon burst from Armaan's blade, every part of it engulfed in soulfire, its green eyes glowing with intensity. It followed the arc of his sword as he closed the distance between him and the Danawa.
The Danawa, sensing danger, screeched and dashed forward to meet him head-on.
The two collided mid-platform—dragon's flame and monster's fury.
Silence.
The moment hung frozen in time.
Alya's breath caught in her throat.
Then… Thump.
The Danawa's right arm hit the floor, severed cleanly from the shoulder.
Armaan stood several steps away, his blade now lowered. But a deep red patch grew rapidly across his side—his abdomen had been slashed in the clash.
His knees gave out. His sword fell. He collapsed.
"ARMAAN!!" Alya cried out, her scream echoing painfully through the empty station.
She rushed forward but her legs buckled halfway. She fell again, hands over her mouth, tears pouring down her cheeks and dropping onto her skirt. She could barely breathe. Her mind swam with fear and disbelief.
The Danawa stood still for a moment, smirking.
Then, it regenerated its missing arm in a flash of grotesque energy.
Armaan didn't move. His eyes fluttered.
The Danawa licked its teeth, stepped forward, and prepared for the final blow.
It lunged.
Its claws glinted in the flickering light, drawn back.
Inches.
Claws were now inches away from Armaan's throat—
—and then—