On Planet Vasundhara, there was once a war—not remembered
for how it was fought, nor for who won, but for what it left behind. The
Devashur Sangram, fought between the Devta, beings aligned with the sustaining
force of nature, and the Ashur, those who drew power from its darker side, did
not restore balance. Instead, it reshaped the world itself.
From its aftermath, eleven remnants came into existence.
They were not creations, but consequences—each different in form, nature, and
purpose. One of them took the form of a black sphere and drifted away into
space, vanishing beyond reach. Two became part of Vasundhara itself, forming
vast lines across the planet. One remained closed, while the other fractured,
marked by a faint blue glow.
Four light-like spheres moved into these two locations,
dividing between them. Two cubic structures shot away from the planet at great
speed, disappearing into the unknown. Among all of these, one was neither an
object nor a place, but something closer to a system—a threshold.
It existed within the fractured line.
Anything that entered it was not destroyed. It was
processed, understood, and returned as a living form. But it never returned to
a fixed location. The fracture stretched across multiple regions of the world,
making its outcome unpredictable.
That unpredictability led to an attempt at control.
King Jaganeshwar, influenced by S.T.A.R.—an organization
dedicated to Space Technology and Astral Research—authorized the creation of a
machine. Its purpose was simple: whatever entered the fracture would return to
the same place.
For a time, it worked.
Then something went wrong.
No records explained what truly happened. Only the result
remained—the king lost his two sons and his younger brother. After that, the
entire site connected to the fracture was hidden away from the world.
"And that place… is here."
A page turned.
An old hand, not entirely human, slowly lowered the book.
Deep beneath the king's palace, an underground chamber
stretched into darkness. Rows of lamps lined both sides in perfect parallel,
their dim glow barely holding back the shadows. The stone floor was scattered
with bodies—guards who no longer moved.
A figure walked through them.
Short in stature, with a tail trailing behind him, his form
was neither fully human nor entirely beast. His dark clothes were torn, and
fresh wounds marked his body, but his steps did not slow. His eyes remained
fixed ahead, as if nothing else in the room mattered.
"Finally… it took long enough to reach here."
As he approached the wall, his tail shifted behind him,
slowly aligning toward the surface. A faint tremor ran through it as energy
began to gather, flowing along tightened muscles and rising veins before
concentrating at the tip. The strain showed clearly on his face, but it did
nothing to hide the excitement beneath.
"This is the beginning of Numans."
He lowered his head slightly and raised his arms to shield
his face. The release came instantly. A surge of plasma struck the wall,
tearing it open into a wide, spherical breach. The edges melted under the
impact, dripping downward as smoke spread outward.
Yado stepped through without hesitation.
Inside, he stopped.
The ground ahead was torn apart by a vast vertical fracture
that extended far beyond sight. Within it, a strange blue liquid
existed—neither flowing nor still. Nearby stood several machines connected by
thick cables, positioned close to the fracture but not directly attached to it.
Each one carried the same marking: S.T.A.R.
Yado moved forward quickly, almost on instinct, his body
reacting in a sudden leap before he forced himself to stop. A flicker of
discomfort crossed his face. He straightened immediately, controlling his
posture, and continued walking in a more measured, human way.
Reaching the machines, he began examining them. His hand
hovered over one complex unit before pulling back.
"…Better not touch this one."
He shifted to another device positioned closer to the
fracture.
"This is where it starts."
Opening his bag, he took out several black stones, each
shaped like a large pearl with different markings carved into them. Their sizes
and patterns varied, hinting at different levels. After a brief look, he picked
the smallest one.
"This will do."
The others went back into the bag.
From another compartment, he pulled out a small spider-like
device. It remained still at first, but the moment it came near the stone, its
metallic limbs reacted, gripping onto it tightly.
Without wasting time, Yado placed both into the machine and
stepped back.
Nothing happened.
His expression tightened. He pressed a button, then another,
tapping the surface with growing impatience.
"Come on…"
Still nothing.
"This can't be broken… not after coming this far…"
He stopped.
His gaze shifted to the cables running along the floor,
following them to another unit. Realization struck instantly. Moving quickly,
he activated the power source.
A low hum filled the chamber.
Lights flickered on—one by one—until the entire system came
alive. The scanner began its process, analyzing and storing data before
completing its cycle. Yado removed the core and placed it into the input unit.
This time, the machine responded.
A steady vibration began as the stone was drawn forward and
sent into the fracture.
Yado watched closely, anticipation building-
until a distant sound broke his focus.
Footsteps.
His body stiffened.
