Arav’s days were filled with grueling training, each moment pushing him to the edge of his endurance. Naresh watched him carefully, sensing the immense potential—and danger—his student carried. But as the training deepened, it became clear that Arav’s connection to Tamasa wasn’t just strong. It was unprecedented.

One evening, after an intense session, Naresh stood before Arav with a rare seriousness in his eyes. “Arav,” he began, “there’s something we need to test."

Arav wiped the sweat from his brow. “Test what?”

“Your Tamasa form. Every cultivator channels Tamasa differently, and each form reflects their soul and destiny. I have a suspicion about yours, but I need to confirm it.”

Arav frowned. “And if you’re right?”

Naresh’s lips tightened. “Then you’ll understand why this training is so crucial—and why the path you’re on is more dangerous than you realize.”

The next day, Naresh led Arav deep into the sect’s grounds, where ancient ruins lay hidden beneath the dense forest canopy. They stopped before a stone pedestal adorned with intricate carvings of Shiva’s Tandava dance. At top of the pedestal rested a dark, obsidian orb pulsating faintly with an eerie light.

“This is the Chayaa Astra,” Naresh explained. “It’s an artifact that reveals the true nature of your Tamasa form. Place your hand on it, and it will show you what lies within.”

Arav hesitated, staring at the orb. “And if I don’t like what I see?”

“Then you’ll have a choice to make,” Naresh replied. “But hiding from the truth won’t change it. Face it, Arav. That’s the only way forward.”

Taking a deep breath, Arav stepped forward and placed his hand on the orb. Instantly, the world around him seemed to fade. Shadows erupted from the Astra, swirling like a storm, and a vision overtook his mind.

He was back in his village, facing the Ashura. The same overwhelming rage, the same destructive force coursed through him, turning him into a weapon of annihilation. The memory shifted to his fight with Kimi—her strength, his broken body, and the terrifying moment when a dark power had surged within him, making even Kimi hesitate.

When the vision ended, Arav found himself on his knees, panting. The orb’s glow had faded, but its message was clear.

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Naresh’s voice broke the silence. “It’s as I feared. Your form of Tamasa… is Mrityu-Tamasa.”

Arav looked up, confusion and dread on his face. “Mrityu-Tamasa? What does that even mean?”

Naresh knelt beside him, his tone grave. “It’s the rarest and most dangerous form of Tamasa. The energy of death itself. Unlike other forms, which destroy to create space for rebirth, Mrityu-Tamasa is pure finality. It doesn’t just end life—it ends everything. No second chances. No renewal.”

Arav’s hands trembled. “So… what does that make me?”

“It makes you a weapon,” Naresh said softly. “One that could destroy this world—or save it. But only if you learn to control it.”

As they walked back to the training grounds, Arav couldn’t shake the memories the Astra had unearthed. “It felt the same,” he muttered.

Naresh glanced at him. “What did?”

“The power,” Arav said, his voice tight. “When I fought the Ashura. When I fought Kimi. It was the same. This… this Mrityu-Tamasa. It’s like it’s always been there, waiting for me to lose control.”

Naresh nodded. “That’s the nature of Tamasa. It’s primal, chaotic, and relentless. But Mrityu-Tamasa is different. It doesn’t wait—it consumes. That’s why your training is so critical, Arav. If you don’t master it, it will master you. And once that happens…”

“I become a Rakshasa,” Arav finished, his voice low.

Naresh didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes.

Over the following days, the training intensified. Naresh pushed Arav to the brink, forcing him to confront the chaos within. One evening, after a particularly brutal session, Arav collapsed onto the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion.

“I don’t get it,” he said, staring up at the sky. “Why is this so much harder than Prana? I’m good at Prana. I’m supposed to be good at this too.”

Naresh sat beside him, his expression unusually kind. “You are good at this, Arav. Better than anyone I’ve ever seen. But Tamasa isn’t like Prana. It doesn’t flow naturally. It fights you every step of the way. And Mrityu-Tamasa? That’s a whole other level. You’re trying to control the uncontrollable. It’s not about talent—it’s about resilience.”

Arav sighed, closing his eyes. “Feels like it’s trying to break me.”

“It is,” Naresh said simply. “But breaking isn’t the end. Sometimes, it’s the beginning of something stronger. The question is—are you willing to break?”

Arav opened his eyes, his gaze steady. “If it means controlling this… then yes.”

During one particularly intense session, Naresh handed Arav the Chhaya Astra again. “Channel Mrityu-Tamasa into this,” he instructed. “Let’s see how far you’ve come.”

Arav hesitated but nodded, gripping the dagger tightly. As he focused, the shadows around him thickened, the air growing heavy with tension. The same voices from before whispered in his mind, urging him to let go, to destroy.

But this time, he didn’t falter.

When the energy surged, he directed it into the Chhaya Astra, the blade glowing with an ominous black light. The ground beneath him cracked, and the air rippled with power.

Naresh stepped back, his eyes wide. “Incredible,” he murmured. “You’re actually controlling it.”

Arav smirked, his breathing heavy. “Told you I could handle it.”

Naresh’s expression darkened. “Don’t get cocky, Arav. This is just the beginning. The real challenge is yet to come.”

Arav nodded, his resolve stronger than ever. “Bring it on.”

Naresh smiled faintly. “That’s the spirit. But don’t forget—Tamasa doesn’t forgive mistakes. And neither will I.”