As darkness clouded Bikram's mind, he found a silver light pierced through, falling on his closed eyelids. The faint warmth stirred him, pulling him from unconsciousness. As his senses began to return, the memory of what had happened returned.
He was buried, the weight pressing down on him, there was the rough texture of bark against his skin. He was trapped beneath a pile of massive tree trunks, only a few rays of sunlight managed to spin through the gaps, illuminating the devastation around him.
With a sharp inhale, Bikram clenched his jaw and forced his body to move. As muscles strained, he shoved against the trunks above him, pushing them aside with his sheer force. The massive logs groaned as they shifted, rolling away as he rose from the wreckage that had swallowed him whole.
His clothes were torn in places, dirt and debris to his skin, but none of the matter mattered now, as he scanned his surroundings.
It seemed like the forest was gone.
What had once been a dense, thriving woodland, now was no more, as giant uprooted trees lay scattered across the land like fallen soldiers of the forest. Their massive roots were exposed to the sky. The earth looked torn apart, raw and scarred from the force of the impact. The air was thick with dust and eerie silence after the destruction.
Bikram's breathing became a quick haze, as his gaze darted around, his heart hammering in his chest.
Where were they?
His stomach twisted. Manash and Suraj, where were his friends in this destruction?
"Manash!" he called out, his voice rough, filled with urgency. His eyes searched here and there fanatically, scanning the debris for any sign of movement.
But there was no response.
"Suraj!" he shouted again, desperation creeping into his voice. As his pulse pounding.
Still nothing.
His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. The silence was suffocating.
Then suddenly—he heard something, a sound of slight movement.
Bikram, without any hesitation, rushed toward the sound, tearing through the wreckage like a madman. He sat aside massive tree branches and broken trunks, his hands scraping against rough bark and debris.
As he cleared away the remnants of destruction, his house pounded. Then, he saw someone.
It was Suraj.
Relief flooded over Bikram. Suraj wasn't unconscious. His body bore no major injuries, but his hoodie was shredded, and his skin was covered in dirt and scratches. He tried to move, but the sharp grimace on his face told Bikram that his body was wracked with pain.
"Damn you, idiot… if I had died… I swear I would have killed you…" Suraj muttered, his voice strained as he struggled to sit up.
Manash expression eased up slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. Seeing Suraj conscious, alive eased the suffocating weight in his chest.
"Yeah? And how exactly would you kill me, if you were already dead?" Bikram smirked, offering his hand.
Suraj rolled his eyes but grabbed Bikram's hand, letting him pull him up.
Then, as Suraj steadied himself, his expression shifted. "Where's Manash?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency.
Before Bikram could answer, another faint sound reached their ears. Their eyes widened in unison.
It could be Manash they thought, without wasting a second, they bolted toward the noise, shoving aside debris with renewed desperation. Just hoping praying that he was also fine.
And then they found him, Manash, he was in bad shape. His T-shirt was in tatters, and his body was covered in dirt and bruises, He was moving, but slowly, he was alive and conscious too.
"I am… really glad…You two aren't dead…" he said, smirking, but his voice strained with pain.
Bikram and Suraj exhaled deeply, the tension in their bodies loosening just a little. They exchanged a look of relief, exhaustion, gratitude.
Then, without a word, they extended their hands to Manash, ready to pull him back on his feet.
But then, suddenly—
Manash just stared at them, confused. As he froze, his eyes widening, a deep settled on his face as a terrible realization struck him.
"Where is Satya?" Manash asked, his voice sharp with urgency, as panic crept into his expression.
At his words, the realisation hit Bikram and Suraj like a lightning strike. As both of their expression darkened, twisted into fear.
How had they noticed? How had they not thought of his sooner?
Without wasting a second, Manash and Suraj threw themselves into searching, lifting broken branches and overturned trunks, their desperation growing with each passing second. But there was no sign of him.
Bikram, however, knew he had been closest to Satya before everything went dark. He rushed toward the spot where he had woken up, pushing away the wreckage with renewed urgency. His heart pounded against his ribs as he tossed aside debris, his breath quick and uneven.
Then he heard something…
A faint ragged breath, it was weak, strained. Almost undetectable.
Bikram's head snapped around, trying to pinpoint the sound. His pulse quickened.
Satya? He was just a human, unlike them, he didn't possess enhanced strength or endurance. Even if he was alive, he might not have much time.
