The courtyard still echoed faintly with the sound of cracking wood and the reverberation of raw power, but Shiv had no time to reflect further.
BWOOOOOOOHHHH!!
A deep, thunderous horn bellowed across the Varma estate, its echo rolling through every hall, garden, and courtyard like a summons from the heavens.
Shiv stood, startled.
"…The Summon Horn."
It had only been blown a handful of times in his life. And every time, it meant one thing — the entire clan was to assemble before the Family Head.
Even the most reclusive elders, the most arrogant prodigies, and the youngest disciples were not exempt.
Not even the disgraced.
Not even Shiv Varma.
"…Father."
That one word was heavy in his mouth. Shiv hadn't spoken to his father in over three years. Not since the day the Clan Head publicly declared him a failure — a mistake of blood.
But today… today something had changed.
He turned toward the Grand Assembly Hall. The pain in his body was gone. In its place, power stirred.
"This is it," he thought, tightening his fists. "Let them look down on me. I'll show them what they chose to throw away."
"I'll become the Mahāṛṣi-Yodha — the Sage of Ten Thousand Techniques. And then I'll return everything they gave me… with interest."
He walked with purpose, but halfway along the polished stone path that led to the assembly, he heard it.
That voice.
"Well, well. If it isn't the clan's favorite punching bag."
Shiv paused.
From the garden walkway, Arjun emerged, his white martial robe pristine, his golden family insignia glinting in the sunlight. His long hair was tied in a warrior's knot, his aura calm but sharp — like a blade that enjoyed being sheathed only to savor the moment before cutting.
"You crawling out of your hole just because of the horn?" Arjun asked, smirking. "Even trash gets summoned when the bin overflows, huh?"
Shiv stared at him, silent.
Arjun stepped closer, his voice dropping into a mocking whisper. "Don't get any ideas. You showing up doesn't make you part of us again. You're still just a cracked egg from a golden nest."
He laughed loudly.
"…I'm still your brother," Shiv said quietly, eyes calm.
Arjun raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Shiv looked at him, something cold and unyielding behind his gaze.
"I'm still a Varma. And unlike you, I don't need anyone's permission to prove it."
Arjun blinked, then laughed again — but there was a sliver of unease in his voice now.
"Well then, brother," he said with a mocking bow, "try not to embarrass yourself in front of Father again. He might disown you publicly this time."
Shiv said nothing more. He walked past Arjun, the wind stirring the dust behind him.
As he stepped closer to the Grand Assembly Hall, he could already feel dozens of powerful auras gathered ahead — cousins, uncles, elite disciples, and clan guards. They stood in orderly rows before the Dais of Flame, where the Clan Head would soon appear.
Shiv exhaled deeply and stepped through the towering gate.
The eyes of the entire clan turned toward him.
Some narrowed. Some laughed. Some sneered.
But Shiv walked forward, spine straight, gaze unwavering.
"You think I'm the same as before?"
"Just wait. This time…"
"I will awaken as something greater than any of you ever imagined."
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