The rain had stopped, but the forest still glistened as though the heavens had just washed it clean. Droplets clung to the leaves, catching the faint glow of dawn. Arjun walked in silence, his footsteps muffled against the damp earth. His mind, however, was anything but quiet.
For days now, whispers had spread among his followers. Whispers of a hidden force watching them. Hunters from rival tribes claimed they had seen shadowy figures flitting between the trees—never striking, never speaking, only watching. Even Veer, once fearless to the point of recklessness, admitted that he felt unseen eyes on them at night.
"Vakya," Arjun finally murmured under his breath, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "What is it that follows us?"
The familiar voice of the system stirred, carrying with it a resonance like a temple bell struck in the distance.
"What follows you is not mere enemy nor friend. It is the Hand that seeks balance. The threads of destiny are being pulled tighter, Arjun, and not all forces wish to see you rise."
Arjun frowned. "Balance? Do you mean the gods themselves?"
There was a pause. "Not gods. Nor demons. Something in between. They are called The Unseen Hand. They do not interfere often. But when the world begins to tilt too heavily toward chaos—or toward order—they act."
Arjun's jaw tightened. "And they think I am tilting the world?"
"Your rise is not a small thing. Tribes uniting, wars stirring, systems awakening… You are no longer just an orphan, Arjun. You are becoming a fulcrum. A single misstep, and the world may tip into a storm that no one can control."
The words settled heavy in his chest. For the first time, he wondered if his victories had drawn too much light toward himself, like a moth inviting the flames.
That night, as the campfires burned low, Arjun sat apart from the others. His warriors laughed and shared food, but even their joy seemed thinner, restrained. The unease was spreading like frost.
Then it happened.
A gust of wind swept through the camp, extinguishing half the fires in an instant. The laughter died. Every warrior reached for his weapon.
From the darkness, figures emerged—neither tribal nor beast. They wore cloaks that shimmered faintly, their faces hidden behind masks that seemed carved from bone. They moved in silence, surrounding the camp in a perfect circle.
One stepped forward, taller than the rest, and spoke in a voice that was neither male nor female.
"You walk a dangerous path, Arjun."
Arjun rose, his blade glinting. "If you've come to kill me, then stop hiding behind riddles."
The masked figure tilted its head slightly. "Kill you? No. If we wanted you dead, you would not be standing. We are the Hand that guides balance. You are tilting the scale too quickly."
The words chilled even the bravest among his warriors. Veer spat on the ground. "Balance? The world is already broken! Arjun is fixing it!"
The figure's gaze turned toward him, and though its eyes were hidden, Veer stumbled back, suddenly pale.
Arjun stepped forward, shielding his men. "If the world is broken, then it needs to be remade. Balance means nothing if people still starve, if tribes still kill each other for scraps of land. If that threatens you, then stand in my way. But do not think I will stop."
The silence that followed was heavy. Then, slowly, the figure raised its hand.
"Your defiance is noted. But remember this, Arjun: every rise demands a fall. When the time comes, and the weight of what you carry becomes too much, the Hand will return. And if you have not learned balance by then… we will cut the thread ourselves."
And just like that, the figures stepped back. One blink—and they were gone, as though the forest had swallowed them whole.
The camp remained frozen in silence. Then, finally, Veer whispered, "They were… not human."
Arjun sheathed his blade, his heart still pounding. "No. They were something else. And they will come again."
As dawn broke fully, the forest seemed almost normal again. Birds sang, the sky cleared. But the words of the Unseen Hand echoed in Arjun's mind.
Every rise demands a fall.
And for the first time, Arjun wondered: was Vakya his strength… or the very weight that would pull him into that fall?