"No… not now…"
At the same moment, the system reacted. The tracker
activated, and movement began within the output unit. From the fracture,
something emerged, encased in blue liquid, slowly forming into a dense,
cocoon-like structure.
The footsteps grew louder.
Soldiers entered through the breach, led by their commander.
Their eyes moved across the chamber—the broken wall, the fallen guards, and
Yado standing near the machines.
"Who did this?"
No answer came.
Yado moved first. He dropped low and launched forward, his
tail firing bursts of energy that struck two soldiers and threw them back.
Another intercepted the attack mid-air, cutting through it with a charged
blade.
Yado closed the distance instantly, attacking with sharp,
clawed strikes before shifting toward another target. A spear struck him
mid-motion, sending him to the ground. He rolled and tried to push himself up—
but before he could rise, a heavy force pressed down on his
tail, freezing his body in place.
The commander stood over him, his foot holding the tail
firmly. No extra force, no unnecessary movement—yet the message was clear. Any
attempt to move would not end well.
From the fracture, a sound rose.
A scream.
For a moment, everything paused. Some soldiers turned toward
it and began moving closer—
then something cut through the air.
Feathers.
Sharp and precise, they tore through multiple targets before
the commander caught one mid-flight. A second later, explosions erupted across
the chamber, bringing down sections of the wall as smoke spread everywhere.
Through the haze, a figure stepped forward.
A girl with wings.
Another wave of feathered strikes followed, this time
exploding on impact. The remaining soldiers fell one after another, leaving
only the commander standing.
"You shouldn't have done that."
He moved forward without hesitation.
She met him head-on. Their clash was immediate—his blade
striking against her hands, sparks scattering as her stone-like skin resisted
the impact. She created distance and countered with another barrage, forcing
him back for a moment, but his speed increased as flames ignited along his
blade.
The momentum shifted as the commander pressed forward, his
strikes growing heavier with each swing. Megha was forced back step by step,
her defense starting to give in under the increasing pressure.
She tried to create distance, her wings spreading as she
prepared to counter, but the opening came too late. The commander stepped in at
that exact moment and brought his blade down with full force.
The impact broke through her defense and sent her flying
backward. Megha crashed hard onto the stone floor, the force carrying her
across the ground before she came to a stop, her body struggling to respond.
The commander walked toward her, steady and certain, as if
the outcome was already decided. He raised his weapon again, preparing to end
it.
"I don't know who you are… but this ends now."
Behind him, Yado forced himself up, his body trembling under
exhaustion. His eyes locked onto the commander as energy began to gather in his
tail again, this time unstable and far more intense.
The veins along it tightened as the energy compressed toward
the tip, forming into a dense point. There was no hesitation left as he
released everything in a single shot.
The plasma cut through the air and pierced straight through
the commander's chest, passing cleanly from one side to the other. His body
froze for a brief moment before the blade slipped from his hand and he
collapsed.
The moment the attack ended, Yado's strength gave out. He
dropped to the ground immediately, breathing heavily, unable to move any
further.
For a few seconds, the chamber fell silent.
Megha took a deep breath as the tension left her body. She
remained still for a moment, then slowly pushed herself up, regaining her
balance.
Her gaze shifted toward Yado, and she began walking toward
him.
As she approached, Yado's body stiffened slightly, his
breathing uneven as a trace of unease appeared on his face.
She stopped in front of him and extended her hand.
"Are you… Master? I'm Megha."
The world above knew nothing of what had just unfolded
beneath it.
Far to the south, where the ocean stretched endlessly
beneath the sky, the last light of the sun still lingered. A golden glow spread
across the water, fading slowly as the sun dipped toward the horizon. For a
brief moment, it felt as if the sea itself was holding that light in place,
unwilling to let it go.
Then the clouds moved in.
They gathered quietly at first, then all at once, covering
the sky as though they had been waiting for this exact moment. The waves,
restless until now, began to calm. The surface of the ocean smoothed, losing
its earlier energy as if something unseen had settled over it.
From above, a single snowflake drifted down.
It was delicate—almost like a frozen flower.
The moment it touched the water, its white form dissolved
into something transparent. Then another followed. And another.
Within seconds, the sky filled with them.
Countless snow-like petals began to fall, spreading across
the ocean in silence. The wind slowed, turning cooler, softer. Even the fading
sunlight seemed to pause, blending with the falling flakes to form a faint arc
of color in the distance.
And beyond it—
Mandar Mountain stood.
Vast. Still. Watching.
"Mandar Mountain…"
"It really is something else."
Master Mohan's voice carried calmly across the deck.