Bikram's hands moved on instinct, shoving aside whatever lay in his path—branches, shattered trunks, even massive chunks of uprooted trees. The weight didn't matter. In that urgency, any weight was nothing for Bikram.
Then, his breath hitched, suddenly, he saw a hand, bloodied, motionless.
Panic surged through him like wildfire. Without hesitation, he grabbed the tangled mess of wreckage covering the body and hurled it aside, his chest tightening with dread.
And then he saw him, Satya!
He lay beneath the collapsed remains of the forest, his body a broken mess. Blood coated his skin, pooling around him. His right arm was not there, it was torn off at the shoulder. A thick tree branch had impaled his stomach. His head was covered in deep gashes, as blood trailed down his face.
This was bad, really bad. He was badly injured before and how he was in worse condition.
"Manash…. Suraj…" Bikram yelled out to them, his voice raw with urgency.
Hearing the desperation in Bikram's tone, they rushed to him, their breath catching the moment they saw Satya's condition. A terror flashed across their faces.
Manash dropped to his knees beside him, his hands trembling. "Satya… Satya!" He called his name over and over, his voice breaking with fear.
But there was no response.
Their faces turned pale, their minds screaming at them to deny the unthinkable.
As Manash pressed his ear to Satya's chest. For a moment, time seemed to stop. Then, he heard it.
There was a heartbeat, but it was too weak, too faint, but still there.
Manash's breath hitched, and he looked up at the others, his expression filled with urgency.
"His heart is still beating."
"But it's too weak" Manash continued, his voice tense. "We need to do something."
Suraj clenched his fists, his frustration evident. Then, almost in defeat, he muttered, "If only Vani was here…"
But suddenly, a faint sound cut through the heavy air, a distant whirring, sharp and rhythmic.
It grew louder. As it seemed it was getting closer.
The unmistakable noise of a helicopter.
Bikram, Manash, and Suraj snapped their heads upward, scanning the sky. Their breaths were still ragged from exhaustion, but their eyes widened as they spotted a helicopter approaching fast.
The wind from its blades sent a powerful gust down, rustling through the sea of uprooted trees and shattered debris. The machine hovered above them, unable to land in the chaotic wreckage.
Then—two thick ropes dropped from its sides.
Four figures descended swiftly, their movements precise. At first glance, they seemed ordinary people in casual attire, but one of them stood out, a man in a black jacket, his short-cropped hair cut with the precision of military training.
As they landed, two women among them rushed toward Manash and the others, their expressions grim as they noticed Satya's condition. Their brows furrowed, their concern evident.
"Is he still breathing?" one of them asked, her voice filled with urgency. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, her presence exuding a sense of experience.
Manash swallowed hard. "He is… but it's faint and too weak…" His tone was sharp with worry.
The woman gave a firm nod. "Don't worry."
Without hesitation, she and the other woman moved closer to Satya. The other had a big bag hanging from her shoulder. The woman knelt beside him, steadying her breath. Then, she raised her hand over his broken body, hovering just inches above his body.
A moment of silence hung in the air.
The woman began to chant softly, her voice a barely audible murmur. Yet it carried a profound weight, an aura of something ancient and powerful.
Manash and the others felt it. The sheer presence of her words felt powerful but not too heavy, but it had an aura, almost reverent.
"ॐ त्र्यम्बकं यजामहे," (Om Tryambakam Yajamahe)
As the words left her lips, a glowing symbol appeared on the back of her hand, faint at first, like a flickering ember struggling against the dark.
"सुगन्धिं पुष्टिवर्धनम्" (Sugandhim Pushtivardhanam)
She was chanting the Mrityunjaya Mantra, the invocation of healing and protection. The symbol on her hand pulsed brighter, and her palms began to emit a soft green radiance, the light spilling onto Satya's broken body.
His laboured breathing eased up slightly.
"उर्वारुकमिव बन्धनान् मृत्योर्मुक्षीय मामृतात्" (Urvarukamiva bandhanan Mrityor mukshiya mamritat)
She repeated the sacred lines, her voice steady, unwavering. The green glow only deepened, enveloping Satya's unconscious body like a protective cocoon.
Manash, Bikram, and Suraj watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with awe.
She was a Devangsh.
A healer wielding the power of the Mrityunjaya Mantra, fighting to stabilize Satya's fading life energy.
Meanwhile, the other woman worked swiftly beside her. With practised efficiency, she tore open a roll of white bandages and pressed them firmly against Satya's ravaged shoulder, wrapping the torn stump of his missing arm with urgent care.
