Chapter 15 Wrath
In the quiet recovery ward of the River Moon Society medical center, the steady, rhythmic hum of the monitoring arrays was the only sound. Rudra lay propped up against a stack of white pillows. Though his face was still pale and dark bruises ringed his wrists, his eyes were bright, and his breathing was stable.
The heavy door creaked open, and two familiar faces peeked in before stepping quietly into the room.
"I told you he'd be awake," Nitya whispered loudly to Karn, though she immediately walked over to the side of the bed. She set a large, heavy metal container on the bedside table with a soft clunk. "If a simple assassin could take you out, Rudra, our training sessions at the academy would be a complete waste of my time."
Rudra offered a weak but genuine smile. "It's good to see you too, Nitya. What's in the container?"
"Dumplings. The pork-and-cabbage ones from the market near the academy," she said, her tough exterior cracking just enough to show the deep worry she had carried since hearing about the attack. "You looked like a gentle breeze could blow you over. Eat."
Karn stepped forward, leaning against the bed rail. While Nitya hid her concern behind food and teasing, Karn's sharp, soul-sensitive eyes searched Rudra's face, relaxing only when he saw his friend's spirit remained undamaged. "We were worried, Rudra. When my mother told me what happened, I wanted to head straight out to look for the culprit."
"My mom and Lady Atmika are handling it," Rudra said, taking a warm dumpling from the container. "But thank you. Having you guys here... it makes the room feel less empty."
Before Karn could reply, the door swung open again.
Dhruv stood in the doorway. He was covered in the dust of the frontier road, his travel cloak stained, and his hair windswept. For a moment, the legendary "Unyielding Guardian" of Aryavarta looked incredibly human—his shoulders slumped, his face lined with raw, exhausting worry.
The moment Dhruv's eyes landed on his son, the stoic commander vanished. He crossed the room in three long strides, carefully but tightly wrapping his arms around Rudra.
"Rudra," Dhruv whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He held his son's shoulder, his hand trembling slightly. "I am so sorry, son. I should have been here. I should have returned sooner."
"Dad, I'm okay," Rudra said, hugging him back with his uninjured arm. "Mom got there in time. I managed to hold him off."
Dhruv pulled back, looking at the bruises on his son's wrists, his jaw tightening with a quiet, dangerous resolve. But when he looked up and saw Karn and Nitya standing respectfully by the window, his expression softened.
"Karn, Nitya," Dhruv said, his voice warm and filled with gratitude. "Thank you for being here. In times like this, a warrior's strength doesn't just come from his blade. It comes from the people who stand beside him. You kids are his strength."
Karn bowed politely. "We will always stand by him, Uncle Dhruv."
"Go on back to the academy for tonight," Dhruv said gently. "Rest up. I will take over from here."
The two teenagers nodded, giving Rudra a silent, reassuring wave before slipping out of the room, leaving the father and son to share a quiet, peaceful moment of reunion.
Later that evening, after Rudra had fallen back into a deep, healing sleep, Dhruv quietly left the room. His soft, paternal warmth evaporated, replaced by a cold, sharp focus as he made his way to a highly secured, soundproof briefing room in the basement of the council building.
Meera, Atmika, and Shikhanda were already waiting.
"How is he?" Meera asked immediately, stepping forward to clasp Dhruv's hand.
"He is strong. He is recovering," Dhruv replied, his voice flat. He turned his gaze toward Atmika and Shikhanda. "Now, tell me who did this."
Atmika stepped forward, her purple eyes serious. "The assassin was carrying a suicide seal. When I tried to search his mind, his soul core was forced to detonate. But before he died, I salvaged a single, clear fragment of memory. It was the mark of the Order of the Dark Age."
The moment the name left Atmika's lips, the temperature in the room spiked.
Shikhanda, who had been leaning silently against the wall, went completely rigid. A low, oppressive heat began to radiate from his body, the air around him shimmering with invisible waves of dry, blistering temperature. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table.
"They are back," Shikhanda spoke, his voice dangerously low, like the rumble of an active volcano. "Inside our capital. Inside the River Moon Society."
