Ashak the Hollow moved like a specter.

  He hovered just above the ground, his presence unraveling the fabric of reality around him. The trees withered as he passed. The sky above the battlefield dimmed, shadows coiling like serpents. His arrival turned the dawn into dusk.

  Arjun steadied his breath, tightening his grip on his sword. Around him, the battle between his companions and the Forgotten raged—an orchestra of screams, steel, and desperate will. But here, now, everything narrowed to one moment.

  A duel.

  Karma against the void.

  “Why do you fight, Arjun?” Ashak asked, voice distant as if echoing from a thousand graves. “To restore the throne? To prove your worth?”

  “I fight,” Arjun replied, stepping forward, “because I must.”

  He activated his Throne Mark.

  A radiant pulse of golden energy burst from his spine, forming a glowing wheel behind him—the Karmic Mandala. Symbols floated in its orbit: Duty, Honor, Flame, Devotion.

  Ashak sneered. “You cling to symbols like a child holding broken toys. You do not understand power.”

  He raised his hand.

  The wind died. A black sphere formed above his palm—dark matter that pulled light into itself. He hurled it.

  Arjun leapt aside. The sphere struck a boulder behind him, and the rock imploded, vanishing into nothingness.

  He couldn’t afford a single mistake.

  He whispered under his breath. “System, unlock combat protocol.”

  > [Karmic System Accessing Battle Focus Mode…]

  [New Combat Style Activated: Ashura Form – Dual Wield Karmic Manifestation]

  Two spectral blades appeared in his hands, each humming with white-hot karma. He darted forward, his feet barely touching the ground.

  Their blades met with a flash of black and gold.

  Clang!

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  Ashak moved with alien grace, his limbs distorting, extending unnaturally. Arjun’s karmic blades cut deep—but the Hollow didn’t bleed. Instead, the wounds hissed and closed with a whisper of forgotten names.

  Ashak whispered an incantation. Runes circled his arms. “You fight with righteousness. I fight with memory. Let me show you the weight of what came before.”

  The battlefield shifted.

  Suddenly, Arjun stood not on grass, but in a crumbling city of obsidian towers. The skies screamed overhead. Fires raged in the distance.

  “This,” Ashak said, appearing beside him, “was once a kingdom. The first to claim the Karmic Throne. I ruled it. I watched it fall.”

  Arjun blinked. The illusion was so real—the heat of fire, the screams of dying children, the desperation in the air.

  “This isn’t real,” he growled.

  “But the karma is,” Ashak said, eyes glowing. “Every throne leaves scars.”

  He lashed out.

  Arjun countered, their blades sparking. The dream battlefield crumbled, replaced again by the grove—though now it was scorched and broken.

  The duel pushed past the edges of mortal endurance.

  Arjun’s breaths came ragged. His arms trembled from the sheer force of Ashak’s attacks. Each block sent shockwaves through his bones. Each parry burned through his stamina.

  Still, he endured.

  Because he had to.

  Because his people were watching.

  And because deep within him, something stirred.

  A voice.

  Not the system.

  Not a memory.

  But his own voice, older, deeper, eternal.

  > “You are not a pawn, Arjun. You are the throne.”

  The Mandala behind him flared again.

  A new symbol formed: Sacrifice.

  > [Karmic Revelation Unlocked: Avatar of the First Flame]

  Golden fire exploded from his body.

  Ashak staggered for the first time.

  Arjun’s form shifted—his hair turning silver, eyes glowing white, flames dancing across his arms like armor.

  He advanced.

  This time, his strikes carved through Ashak’s defenses. Each slash didn’t just cut—it judged. Ashak screamed as his void essence peeled away.

  “You… are not… supposed… to be this strong,” the Hollow gasped.

  Arjun’s blade ignited fully.

  “No,” he said. “I was meant to be forgotten. But I chose to rise.”

  He leapt, slamming both blades into Ashak’s chest.

  The Hollow erupted in black fire, his scream echoing through the valley.

  And then—

  Silence.

  Ashak’s body crumbled into ash, his cloak fluttering down like a torn flag.

  The battle was over.

  For now.

  ---

  The others regrouped around Arjun, breathing hard and bloodied. Ayra clutched her side, but still smiled.

  “You killed him,” she said. “A Forgotten.”

  Elaran touched the ash where Ashak once stood. “This is a sign. A karmic pivot. We’re not just part of fate now… we’re reshaping it.”

  Raaka cleaned his axe, scowling. “If that was just one of them… what else is coming?”

  Arjun didn’t answer.

  Because the obsidian shard in his pocket had not stopped burning.

  Instead, a new rune had appeared on its surface—one of nine. A single black dot had been joined by another.

  Only seven remained.

  “Seven more Forgotten,” he said quietly.

  Ayra looked at him. “Will we survive that long?”

  “I don’t know,” Arjun admitted. “But we’ll keep walking the path. Because if we don’t, who will?”

  He looked toward the horizon.

  Beyond the grove, the land opened to rolling hills, ancient ruins, and the next tribe—the People of the Wind, long forgotten, said to guard one of the Nine Karmic Temples.

  The journey had only just begun.

  And the throne… still waited.