The vessel beneath them cut smoothly through the water—a
Peru, built not just to sail across the surface, but to move beneath it when
needed. Its structure was solid, its movement steady, barely disturbed by the
quieting sea.
Around him stood ten young students—four girls and six
boys—each focused on the distant mountain, their expressions shifting between
curiosity and disbelief.
"I seriously thought we were living on an island this whole
time," one of the girls admitted, her eyes still fixed ahead.
A boy nearby let out a short laugh. "Yeah… that explains a
lot."
She turned toward him, slightly confused. "What does that
mean?"
"It means," he said, barely holding back a grin, "you might
want to start paying a little more attention to where you actually live."
A few of the others chuckled.
"I knew it was a mountain," another boy added quickly,
folding his arms with quiet pride.
"I just thought… maybe the name didn't mean it literally,"
the same girl replied, her voice softening a little.
Someone behind them scoffed lightly. "Who names an island
'Mountain' and expects people not to question it?"
This time, the laughter spread more openly across the group.
Then it stopped.
Master Mohan's gaze shifted toward them.
It wasn't harsh—but it was enough.
The boy who had been laughing straightened immediately, his
voice dying mid-breath. The girl lowered her head slightly, a faint trace of
embarrassment crossing her face.
A moment later, Master Mohan placed a gentle hand on her
head.
"There's no need to feel bad," he said calmly.
"When I was younger, I thought the same."
The tension eased almost instantly.
"The confusion comes from its scale," he continued, looking
back toward the mountain. "Mandar isn't shaped the way it appears from a
distance."
That caught their attention again.
"It's not?" the earlier boy asked.
Master Mohan shook his head slightly. "Its true structure is
triangular. Each side stretches nearly fifteen kilometers."
"What—?"
The same boy blinked, clearly thrown off. "That makes no
sense. It looks completely round."
A second boy smirked faintly. "And you were just making fun
of her."
A few quiet laughs followed again—lighter this time.
"But Master," another student spoke up, more seriously now,
"I've walked along the outer path before. It still looks circular from there."
Master Mohan nodded once. "That's because what you've seen
isn't the mountain itself, but a path carved into it."
He paused briefly, letting the words settle.
"A three-layered circular route surrounds it. From within
that path, everything appears round. But that isn't its true form."
"So you're saying," one of them leaned forward slightly, "if
we saw it from above… it would look different?"
A boy at the back laughed under his breath. "From above?
Who's going up there? Does this mountain even have a top?"
The moment the words left his mouth—
A sharp *tap* landed on his arm.
"Ah—!"
He jerked back instantly, clutching his arm.
The others burst into laughter, this time unable to hold it
in.
Master Mohan stood there, holding what looked like a simple
staff—formed moments ago from the very water around them.
"If you don't understand something," he said calmly, "it's
better not to jump to conclusions."
The boy muttered something under his breath, rubbing his
arm, but didn't argue.
Master Mohan's gaze lifted toward the sky once more.
The light had dimmed further.
"Evening has settled," he said. "And calm seas don't stay
calm for long."
The students quieted down.
"We're heading back."
Without another word, the Peru adjusted its direction,
turning toward Mandar Mountain.
The snowfall continued, soft and steady, covering the
surface of the sea in a thin, shimmering layer. The closer they moved, the more
the mountain seemed to grow—not just in size, but in presence.
It no longer felt distant.
It felt… overwhelming.
And silently, the Peru moved toward it.
Mandar Mountain no longer felt distant.
As the Peru moved closer, its presence began to change—not
in shape, but in weight. The calm surface hid something far deeper, something
that could not be understood from afar. Snow had begun settling across parts of
the terrain, while elsewhere life continued undisturbed. Children played near
the outer zones, their laughter blending with the quiet rhythm of the mountain,
unaware of the shift that had already begun.
Near the entrance of the armory stood a boy.
He was around nine years old, calm and still, holding a
metal key in his hand. His gaze remained steady, fixed on nothing in
particular, yet not unfocused either.
The doors behind him opened.
Master Kashyap stepped out, his age visible in his posture
but not in his presence. His eyes moved toward the boy, observing him for a
brief moment before he spoke in a low, firm tone.
"What you're doing will not change anything for me. You
would be better off staying with the others… or learning under Master Mohan."
Om said nothing.
He simply extended the key forward.
For a brief second, Kashyap's expression shifted—subtle, but
enough to suggest that he understood something he hadn't expected to. He took
the key without another word and secured the door.
Not far from there, a group of children walked toward the
seventh gate as the snowfall grew heavier.
"It's strange… not a single star is visible," one of them
said, looking up.
"There are clouds," another replied casually. "What did you
expect?"
