The day Parashuram handed Rudra a real weapon, the mountain screamed.
Not metaphorically.
The wind howled with such violence that stones were torn from cliffs. Clouds collapsed inward, dark and heavy, as if the sky itself disapproved of what was about to occur.
Parashuram planted his axe into the ground.
The earth cracked.
"Pick," he said.
Before them lay weapons embedded in stone, scattered across the plateau like offerings to war itself.
Swords.
Spears.
Maces.
Bows.
Each radiated a different presence—some violent, some disciplined, some treacherous.
Rudra did not rush.
He walked.
Observed.
Listened.
The system activated quietly.
—
[Dharma–Karma Chronicle: Weapon Resonance Active]
[Compatibility Scan: Ongoing]
—
When Rudra stopped, Parashuram raised an eyebrow.
"A spear?" he asked. "Not glamorous."
"It is honest," Rudra replied.
He wrapped his fingers around the shaft.
The weapon hummed.
Stone shattered.
The spear came free as if it had been waiting.
—
[Weapon Bond Established]
[Type: War Spear]
[Status: Dormant]
—
Parashuram nodded once.
"Then you live or die by reach," he said.
Training became merciless.
Parashuram no longer struck to teach—he struck to kill.
Every opening was exploited.
Every mistake punished.
Rudra learned footwork until his calves burned constantly. Learned to shift weight on broken ground. Learned how distance decided battles long before strength mattered.
Weeks later, Parashuram led him into the forest.
"This is not training," the immortal warrior said. "This is extermination."
A roar split the trees.
A beast emerged—part lion, part boar, skin hardened like armor, eyes glowing with feral hunger.
A Rakshasa spawn.
Rudra's grip tightened.
The system spoke.
—
[Enemy Identified]
[Threat Classification: High]
[Authority Use: Optional]
[Recommendation: Martial Resolution]
—
Rudra stepped forward.
No authority.
No pressure.
No fear.
The beast charged.
Rudra moved.
He slid past the tusks, spear thrusting upward—not deep enough. The creature roared and swiped, claws tearing flesh from Rudra's shoulder.
Pain flared.
Rudra adjusted.
The second exchange was shorter.
A feint.
A pivot.
A thrust through the eye.
The beast collapsed, convulsing.
Rudra stood over it, breathing steadily.
Blood soaked the earth.
The system updated.
—
[First Independent Kill: Confirmed]
[Method: Martial Skill]
[Merit Gained: War Experience]
—
Parashuram watched silently.
Then smiled.
"Good," he said. "You didn't rely on birthright."
Years blurred.
Weapons rotated.
Sword.
Bow.
Axe.
Bare hands.
Rudra learned them all.
Not mastery—yet.
Understanding.
By the time he turned fifteen, Parashuram no longer attacked him directly.
Instead, he sent enemies.
Bandits.
Beasts.
Exiles who thought the mountain would hide them.
Rudra judged each encounter.
Kill.
Spare.
Break.
The system did not interfere.
It recorded.
—
[Dharma Ledger Expanding]
[Judgment Accuracy: High]
—
One night, Rudra sat beside the fire, cleaning his spear.
"Why do you not teach mercy?" he asked.
Parashuram snorted.
"Mercy is easy," he said. "Powerful men use it to feel good."
He leaned forward, eyes sharp.
"Judgment," Parashuram continued, "is harder. Because it means living with consequences."
Rudra nodded.
"I will," he said.
The mountain thundered again.
Far away, unseen threads of fate tightened.
The boy who left as a prince no longer existed.
Only a weapon tempered by pain remained.
And soon—
It would return to the world.
-- chapter 7 ended --