The sun had long vanished behind ashen clouds when Parashu and Master Vishma returned. Their war-torn village lay still beneath a blood-orange sky. Cracked stones, broken walls, and the scent of burnt wood greeted them like ghosts.
Waiting at the entrance was the girl who had once carried the battle letter. Her face—tired, angry, but concerned—spoke more than her words.
"You were told to stay home," she said sharply, stepping forward. "Didn't the village leader say that?"
Parashu said nothing at first. His eyes drifted to the torn flags swaying from half-burnt towers. The air reeked of soot and iron.
"Every member of your clan is gone," she continued, voice trembling. "You're the last Vetala. One reckless move… and your bloodline ends."
Parashu exhaled a faint breath and smiled—thin and sad.
"I know," he said. "I just... I had to fight."
"Fight all you want," she snapped, "when there's something left to protect."
Parashu's eyes flicked toward Master Vishma. "But first… you said you had something for me."
The old master's voice was steady. "First, rest. Your body has changed. You need time to understand what's now inside you. You'll need clarity."
Parashu, ever stubborn, stepped closer. "I'll rest. Just—tell me what it is."
Vishma's lips curled into a small smile. "After your nap. Then, speak to the village leader. He'll explain."
"Alright," Parashu muttered, nodding once. "But don't forget—you promised."
"I never do," Vishma said as he and the girl turned to leave. "Don't forget to rest."
But the moment they vanished down the path, Parashu was already running.
---
Village Streets — Moments Later
The village was quieter than he remembered. No chants. No clangs of metal. Only the sound of his own footsteps slapping against rain-slick stone as he pushed forward, ignoring the aches in his legs.
---
Village Leader's Grounds — Night
Two guards at the entrance stepped forward as Parashu approached.
"We told you to stay away," one of them growled.
"You shouldn't be here," the other said, raising his weapon.
Before Parashu could speak, both lunged. His hand shot to his axe—reflex, not thought.
And then—
Flash.
They were gone. Like smoke. Dissolved into the air.
Parashu staggered back.
"What the hell was that?"
A nearby sentry approached calmly. "Parashu... are you alright?"
He caught his breath. "Yeah. Just tired."
The sentry eyed him carefully. "Be careful next time. You here to meet him?"
Parashu's brow creased. "Who?"
The man only smiled. "You'll like him."
---
Village Leader's Chamber
The room was lit by amber lanterns, their glow flickering against the cracked stone walls. The village leader stood tall, hands behind his back. Beside him stood a man Parashu didn't recognize—a tall, silver-haired figure, wrapped in a cloak of deep gray, with eyes that seemed carved from stormlight.
The leader gestured. "Parashu. You're just in time. He's been asking for you."
The stranger's gaze locked with Parashu's. And something inside the young warrior stirred—not his own instinct, but something older. Ancient.
"So," the stranger said, voice calm yet commanding, "you're the last Vetala."
Parashu straightened. "Who are you?"
The man turned without another word and walked into the shadows.
"Hey—wait!" Parashu called. "If you came here for me, why are you walking away?"
No answer. Just silence. Then—
"Who was that?" he asked, looking to the village leader.
The old man sighed. "I thought Vishma already told you..."
---
Flashback — A Legacy Reborn
> His name was Gharvek.
A warrior whose name once shook empires.
Wielder of Soulcleaver—the blade that felled beasts and gods.
Feared by armies. Revered by sages.
But more than strength, he had discipline. A mind sharper than steel.
One day, he saw two warriors on a dying road—defying death itself.
---
Abandoned Village Road
Wind swept the dust across shattered homes. Amid the ruins, two figures stood firm.
Daksha—half-broken, his right arm gone, one leg twisted, leaning on a broken spear.
Asura—tall and still, axe in hand, chipped but solid. Eyes focused. Breath calm.
From the darkness emerged a masked robber, wiry and covered in blood. Blades lined his chest like teeth.
He circled them. "You look like broken dogs. One can't swing. The other can't stand. Give up your pride… and die."
Daksha spat blood. "You talk like you've fought gods."
"I've killed better men."
Asura's voice was quiet. "Then their ghosts are laughing."
The robber attacked. Fast. Wild.
CLANG!
Asura blocked. Sparks flew.
Daksha lunged—missed. The robber kicked him down. Daksha stumbled, but didn't fall.
"Still standing?" the robber mocked.
"Not pride," Daksha growled. "Just stubbornness."
They moved in unison.
Asura struck low.
The robber leapt.
Right into Daksha's spear.
STAB!
Blood flew.
Asura followed—his axe splitting the man's chest.
Silence.
Breathing hard, they stood over the corpse.
"That was messy," Daksha panted.
"He underestimated us," Asura replied.
"They always do."
And then:
> Gharvek stepped from the shadows.
He had seen enough.
He trained them.
But before the war—he vanished.
Because the Kara Army wasn't hunting him to kill.
> They wanted to consume him.
Turn his soul into a weapon.
If they ever found him—they could twist his strength into something monstrous.
Before he left, Gharvek made a promise.
GHARVEK (V.O.)
"If Asura and Daksha ever call me together—I will return.
No sooner. No later."
But guilt kept Daksha silent.
The call never came.
Until now.
> Thanks to Master Vishma—Gharvek has returned.
---
Present
Parashu stood frozen, his heart pounding. Gharvek. The name echoed in his mind like a warning.
"Gharvek..." he whispered.
---
Outside — Village Grounds
The girl found him again. Gharvek stood alone, bathed in moonlight.
"You wanted to meet him," she said, her voice sharp. "Then why'd you leave?"
He didn't turn. "Because the Parashu I heard about... and the one I just met—aren't the same."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"There's something... not entirely human about him." His voice was quiet now. "Something untamed. When I looked into his eyes, I didn't just see a warrior. I saw... a younger version of myself."
She blinked. "You think he's dangerous?"
"I don't know," Gharvek said. "But Vishma might."
He stepped into the shadows, disappearing again.
---
Dream — Gharvek's Childhood
A burning village. Screams. Arrows.
Young Gharvek—barely eight—crouched on a collapsing rooftop. Blood on his hands. A battered crossbow beside him.
Two attackers spotted him.
"There's a rat up there," one of them sneered.
The other raised his rifle. "We wiped out the whole place. Let's finish it."
Gharvek breathed hard. Fired.
One down. The other cursed.
"You're alone, kid. There were fifty of us."
Gharvek rose, eyes burning.
"I don't care if there were a hundred," he said coldly. "None of you are leaving."
He jumped.
---
Gharvek's Chamber — Night
He awoke screaming. Sweat drenched the sheets.
"No!"
Panting. Trembling. His hands clenched the bedframe.
"Just a dream…" he whispered.
But his eyes—wide, haunted—refused to close.
---