Deep within the forests of Bharat, shrouded in the veils of shadows, nestled a Gurukul—a sanctuary for the pursuit of knowledge, both of the mind and the body. The morning sun painted the ancient trees surrounding the Gurukul with hues of gold and green. The air resonated with the melodious chanting of Vedic hymns as students of various ages went about their daily routines. The morning sun provided much-needed warmth from the chill that lingered. It was a haven of knowledge, martial arts, and spiritual guidance. Students of various age groups could be seen doing their assigned tasks—some chanting Vedic hymns alongside the Gurus, others in deep meditation, and some engaged in the dedicated training area for martial arts.
The morning was very peaceful and serene among the clanging and clashing of swords and chants of Vedic hymns. There was a cheer going on in the designated training area. Students were cheering for the people sparring in the middle. There were four people in the middle. One of whom was [[Arya]], a 16-year-old boy with a well-built physique, and hazel eyes, his wheat-coloured body moved with practised agility among the students in the dedicated training area, his shaggy unkempt black hair glistening with sweat. The clash of swords echoed through the air as he engaged in a spirited duel, effortlessly taking on three opponents at once.
"Is this all you got?" Arya taunted playfully.
"Hey, no taunting Arya, this is all about respect", said the instructor Guru.
"Yes Guruji," Arya replied with a grin.
For someone facing three opponents at once, he had a very calm demeanour, what was more odd was that he was smiling ear to ear.
Arya ducked, countered, kicked, and lunged. In a flash, he had disarmed one opponent, knocked another to the ground, and had his sword at the third opponent's throat. The three opponents, recognizing Arya's prowess, conceded defeat, gasping for breath. Arya stood there, a smile playing on his lips, acknowledging the cheers from fellow students. The instructor guru, observing the bout, nodded approvingly and directed Arya to proceed to his next training—meditation.
He had been struggling with meditation as of late, every time he closed his eyes he would have flashes of the same imagery, an unknown indescribable assailant attacking someone and then it would vanish.
As Arya settled into the beginning stages of his meditation, instead of the unsettling flashes that haunted him, a sudden darkness descended, shrouding the serene atmosphere. The melodious chants of Vedic hymns were drowned out by panicked screams from students.
Arya opened his eyes at once. The scene unfolding in front of him shocked him; there was a sudden chill in the air, and the warm sun was gone, replaced by an ominous blackness. Arya's hazel eyes widened in alarm, and he instinctively rose to his feet.
"What's happening?" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Following the rush of students, Arya arrived at the main gathering area, where the sky itself seemed to have succumbed to an ominous blackness.
The air buzzed with tension as someone in the crowd exclaimed, "Rakshasas are attacking!"
Panic spread like wildfire. Arya's gaze focused on the dark, contorted figures that defied the natural order coming out of the darkness. The Rakshasas emerged from the shadows, their forms shifting and contorting with an otherworldly grace. Enormous and monstrous, they bore a fierce countenance with two fangs protruding from their mouths, ready to rend flesh. Their claw-like fingernails gleamed ominously in the dim light, and a growl that bespoke insatiable hunger emanated from their monstrous throats.
Usually, the rakshasas were uncoordinated and seemed focused only on disturbing prayer. However, this attack appeared more calculated and targeted than mere disruption. The air resonated with fear and uncertainty as Arya and other students readied themselves for battle.
Many Gurus and students alike were chanting hymns and mantras to create a suraksha kavach- a protective shield around the younger students to keep them out of harm. Others were gathering swords, shields, spears, bows and arrows among other weapons.
Arya sprinted toward the main gathering area, heart pounding in his chest. The once harmonious Gurukul now echoed with chaos, screams, and the unnatural sounds of the Rakshasas. Arya's instincts kicked in, and he reached for the sword at his side.
"Stand back, Arya!" a fellow student warned, but Arya wasn't one to shy away. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Don't worry, I can handle this." He replied.
An instructor guru, his face etched with concern, approached Arya.
