The night had not yet ended, but the sky was already trembling.
Far on the horizon, lightning cracked open the darkness—blue, white, and gold—like the heavens themselves were announcing what was coming.
Word had spread across Punjab, across India, across borders:The Nihang Order was moving.
Not in silence.Not in secrecy.But like an approaching storm whose roar cannot be ignored.
The Dust of a Thousand Hooves
The great plains outside Anandpur Sahib shook.
Warhorses—jet black, deep brown, snow white—pounded the earth with unbroken rhythm. Their saddles carried warriors wrapped in blue, turbans towering like crowns, chakram glinting in the faint moonlight.
The Nihang Dal was gathering.
Torchlights flickered in long lines, carried by riders and foot soldiers alike, creating a river of fire stretching across the fields.
Children who watched from rooftops whispered:
"Baba Ji da Faujan aa rahe ne…The armies of the Guru are coming."
Zorawar Singh's Warning
In the center of the formation rode Zorawar Singh—back straight, spear balanced across his saddle.
He had not slept.
Not after what he witnessed by the Sarovar.Not after the message he carried in his heart.
When the generals arrived, he bowed briefly and spoke:
"The darkness we sensed is no longer waiting.It is moving.Tonight."
The older Nihangs exchanged glances—some grave, some fierce with anticipation.
Baba Gurdev Singh nodded.
"You saw it before any of us.Lead the vanguard."
Zorawar didn't hesitate.
"Where does the Guru call us, Baba ji?"
"Toward the river plains," Gurdev replied."There is movement in the forests.Our scouts vanished without a trace."
Zorawar gripped the reins.
A storm was about to break.
The First Echo of Battle
As dawn crept over the trees, a chilling sound drifted across the plains—neither human nor animal.
A metallic screech.
A rumble like twisted machinery awakening.
A sound of something unnatural entering the world.
Zorawar raised a fist, and the entire column stopped instantly.
Warhorses snorted.Chakram rattled.Hand on the hilt of his talwar, he whispered:
"Waheguru… show us what walks against us."
The forest ahead flickered with strange lights—red, sharp, shaking like sparks.
Then they saw movement.
Figures.
Hundreds.
No banners.No faces.Only silhouettes wearing armor too advanced, too cold, too hostile for any human army in the region.
Mercenaries?Machines?Or something neither?
Baba Gurdev joined Zorawar's side.
"They are not here for land," he said quietly."They want fear."
Zorawar's jaw tightened.
"They came to the wrong battlefield."
The Nihang Charge
When the enemy stepped forward, the drumbeat of nagara shook the air.
Boom.Boom.Boom.
The Nihangs responded.
Horses reared.Steel flashed.Shouts thundered across the plains.
"Bole So Nihal—""Sat Sri Akal!"
The charge began.
Hooves struck the earth like thunder.Blue turbans streamed behind them like banners of the sky.Spears leveled forward, glinting with divine fire.
The enemy opened fire—beams of red slicing through the morning light.
But the Nihangs did not slow.
Zorawar broke ahead of the line, talwar blazing with the first rays of sun.
He struck the enemy front like lightning.
One slash—armor split.Another—sparks flew.A third—an unearthly screech filled the air as a figure collapsed in a heap of broken metal.
They were machines.
Sent to test the Order.To measure their strength.To stall them from reaching something hidden deeper within the forest.
Zorawar shouted:
"They are probes!The real threat is deeper inside!"
And then—The ground trembled.
Violently.
As if something massive was awakening beneath the soil.
The Thunder Rises
Trees shook.Birds scattered.Even the machines paused, as if waiting.
The Nihangs tightened formation.
Baba Gurdev whispered:
"You felt the first ripple at the Sarovar, Zorawar.This… is the second."
Then the earth cracked open.
A low, monstrous hum vibrated the air—ancient, mechanical, unnatural, and alive.
A dark metallic structure began rising from beneath the forest floor—huge, silent, shaped like a buried fortress awakening after centuries.
Zorawar's heart pounded.
This was not human technology.Not local.Not earthly.
The machines around them stepped back, forming a perimeter.
As if guarding the birth of something far more powerful.
Baba Gurdev spoke what everyone felt:
"The real battle… begins now."
Zorawar lifted his spear high, eyes blazing.
"Then we will meet it as the Khalsa always has—without fear.Without hesitation.Without stepping back."
The thunder beneath their feet grew louder.
The forest trembled.
Something ancient and deadly was rising to face the Nihang Order.
And the warriors tightened their turbans, raised their steel, and prepared to meet the unknown.