Then, with precise movements, she gripped the branch impaling his stomach. With one deep breath, she gave it a sharp pull.
As the wood slid free, blood began to well up, but before it could spill too much, she pressed something thick and white against the wound, sealing it with firm pressure.
And as the healing light continued to bathe Satya's body, hope flickered in the hearts of those watching.
Then, suddenly the man in the black jacket approached, his presence commanded immediate attention. He looked to be in his forties, but there was an undeniable strength in his stance, there was a disciplined aura that spoke of experience, authority, and respect that even gods might acknowledge.
His sharp gaze shifted toward the women tending to Satya.
"Is he stable?" His voice was deep, firm and unyielding.
"I have stabilized his condition. He hasn't completely lost his life energy… but… we need to get him out of here, now." There was urgency in her tone, a quiet but pressing alarm.
The man nodded, his expression unreadable, before tilting his head slightly upward. Above them, the helicopter still hovered, its blades slicing through the air like an ever-present storm. He gestured toward it with two fingers, a silent signal.
Almost immediately, something began descending from the chopper.
It was a stretcher.
It lowered swiftly, it was swaying slightly from the force of the wind.
The glowing light in the healer's hands faded, as she rose to her feet. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes still observing Satya's battered condition, just to ensure he wouldn't slip away in these crucial moments.
The man stepped forward without hesitation, kneeling beside Satya. With steady hands, he reached for him, preparing to lift him onto the stretcher.
The woman looked at Manash and the others, her gaze unwavering.
"Can you help?" she asked, her voice steady yet urgent.
Without hesitation, the three of them nodded, stepping forward to assist. Together, they gently placed Satya onto the stretcher. Their movements were careful and deliberate, aware of his fragile state.
The moment they finished, the stretcher was pulled upwards, the helicopter's ropes lifting him away from the devastation below. The blades of the helicopter roared to life, a forceful gust of wind following the ascent, as the ropes yanked him higher into the sky.
The man turned to the two women, his eyes sharp with purpose.
"You should go with him. He might need your help."
They nodded, immediately grasping the ropes that would pull them back up. As the helicopter hoisted them away, Manash, Bikram, and Suraj watched the figures ascend, the roar of the blades and the gusts of air stirring up the ground beneath them.
Once the helicopter had departed, its powerful blades sending a final gust of wind across the ground, the man turned his attention back to the trio.
"So, who are you?"
Manash straightened, his expression calm but still full of the lingering tension from the chaotic moments before.
"I am Manash," he responded, "and this is Bikram and Suraj." He gestured toward them, and each of them nodded in acknowledgement.
The man's eyes lingered on them for a moment, scrutinizing, them as though weighing something heavy.
"Are you all Devangsh?" he asked.
They nodded, though confusion flickered in their expressions.
Who was this man? And why did he seem so composed in the face of all this destruction?
The man's gaze shifted to a distant point, where the remnants of the battle were still evident, there was a vast crater, a jagged scar on the earth that seemed to stretch farther than it should.
"Who the hell created that?" he asked, his tone sharp, his eyes narrowing. He pointed toward the destruction, toward where they remembered having three buildings, now only a vast crate on the ground.
For a moment, the three of them stood silent, the question hanging in the air. It took a moment for the realization to hit them. They turned to see the massive crater and their expressions faltered.
Manash's face twisted in frustration, his eyes flashing with anger.
"What is this, Bikram?" he snapped. "I told you to destroy just the buildings… not half the damn forest, you idiot!"
Bikram's eyes widened with a mix of guilt and disbelief.
"Sorry," he muttered, his voice sincere. "I didn't mean to..."
Suraj turned to the man and gave a slight bow. "Sorry, sir…" he said respectfully before shooting a glare at Bikram. "It's this idiot who caused all of this."
The man studied Bikram for a moment, his sharp gaze assessing him.
'This one… possesses such raw power...'
The man narrowed his eyes and asked. "How did he do that?"
Suraj exhaled, shaking his head. "It's his weapon… He threw it into the sky, and when it returned with…"
His words abruptly cut off. His body tensed, his eyes widening in sudden realization.
"Wait… There was another man with you. Where is he?" he asked urgently, his voice rising with alarm.
The man frowned at the question. "He was in the crater. Why?"
Suraj's face paled. "That's bad… really bad. If he touched it…" He trailed off, but the fear in his voice made the warning clear.