"Arya, we are short on hands, help us out a bit, defend the Gurukul with all your might. We must protect our haven," the guru urged. Arya nodded, determination blazing in his hazel eyes.
The clash of swords resumed, but this time, it wasn't a training bout. Arya faced the Rakshasas, his sword flashing in the darkness. The Rakshasas descended upon the Gurukul like a horde of demons, their claws slashing and their fangs dripping with venom. The air filled with the sounds of clashing steel and the screams of the wounded.
Arya jumped into the fray, dodging and weaving through the Rakshasas' attacks. He struck first, his sword flashing through the air. They used all sorts of trickery and illusions to disturb their opponents. But before they could do anything to him, Arya attacked first. He was quick, agile and powerful on the battlefield. The situation seemed dire.
In the heart of the chaos, Arya's laughter rang out like a defiant challenge to adversity. With the grace of a seasoned warrior and the courage of a lion, he faced three Rakshasas simultaneously, his movements a blur of steel and determination.
The onlookers watched in awe as Arya danced through the battle, his sword flashing like a silver serpent. He ducked, dodged, and parried with effortless precision, making the bloodthirsty Rakshasas look like clumsy oafs. Their hisses of frustration echoed through the air as they struggled to land a single blow on their nimble opponent.
Arya, with the confidence of a seasoned warrior, taunted his adversaries, "What? That's it?"
His words only fuelled their anger, and they lunged at him with renewed ferocity. Arya met their charge head-on, his sword slicing through the air like a whirlwind. Green blood sprayed as he severed a Rakshasa's arm, sending the foul-smelling limb flying. With a swift kick, he sent another Rakshasa tumbling to the ground, and in a flash, he beheaded the third, sending a geyser of green blood erupting into the air.
The remaining Rakshasas faltered, momentarily stunned by Arya's display of skill and audacity. They had never encountered a warrior like him, one who fought with such joy and abandon.
Arya stood amidst the carnage, his sword dripping with Rakshasa blood, a wide grin spread across his face. "Come on, is that all you've got? I'm just getting warmed up."
The Rakshasas, their pride wounded, let out a collective roar and charged at Arya once more. But this time, Arya was ready. He met their attack with renewed vigour, his sword weaving a deadly dance through the air. He deflected their blows, countered their attacks, and struck with lightning speed, leaving a trail of dismembered Rakshasas in his wake.
The battle raged on, a symphony of clashing steel and guttural roars, but Arya remained unyielding. He fought with the ferocity of a cornered beast, his laughter echoing through the chaos, a testament to his unbreakable spirit.
Amid the battle, Arya's mind raced. Why were the Rakshasas attacking with such targeted aggression? Why here and why now? He had been at this Gurukul for almost 15 years and this had never happened before. The village near the Gurukul would get attacked sometimes, but not the Gurukul itself. The Gurukul had always been a place of peace and spiritual growth. As he fought, a deep-seated sense of responsibility drove Arya to protect not only himself but also the sanctity of the Gurukul.
The battle raged on, the clash of weapons and the guttural sounds of the Rakshasas creating a symphony of chaos. Arya, however, stood undeterred.
"Arya-" came a feeble grunt from the front courtyard which had now turned into a battlefield.
Arya's smile was immediately wiped off his face. He looked towards the source of the noise. "I am here. Where are you?" Arya called out.
He could only hear the call for help. He found the source at last, lying in the pool of blood both green and red mixed into a murky brown colour was Arya's sword instructor.
Arya rushed to his side and steadied himself, "Don't worry, nothing will happen to you. I am here." He said trying to sound comforting but his voice betrayed him.
The instructor guru smiled with immense difficulty and putting one arm on Arya's shoulder said, "Today, I saw more than a skilled warrior in you—I saw a young man embodying the spirit of the Gurukul."
With that, the instructor closed his eyes, and his hand slipped from Arya's shoulder. He was dead. Arya could not process what had happened. He shook the instructor shouting, "Wake up, wake up Guruji Wake up!"
A senior student came from behind, he put his hand on Arya's shoulder, "He is gone, Arya."