Arjun stared at Vikram, his mind spinning. The man's words hung in the air like an unanswered riddle.
"Chosen? War? What are you talking about? Arjun said, his voice raw with exhaustion and adrenaline.
Vikram did not move. His gaze fell on Arjuna, who rested for a while on the sword still clenched in his trembling hand. "The blade you hold is not just a weapon. It is a responsibility. One that comes with results.
Arjuna's grip became effortlessly strong. "I didn't ask for it," he said, shaking his head. "I don't even know what it is.
Vikram sighed, his demeanor softened slightly. "No one asks. But you don't have to choose. Fate does.
Arjun opens his mouth to argue, but Vikram raises his hand to silence him.
"Not here. Not yet. This is not the place to respond. He pointed to the ruined road, cracked pavement, and the smoldering debris of cars and stalls. In the distance, sirens lamented — a reminder that the world was not ready to understand what had just happened.
"Come with me," Vikram said firmly. "I will explain everything.
Arjuna hesitated. Every instinct told him to run, to get as far away from this madness as possible. But a darker part of him—the same part that wielded the sword with unnatural accuracy—told him that this man could capture the answers he desperately needed.
"Okay," Arjun murmured, sliding the sword into the makeshift sling of his belt. "But you seem to understand better.
A Hidden Sanctuary
Vikram led him through a labyrinth of back lanes, his steps echoing against crumbling walls and rusty gates. Arjuna tried to keep an eye on their route, but the roads faded into an indistinguishable mist.
In what felt like eternity, Vikram stopped before a simple door between two dilapidated buildings. She knocked in a strange rhythm – three fast reps followed by two slow ones.
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior.
"Welcome to the sanctuary," Vikram said as he stepped inside.
Arjuna followed hesitantly, his eyes adjusting to the sadness. The space was larger than it would appear from the outside, with a huge underground chamber lined with ancient relics, glowing maps, and shelves lined with books even older than Delhi. The air was thick with the smell of incense and some metallic smell, like ozone after a storm.
"What is this place?" asked Arjuna in a low voice.
"A stronghold," Vikram replied. "A refuge for those who fight to protect the realms."
"Area," Arjun repeated, his suspicions were palpable. "You mean ... Dimension? Portal? Is it all real?
Vikram turned to face her, his expression serious. "Yes. And what you saw tonight is just the beginning.
The Truth About Portals
Vikram gestured to Arjun to sit on a stone table in the center of the room. A large map was stretched across its surface, marked with symbols and glowing lines that pulsed faintly.
"This," began Vikram, pointing to the map, "is a representation of the realms." Each sphere exists in its own plane, connected by fragile obstacles. What you saw tonight was a breach — a tear in the fabric that separates our world from others.
Arjuna frowned, leaning close to the map. The flashing lines seemed to shift as he saw, patterns he couldn't quite understand. "So, what were those things? Creatures?"
"Monster," Vikram said bluntly. "Asura from hell world, Asura world. They are ready for power, and when the barriers are weak, they break.
"And me?" asked Arjuna, his voice quiet now. "Why are they after me?
Vikram hesitated, his jaw tightened. "Because you carry something they're afraid of." That sword - the divine weapon - is a weapon made of cosmic energy, intended to combat the forces of darkness. Only a chosen fielder can awaken its true potential.
Arjuna shook his head, disbelief printed on his face. "It's crazy. I am not a hero. I just... Me. Trying to get a man.
"Every hero just starts out as a man," Vikram said, his tone unshakable. "Do you think I chose this life?" Did any of us do that? But the moment that medal chose you, your life ceased to be your own.
Burden of responsibility
Arjun slipped back into his chair, his mind racing. It was too much to process - the portal, the sword, the idea that he was somehow connected with the war between the realms.
"I don't want that," he finally said. "Can't anyone else do that? Someone else... Deserved?"
"No one else can," Vikram said. "The medal only chooses once, and it never makes a mistake." Whether you admit it or not, you're part of it now.
Arjuna looked at the sword resting on the table. The celestial pattern on its blade seemed to glow faintly, as if answering your doubts. He reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers to the hilt.
As soon as he touched her, a wave of heat spread through her. Memories—not his own—flashed in his mind: warriors wielding blades in long-forgotten wars, their courage and sacrifice echoed through time.
Why me? She whispered.
Vikram placed his hand on her shoulder. Because the world needs you, Arjuna. And whether you like it or not, you have the option to choose. Fight, or let the realms fall.
A new mission
Before Arjuna could answer, a loud chime filled the room. Vikram turned to a glowing orb resting on a pedestal. It pulsed with a rhythmic light, and its expression darkened.
"We have trouble," he said.
"What kind of trouble?" asked Arjuna, standing up simply.
A new breach, Vikram replied, stepping towards a rack of weapons. He grabbed a spear and hung it on his back. "This time smaller, but just as dangerous." Are you ready to see what this war really looks like?
Arjun hesitated, his heart pounding. He wasn't ready – not even close. But the weight of the sword in his hand reminded him that he could never be.
"I'll be coming," he said at last.
Vikram nodded, his expression unreadable. "Come on, then, let's go. Welcome to the battle, chosen.
Please read it now on Google Books:.https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=7zc-EQAAQBAJ