The man's brows furrowed deeper. "Don't worry… he's a Devangsh too."
"That doesn't matter," Suraj said, his tone unusually sharp.
Without another word, he turned to Bikram, who was still in the middle of getting scolded by Manash.
"Bikram!"
Suraj's urgent tone made both Manash and Bikram whip their heads toward him. When they saw his expression, worried, tense, almost twisted with dread, it sent a shiver down their spines.
His expression clearly said that something was wrong, very wrong.
*****
Deep within the massive crater, another man stood, his gaze filled with curiosity and fascination. He appeared to be in his thirties, his sharp eyes scanning the destruction around him. In the very centre of the crater, something was embedded in the ground—Bikram's Goda (mace).
Circling it slowly, the man furrowed his brows, his expression twisting in deep thought.
"This crater has to be at least 200 meters in diameter…" he muttered to himself. "But how in the world is that even possible?"
His mind struggled to process the sheer scale of the destruction. His attention, however, kept pulling back to the golden Goda(Mace). Its presence was overpowering, exuding an aura unlike anything he had ever encountered.
Was it possible…?
Could an actual Deva have been here?
Could this weapon have been wielded by a true warrior god?
A wild thought crossed his mind. His heart pounded as he murmured under his breath, "What if this was mine…?"
The mystical energy radiating from the Goda was mesmerising his heart, its presence commanding, demanding. The temptation was unbearable. His hand twitched, drawn to it. He just wanted to hold it, just once. To feel its power. To wield such strength.
His fingers stretched forward, mere inches from the divine weapon—
"WAIT!"
A thunderous voice shattered the air, sharp and urgent.
He snapped his head up, startled.
At the edge of the crater stood Bikram, Manash, Suraj, and the man in black jacket, their eyes wide with alarm.
Their expressions were tense, filled with fear—almost as if they expected something terrible to happen.
The man hesitated, his hand still hovering slightly away from the Golden Goda(Mace).
But his fingertips slightly brushed against the golden handle of the Divine Goda (mace).
In that instant, an overwhelming surge of power shot through his body like a violent bolt of lightning. It was uncontrollable, wild—far beyond what any ordinary could withstand.
And... 'BOOM!'
Before he could even react, the immense force recoiled against him, flinging him backwards with incredible velocity. He crashed into the ground, the impact rattling his bones, his body slamming into the earth.
A sharp, agonizing pain erupted in his arm.
He coughed violently, blood splattering onto the dirt. His entire body trembled as raw energy coursed through his veins, tearing through his insides. His arm, the one that had dared to touch the weapon, hung limply, shattered.
The Divine Weapon had rejected him. Not only that, it had punished him for his arrogance.
Bikram, Manash, and Suraj rushed forward, their expressions twisted in concern and alarm. They had tried to warn him—but they were too late.
Even the man in the black jacket was frozen in shock.
He knew the wounded man was a Devangsh, yet the weapon had tossed him aside like an insect.
And the one who wielded such power… was Bikram?
This was no ordinary weapon. This was something truly Divine.
Without hesitation, Bikram, Manash, and Suraj slid down the steep crater wall, scrambling to reach the injured man. His breathing was ragged, blood dripping from his lips, his body barely clinging to consciousness.
It was as if the very act of attempting to wield such a weapon had nearly cost him his life.
"Rihant!"
The man rushed to the injured Devangsh, his eyes filled with concern.
"Dammit, your arm is completely shattered!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency.
Then, he turned sharply to Manash and the others, his expression darkening.
"What the hell was that?!" His voice was firm, edged with frustration and disbelief.
Manash hesitated before answering. "It's… Bikram's weapon," he said, glancing at Bikram. "It doesn't allow just anyone to touch it..." His voice trailed off into a whisper, as if even speaking about it carried weight.
The man's brows furrowed as he turned his gaze to Bikram.
"A weapon like that, with such power, in his hand?" he questioned, looking at Bikram. His tone was laced with scepticism. The idea seemed utterly unbelievable to him, as if such a divine weapon had no business being wielded by someone who looked like a teenager.
Before anyone could respond, the sound of rotor blades sliced through the air.
A second helicopter appeared overhead, its powerful presence commanding their attention.
Manash, Bikram, and Suraj looked up as the aircraft hovered just above them. Moments later, a rope ladder was dropped down, their way out.
The man clenched his jaw, his gaze shifting between Rihant's battered form, Bikram, and the divine weapon that had nearly killed Rihant a Devangsh.