Years ago, Shikhanda had led the brutal campaign to purge the Order from the southern bases. He had seen the horrific mutations, the betrayed human soldiers, and the slaughtered innocents left in their wake. He had discarded his own mercy to burn their cells to ashes, a brutal necessity that had left deep, invisible scars on his own soul. He had hoped he would never have to unleash that merciless flame again.
"They have moles among our higher-ups," Meera said, her face grim. "The memory fragment Atmika salvaged pointed to a specific coordinate inside our security logistics office. The person who authorized the assassin's entry clearance was Captain Alok."
Dhruv's eyes hardened into flint. "We don't wait for a council meeting. We end this tonight."
"I'll handle the interrogation," Shikhanda said, his voice cold, though the heat radiating from him grew even more intense. "Alok will speak."
An hour past midnight, in the private, dimly lit office of the River Moon security headquarters, Captain Alok was reviewing supply manifests. He was a middle-aged, high-ranking officer who had served the federation for years—making him the perfect, unsuspected mole.
Suddenly, the lights in his office flickered and died.
Alok frowned, reaching for his communication device. "Control, this is Alok. We have a power fluctuations in Section—"
The air in the room suddenly became incredibly dry. The paper manifests on his desk began to curl and turn brown, singed by an invisible, suffocating heat. Alok's breath caught in his throat as the temperature soared, making it feel as if he were standing inside a blast furnace.
"Captain Alok," a voice spoke from the shadows.
Shikhanda stepped into the dim light. Behind him, Dhruv and Meera stood like silent judges, blocking the exit. Shikhanda's hand was resting lightly on the hilt of his weapon, but it was his eyes—burning like molten gold—that made Alok's blood run cold.
"L-Lord Shikhanda," Alok stammered, sweat immediately pouring down his face, evaporating almost as quickly as it formed. "What is the meaning of this? If there is an emergency—"
"The assassin you let into the River Moon Society is dead," Shikhanda said, taking a slow step forward. The wooden floorboards beneath his boots faintly charred with each step. "We know about the Order. And we know you authorized the clearance."
Alok's eyes widened in panic. His hand crept toward a hidden runic trigger beneath his desk—a fail-safe to alert his co-conspirators or detonate his own life-force.
Before his fingers could even touch the wood, a localized burst of intense, concentrated heat erupted over his hand.
"Agh!" Alok screamed, pulling his hand back as the air around his fingers scorched, his skin blistering instantly without a single flame actually touching him.
"Do not test my patience, Alok," Shikhanda spoke, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet whisper that vibrated with immense, destructive prana. He leaned over the desk, the heat radiating from his face so intense that Alok had to shield his eyes. "I know your soul carries a suicide seal. But my flame can incinerate your physical body and dissolve your spirit before that runic seal can even register the trigger to detonate. You will die in absolute agony, and nothing of your consciousness will remain to enter the cycle."
The psychological pressure was suffocating. Alok looked at Dhruv's cold, unyielding face, Meera's silent resolve, and the terrifying, god-like fury of the Inferno Lance standing before him. He realized there was no escape. The legendary protectors of Aryavarta were not bound by bureaucracy tonight.
"I... I was forced," Alok wept, his voice cracked from the dry, boiling air of the room. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his burned hand. "They threatened my family... they promised us evolution when the true gods arrive..."
"Names," Shikhanda demanded, his hand igniting with a small, brilliant spark of white-hot fire that hovered mere inches from Alok's face. "Give me the names of the others, or I burn your soul to ash right now."
Cowering in absolute terror, Alok broke. "The Director of Logistics... and the deputy commander of Base Five... they are the ones... they have the ledger..."
Dhruv stepped forward, placing a hand on Shikhanda's shoulder to signal him to hold back his flame. Meera immediately stepped in, her hands glowing with a soft, green sealing prana. With a swift tap to Alok's pressure points, she put him into a deep, forced sleep, locking his energy channels and preventing his internal suicide seal from triggering.
Shikhanda took a deep breath, drawing the intense heat back into his body, though his eyes remained bright with an angry fire.
"We have our first names," Dhruv said, looking at the sleeping traitor on the floor. "The cleanup of Aryavarta begins tonight."