The wind howled like a cursed spirit, tearing across the endless white silence. Ice cracked beneath steps older than memory, and above the jagged ridges of Himkanya, even the sun dared not shine too brightly. Through this frozen hellscape, a lone warrior walked. He did not shiver. He did not slow. His body was carved like war itself broad-chested, sinewed with muscle, every stride echoing command. Long, wild hair flowed crimson down his back, a banner of defiance against the world. His arms were wrapped in ancient red cloth from wrist to shoulder runes whispering in a language the wind refused to carry. No armor. No cloak. Only flesh. Flesh that defied frostbite. That dared the gods of cold to try him.
Behind him, trudging with quiet thunder, came a beast.Not a yak. A monster pretending to be one. Its horns curved like crescent blades dark and dense, humming with dormant force. Between them, tufts of wild red hair flared in the wind, almost mirroring its master. Ten times the size of any natural breed, the creature's every step cracked the ice beneath it not with weight, but with presence. The land around them was dead. Silent. They moved forward as if they are in search of something. Two monsters walking in land of Himkanya as a predators of night. After few miles of their walk they reached the cliff of mountain. Further no land. Valley so deep gives terrors of fear.
Two women, cloaked in desperate flame, stumbled backward on a field of cracked white, their torches trembling in frostbitten hands. The firelight flickered, but it wasn't enough. Not against them. Seven beasts ice bears, towering and twisted, their bodies crusted with frost, their eyes glowing with void. Each one a walking glacier, claws like frozen spears, fangs dripping with steam as their breath met the air. They encircled the women slowly, savoring the hunt. The women's faces were etched with terror, yet even in panic they looked celestial too radiant for this cursed land. Perhaps that was why the beasts wanted them.
And from afar, on a slope above, he watched. The warrior stood still, arms folded, gaze locked on the scene below. Beside him, Yama the crimson-tufted beast snorted, pawing at the snow, smelling the blood soon to be spilled. The warrior's voice was low, thoughtful."Seven beasts. Two flames. No chance." He glanced at his companion, almost amused. "Should I save them, Yama?" Yama stepped forward, slow and heavy, a growl rising from deep within a growl that spoke without words: Yes. The warrior held up a hand.
"Wait, buddy." The beast stops. "If they see you, they might lose all hope. You're not exactly… calming." Yama gave a low grunt and stepped back, obedient. As if those few words were law. The warrior exhaled. Then moved.With each step, the air grew denser, the wind quitter.
The women braced for the end. Seven beasts encircling them, growling with hungry thunder, eyes gleaming with primal frost. The torches in their trembling hands flickered like dying stars, lost in the vast whiteness of the cursed battlefield.
But then - From above.
A shadow broke through the falling snow. A figure descended not stumbled, descended from the mountain ridge like it was the most natural thing in the world. High above the ground. No hesitation. Just gravity and defiance. The warrior dropped like a crimson star. And then he landed. BOOM. The moment his boots kissed the icy ground, a ripple of dark violet energy burst out from beneath him. It didn't crack the land it corrupted it, twisted it with sheer presence. A circle of violet fog bloomed outward like a pulse, seeping through the snow like ink in water, thick and heavy… almost sentient.
The air changed. The ice bears paused. Their claws hovered mid-swipe. Their bloodlust wavered. The women gasped not in fear now, but in something else. Something unfamiliar. Dread. The fog touched them too. Cold, sure but laced with something deeper. Something cosmic. Their hearts pounded as the battlefield fell into silence, cloaked in that violet mist. And from within it… he emerged. One step. Then another. His boots crunched the frost like thunder. Tall. Calm. Unshaken. The dark red fabric wrapped around his arms fluttered gently, but not from the wind it was his aura breathing. His long crimson hair flowed like molten fire behind him, unbothered by the cold.
He walked through the fog like a ghost wearing human skin. His gaze fixed on the ice bears yet not with hate. With boredom. Then, within moments, he stood before the beasts and the girls between the devourers and the devoured. And he spoke. His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It was laced with quiet supremacy. "You damn wild beasts... Why are you attacking such beautiful girls, huh?" "They're not your food." The fog thickened around his feet like a loyal servant awaiting orders. The beasts growled, unsettled. And the women stunned stared at the man who had walked into death like it was a warm bath.
The snow stirred again. Not from warrior this time, but from movement. The largest of the seven bears their leader stepped forward. Massive. Towering. Its fur bristled like razors carved from ice itself. Claws as long as swords, dripping frost. Its snarl could freeze blood in veins. It charged. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. The ground trembled as it sprinted towards the warrior, claw raised, death in its eyes.