"Wait… look there."
A third pointed toward the southern sky.
A faint light had appeared.
"At first, it looked like a falling star," one of them
murmured.
"It's not falling," another said more carefully. "It's
coming toward us."
The light grew larger.
At that exact moment, a sharp beam of energy shot upward
from a higher layer of the mountain. The air trembled as it moved, and before
anyone could react—
It collided with the descending light.
The impact lit up the entire sky.
For a fraction of a second, everything was consumed in
brightness. The sound followed a moment later, spreading across the mountain in
a deep, echoing force.
Then—
Silence.
But it did not last.
From within the fading smoke, a form began to emerge.
It burned.
Not like fire on a surface—but like something that was
fire.
Kashyap's gaze locked onto it.
"This is not a weapon…"
The realization came a heartbeat later.
"…This is a being."
The figure moved toward them—fast, direct, unwavering.
His focus sharpened instantly.
"Lord…"
The word left his lips almost instinctively.
"As long as I stand—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
There was no time.
Om remained where he was.
He did not step back.
His eyes stayed fixed on the approaching figure, as if
something beyond understanding held him there.
"Go inside," Kashyap ordered.
No response.
Kashyap did not repeat himself.
He pulled a blue bead from the bracelet on his wrist and
closed his fist around it before bringing both hands forward.
"Varun-Paash(water of Noose.)"
Water surged from beneath him, cutting through the ground
before rising and binding itself into a chain mid-air. It wrapped around the
fiery figure and held it in place.
For a moment—
It stopped.
Then it didn't
The figure remained suspended, not resisting in a
conventional way, yet not contained either. The moment its feet touched the
ground, the surroundings shifted.
Heat spread instantly.
Snow evaporated into mist. The air itself grew unstable,
bending under the rising temperature.
Kashyap moved.
Fire gathered along his limbs, focused and controlled. The
ring on his finger released a sharp glow that condensed into a dense blue flame
around his fist.
He struck.
The attack was direct, meant to end it in a single motion.
But the figure raised its hand.
The water chain shattered.
And in the same motion—
It struck him.
The force was overwhelming.
Kashyap's body was thrown backward, crashing into the stone
behind him. The flame dissipated instantly, and his body went still.
The figure released a sound—not a word, but something closer
to a cry.
The environment reacted violently.
Wind, debris, vapor—everything spiraled outward.
Om stood at the center of it.
He raised his hand instinctively.
The storm passed him without resistance.
When it cleared—
She stood before him.
Now fully visible.
Tall. Formed of fire. Unstable
Her body was breaking apart and reforming at the same time,
cracks of energy running across her surface. The damage she carried was
evident, yet she remained standing.
And her gaze—
Was on him.
She began to move forward.
At that moment, another presence arrived.
Master Mohan.
He landed without hesitation, his eyes taking in both Om and
the approaching figure in a single glance. There was no confusion in his
movement.
Water responded to his command instantly.
It surged forward, striking the figure repeatedly, each
attack heavier than the last. The flow changed, adapted, increased in pressure
and direction.
But she did not stop.
Each strike landed
Each one *should* have slowed her.
None did
Mohan's control sharpened.
"Varun-Sharp(Water Snake) ."
The water coiled into a serpent and wrapped around her,
constricting with immense force. For a brief moment, her movement paused.
Then—
She moved again.
Within it.
Through it.
The restraint broke, reformed, tightened again—and failed
again.
Each time she came closer.
Om stepped forward.
Slowly.
Without fear.
The distance between them closed.
Mohan saw it—
And this time, he did not hold back.
Water gathered in massive volume above him, compressing into
a dense sphere before being launched forward with full force.
But it was already too late.
She stood before Om.
Their distance—barely a step.
She extended her hand.
Om did the same.
For a moment, everything slowed.
The air stilled.
The sound faded.
Their hands were about to meet—
When Mohan reached them.
He pulled Om back sharply, turning his own body to shield
him.
And in the next instant—
The explosion erupted.
Fire expanded outward in a violent surge of energy.
Mohan took the impact from behind.
His body was thrown forward, but he held onto Om, keeping
him protected even as they crashed to the ground.
The force twisted his left arm unnaturally.
His breath faltered.
Om's head struck the ground, and his vision faded.
Then—
Silence returned.
The fire was gone.
The figure was gone.
Only smoke remained.
Mohan pushed himself up slowly, pain visible but controlled.
His gaze stayed fixed on the spot where she had stood.
Then something fell from above.
A golden axe.
It struck the ground and remained there.
Mohan stared at it.
His expression changed.
"…This is not possible."