The moment Aaryan stepped away from the Resource Hall, the weight of his injuries slammed into him.

He had been running on sheer willpower—fueled by adrenaline, battle, and sheer stubborn defiance. But now? Now, exhaustion clawed at him, sinking deep into his bones.

His legs felt heavier with every step, each movement sending a dull, pulsing ache through his muscles. His ribs throbbed—not just bruised, but possibly cracked. A sharp, biting pain flared in his right shoulder, radiating down his arm like smoldering embers. The gash on his forearm burned raw, as if reminding him that dominance in battle had come at a price.

The murmurs of the crowd faded behind him, but he barely registered them. Whether they whispered in fear or awe, it didn’t matter. Right now, his only goal was reaching his cave without collapsing along the way.

The stone path stretched ahead, its once-familiar terrain now feeling unnervingly distant. His breath came in slow, measured inhales, each one laced with the sharp sting of pain. The further he walked, the more the world seemed to narrow. The shifting silhouettes of trees blurred at the edges of his vision, his steps growing sluggish, his surroundings dulling into the background.

Reckless.

The thought crept into his mind, unwelcome but undeniable. He had pushed himself too far.

He clenched his jaw. Had he truly been in control… or just lucky? Would his strength always be enough? Or had today been a warning?

Yes, he had won. Yes, he had fought smarter than the others. But what if there had been one more opponent? What if someone stronger had stepped in at the last moment?

Would he have been able to walk away then?

Or would he be sprawled on that bloodstained terrace, another nameless fool who reached too high and fell too hard?

His pride told him he had played it well, but his body—aching, battered, near its breaking point—reminded him otherwise.

By the time he reached his cave, the cool air inside felt like a distant comfort—one he could barely grasp.

His knees buckled slightly as he lowered himself onto the stone floor, his back pressing against the cave wall. The pain was no longer something he could ignore. His ribs screamed in protest, his limbs felt like dead weight. Even flexing his fingers took effort.

Aaryan let his head rest against the rough surface behind him. His breath came in shorter gasps. The world around him felt… distant. The cold cave wall at his back blurred into nothingness. His limbs no longer felt like they belonged to him—just a weight dragging him down, down—

And then, he fell—deeper than just unconsciousness.

Aaryan wasn’t sure where he was.

He stood—or maybe floated—on uneven ground, surrounded by scattered debris. The scent of blood and scorched earth clung to the air.

Before him, a man knelt on the ground.

His form was shrouded in shadow, his face obscured—Aaryan couldn’t see it. But everything else? The details were painfully clear.

His robes were torn, drenched in crimson, ripped apart in places where deep gashes ran across his body. His shoulders trembled, his breath came in ragged gasps, but he refused to fall.

Even as blood pooled beneath him.

Even as his own body betrayed him.

Because—

He was holding something.

A child.

________________________________________

Aaryan Sees the Child & the Man’s Expression

The man’s arms cradled the boy carefully, as though even the slightest shift would shatter him. Protective. Desperate. His grip was firm yet gentle, the way one would hold something they refused to let go of, no matter what.

Aaryan’s gaze shifted.

The child—so small, fragile—was barely visible in his embrace. Blood—his blood—stained the boy’s cloth wrappings, but the child himself was unharmed. He breathed softly, unaware of the war around him.

Then—Aaryan looked at the man’s face.

For a moment, his heart lurched.

Because beneath the exhaustion, beneath the blood and battle scars, there was something raw in his expression.

Pain.

Not the kind that came from wounds or exhaustion.

A deeper pain.

One that settled in the eyes.

A pain that didn’t scream, didn’t cry out.

But instead—just existed.

Carved into his very being.

Aaryan didn’t know why, but the sight of it made his chest feel unbearably tight.

Who was this man?

Why did it feel like he knew him?

Why… Why did this feel so familiar?

The answer hovered at the edge of his mind—so close he could almost grasp it. A name, a memory, a feeling—it was there.

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For a fleeting moment, it was his. And then—gone. Dissolving like mist, slipping between his fingers before he could hold on.

Like waking from a dream only to find the details dissolving, leaving behind nothing but a hollow, aching certainty—he had known.

Once.

The vision wavered.

The wind picked up, the storm’s roar returning.

And then—

Darkness.

Aaryan was falling.

The air was thick, suffocating, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn't shake off.

Then—thunder.

A blinding flash split the void apart, tearing across the sky. The storm raged, wild and relentless. The winds howled, lightning carved through the heavens, and amidst it all—a man ran.

His body was battered and bloodied, but he did not stop.

Aaryan tried to focus, but his perspective felt... wrong. He wasn’t standing. He wasn’t fighting. He was being carried.

A dull panic settled in his chest. His body wouldn’t move, wouldn’t react.

The man’s grip was firm yet desperate, as if he was holding onto something more precious than his own life. His breath was ragged, his voice barely audible above the storm.

"Even after all the sacrifices, it seems fate will not spare us."

Aaryan's vision flickered.

Something about those words tugged at him. They felt distant… but familiar.

“No matter how far we run, we can’t escape the consequences.”

The wind howled louder, as if trying to drown out the voice. The figures in the distance were drawing closer.

A sudden pulse of energy surged through the air. A dagger gleamed in the man’s bloodstained hand.

He raised it toward Aaryan.

Fear jolted through him. What was happening?! His mind screamed at him to move, to react, but his body wouldn’t listen.

The man’s voice was strained, filled with something that sounded almost like regret.

“I was meant to protect you…”

Aaryan’s heartbeat thundered.

“But the world has forced me to do this.”

The dagger descended.

And then—light.

The vision fractured.

The storm raged, but it felt further away now—like he was slipping out of its grasp.

Then—

A desperate, heart-wrenching cry tore through the chaos.

"Go!"