But the warrior... He didn't flinch. Instead he smiled. That wicked little curl of the lips that only devils and gods wear. And then, with a whisper that rang like commandment:
"Shadow Arrow: Pierce."
From the heavens above, the clouds split—no thunder, no flash just a fracture in reality.
And through it came an arrow not forged from metal, but from pure violet energy, condensed darkness in motion, trailing streams of shimmering shadow as it fell.
WHOOOSH—CRACK!
Before the bear's claw could ever reach the warrior, the arrow struck. Right through the beast's chest. No blood. No bones. No scream. Just... silence and then dissolution. The massive bear disintegrated into a spiral of black mist, atomized in a heartbeat, leaving behind not a single trace not even regret. The ground where it stood was marked only by a perfect black scorch, like reality itself had been scorched.
The other six bears froze. Their leader gone. Without a touch. Without a fight. They turned. They ran. But the warrior raised one hand, palm open like sealing fate itself.
"Shadow Sphere: Prison Crown."
The shadows around his boots twitched—then erupted. From beneath the fleeing beasts, dark orbs shot up six perfect shadow spheres like miniature voids tethered by violet lightning. Each sphere swallowed one bear mid-leap, wrapping around them like a predator far beyond their understanding. Inside those spheres, something happened. No sound escaped. No scream. No light.
Only pressure. The orbs shrank. Tighter and Tighter. Until pop they vanished. All six. No blood. No flesh. No howl. Just... dust on the ice. The battlefield returned to stillness. No more fog. No more monsters. Only him. And the two stunned girls, staring at the man who ended a nightmare without moving a step.
The wind had quieted. The battlefield was now nothing but shattered ice and ghost-silence. Warrior turned, his boots cracking the frost beneath as he faced the two women he'd just saved. But as their eyes met his something in them shook. His left eye it glowed. Not with light. But with darkness deep violet, swirling like a vortex from another world. The girl with the torch stumbled back in fear. The other clutched her arm, heart pounding. "Hey, hey no, no... I'm not your enemy. I'm not attacking you," he said quickly, almost apologetically. Then he caught his reflection in the shattered ice. "Tch... forgot again." He sighed, and gently brought his hand over his glowing left eye. "I really need to work on deactivating this thing," he muttered with a lopsided grin.
The violet light vanished. In an instant, the deathly aura lifted, and warrior looked... human. Still muscular. Still mysterious. But now, approachable. He extended a hand. The girls, cautiously, took it and rose to their feet.
"You both okay? That was a hell of a scene. What were you doing out here anyway?" His tone now? Easy. Casual. As if he'd just helped them find lost luggage, not saved their lives. The taller girl said faintly. "I... I think we're alright now." Then the one with the stronger presence stepped forward. "My name is Chandrika," she said, voice still a little shaken. "And today, you've done us a great kindness. We owe you our lives."
She hesitated, then asked softly, "May I know your name, warrior?" Warrior smiled.
"Vardha."
The second girl nodded. "Thank you, Vardha. We're truly grateful. But... where did you come from?" He tilted his head, almost teasingly. "Nowhere... and everywhere," he said. "I'm a wanderer. I just keep moving. That's all I do." The girls exchanged glances and gave a small nod of respect. "Well... we should be going," Chandrika said. "Once again thank you, Vardha."
They turned, walking into the soft snow, their footsteps quiet against the white. But after a few steps "Wait." The word cracked the silence like a whip. This voice wasn't the chill, charming traveler anymore. This was... the warrior. The girls paused, slowly turning. Vardha's face wasn't smiling now. Not quite serious. Not angry. But focused. Predatory. "You said your name was Chandrika, right?" he asked.
"Yes?" He stepped once toward them. Just one. "The last village said the next one was Chandraksha..." "You're not... from there, are you?" The wind stopped again. "You wouldn't happen to be headed back to Chandraksha, would you?" The girls looked at each other, unease creeping in. Chandrika's voice came out carefully. "I... yes. That's our village. But outsiders aren't allowed there. We're sorry, but... we can't take you with us." She tried to keep it polite. "You've done us a great kindness and for that, we are thankful. If you travel northeast, you'll find the borders of Sindhagiri. They may allow wanderers." They bowed lightly, and continued on their path.
Vardha didn't stop them. He just stood there... And smiled. Not the charming smile. Not the warm one. This was the other smile. The one that didn't reach his eyes. The one that spoke of... purpose. A death smile.
Unseen behind them, his violet eye pulsed once again. Then he began to move quietly. Stalking. Overhead, far above the icy cliffs, a shadow moved. Yama the great crimson yak was also heading toward Chandraksha following Vardha. Both moved as if this was always the plan. And neither Chandrika nor her friend had any idea... They were already being followed.
TO BE CONTINUED