It wasn’t just a command. It was a final plea, raw and heavy with resignation.

The voice was filled with finality, as if the one who spoke had already accepted his fate.

The world blurred.

The storm collapsed inward.

And suddenly—

Pain.

Crushing, suffocating pain.

He wasn’t being carried anymore.

He was on the ground.

The storm had quieted, Instead, the scent of wet earth and pine filled the air. Leaves rustled in the distance, and the faint call of insects hummed through the silence.

But the air felt wrong.

Heavy.

Empty.

The warmth had been stolen from his body, as if something vital had been ripped away.

A low, endless hum filled the void. Not a sound, not a voice—just a deep, vibrating emptiness that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

It felt like loss.

Like something was missing.

Something important.

Aaryan's fingers twitched, reaching for something—but what?

What had he lost?

Aaryan's gaze wavered.

Where… was this?

He didn’t remember moving.

The shift was too sudden—one moment he was in the storm, the next he was here.

The trees stretched high, their towering forms swaying gently. The scent of damp earth filled his lungs, the whisper of rustling leaves pressing against his ears.

His chest tightened.

Something wasn’t right.

Then he saw it.

A small bundle lay nestled in the leaves. Wrapped in worn, faded cloth, barely shifting with the breeze.

Why did his chest feel so tight? Why did the sight of the bundle stir something deep in him—something just out of reach?

Aaryan's breath hitched.

His fingers curled slightly, but he didn’t know why. Something about this place… about that bundle… felt like an echo of something lost.

His hand lifted—hesitant. His fingers hovered over the worn cloth, close enough to touch, but something in him paused.

A strange sense of déjà vu gripped him, tightening around his chest like unseen hands. He had done this before.

Hadn’t he?

The thought barely had time to form before—

The world lurched.

Not a fall—but a pull.

A sensation like being yanked through water, like stepping off solid ground only to find nothing beneath him.

He didn’t fall.

He sank.

And suddenly—

He wasn’t looking at the bundle.

He was inside it.

The world was too big.

The sky, the trees, the leaves—they stretched endlessly above him, towering, shifting, moving in ways he couldn’t understand.

His body felt small. Weak.

He tried to move—nothing.

His limbs were too heavy, too clumsy. His fingers curled, but they barely responded.

A dull, aching hunger gnawed at him. A chill seeped through his skin, making him instinctively curl into himself.

Then—

A shadow passed over him.

A figure loomed.

His vision blurred, struggling to focus. He couldn’t see his face, couldn’t grasp who he was.

But he was there.

Something loomed over him—vast, unknowable. A presence. A whisper. A hand reaching—

Then—

A touch.

Barely there. Featherlight. A brush against his forehead—warm, fleeting, gone before he could register it.

His breath hitched.

A voice—too distant, too quiet to understand. But it was there.

Then—

Cold.

The warmth vanished. A hollow emptiness took its place.

And with it—Aaryan fell into the dark.

Aaryan stirred.

A faint awareness seeped into his body, dragging him out of the heavy, suffocating darkness.

A sharp, shallow breath. His lungs ached, as if they had forgotten how to draw air. His skin prickled with cold. Something felt… off. His fingers twitched against the stone floor, searching for warmth that wasn’t there.

A sudden shiver ran through him.

His thoughts were sluggish. Fogged.

Something had just happened—something important.

His eyelids fluttered open, but for a few moments, he just lay there, staring at the rough ceiling of his cave, his mind grasping at the remnants of a dream already slipping away.

What… had he seen?

His brows furrowed as he sifted through the fragments.

There had been—a storm. Yes. A storm, raging wild and untamed. Thunder, loud enough to shake the heavens.

And amidst it all… a man.

Aaryan inhaled sharply, his pulse kicking up. The image flickered—torn robes, a bloodstained grip, a figure kneeling on the ground, clutching something close.

A child.

His breath hitched. A strange pressure tightened in his chest.

The man had been holding the child, guarding him as if he were the only thing left in the world that mattered.

Aaryan squeezed his eyes shut, chasing the elusive details. The man’s face—he had tried to see it, hadn’t he? But it had been obscured, hidden just beyond his reach. Yet… something about him had felt—familiar.

A slow, uneasy chill crept down his spine.

Why?

His fingers curled into a loose fist, pressing against the stone floor. His mind stretched further, reaching—grasping—

The storm. The dagger. A voice, hoarse with exhaustion.

"Even after all the sacrifices, it seems fate will not spare us."

Aaryan’s breath shuddered as recognition stirred deep within him.

It wasn’t just a passing memory—it was something he should know. Something he had heard before.

His chest tightened. His body felt wound too tightly, coiled with something on the verge of breaking free.

And then—for just a moment—it was there.

The knowledge pressed against his mind, sharp and certain. A name, a face, a truth he shouldn’t have forgotten.

A flicker—

A glimmer of recognition—

A face—

His breath caught. He had seen this before. He was sure of it.

Then—

Gone.

Like shattered glass slipping through his fingers, the images unravelled, dissolving into nothing.

A sharp ache settled in his ribs, as though he had lost something—something that had belonged to him.

Aaryan sucked in a breath, his hands curling into the fabric of his clothes. The frustration burned beneath his skin, sharp and unrelenting.

What was that?

His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the gnawing unease beneath his skin.

Aaryan dragged a shaky hand down his face. His body still felt heavy, his mind slow, as if the dream had taken something from him—left him hollow.

He swallowed, sitting up slowly. His muscles ached, his ribs protested, but none of that mattered.

Not compared to the lingering sense of wrongness that clung to him.

The cave was still. Silent. Unchanged.

And yet… Aaryan wasn’t sure he was.

Because even now, as he stared at the empty space before him, it wasn’t the dream that unsettled him most—

It was the certainty that something had been taken.