The temple's heavy wooden doors creaked softly as Arjun pushed them open, stepping inside the quiet sanctuary bathed in the warm glow of flickering oil lamps. The thick scent of sandalwood and incense hung in the air, a sharp contrast to the harsh metallic tang of the ruined city outside. The space was simple but sacred — its worn stone walls covered with ancient carvings and fading murals telling stories of divine wrath and protection.
Arjun's eyes were drawn immediately to the small stone idol of Bajrangbali resting on the altar. The idol's orange tilak shone faintly, a gentle, pulsing light — a sign of the Hanuman's Resolve blessing now coursing through him. He knelt before it, laying both hands flat on the cool stone.
A deep calm settled over him. The blessing was subtle but profound — a quiet power anchored in strength and unyielding will. It filled his muscles with latent energy, his mind with focused clarity. He felt as if the great Hanuman himself was watching over him, reminding him that true strength was not just brute force but the resolve to protect and endure.
Arjun closed his eyes, breathing deeply, allowing the blessing to settle.
But strength alone won't win this war.
His thoughts flicked back to the grim realities he'd uncovered: the fake saint's grotesque abuses hidden beneath the mask of piety, the two murdered innocents, and the terror spread among those who sought sanctuary. Worse still, the knowledge that the saint's influence had trapped the mute man, Dhani's new ally, in cruel captivity.
This is no ordinary enemy, he thought grimly. This is corruption seeping into the very soul of this sanctuary.
He rose, pacing slowly in the dim light as the wheels in his mind began to turn, piecing together a plan.
Arjun's first priority was to secure more information — and that meant working carefully in the shadows. The mute man, though unable to speak, was his key. Dhani's elemental magic and Varun's traps could protect the man and extract subtle clues. Arjun made a mental note to meet with them both, to coordinate a careful extraction operation.
There was also the warehouse — the scene of the horrors. He needed to revisit it, searching for hidden evidence: documents, recordings, signs of the fake saint's transactions and followers. Every piece could be leverage.
Information was power. Power to dismantle the saint's grip.
Arjun knew well that brute force alone would not dismantle a cult. The fake saint's followers were a mix — some true believers, others cowed by fear or hungry for supplies. There were those still clinging to genuine faith, and those wavering on the edge.
The key was to identify the fractures within their ranks.
Using his growing reputation, Arjun planned to approach the more disillusioned followers quietly — offering hope and a way out. This meant gaining their trust by showing strength, compassion, and the will to protect.
He could not let hatred consume him — the blessing of Hanuman demanded restraint and justice.
Armed with intelligence and allies, Arjun planned a swift but surgical strike. The fake saint relied on fear and deception — stripping that away would expose him.
The strike would focus on rescuing those held captive, severing the supply lines the saint's faction depended on, and confronting the imposter directly, if possible.
Violence was a last resort, but if the sanctity of the temple and its innocent inhabitants was at stake, Arjun would act without hesitation.
As Arjun laid out this plan in his mind, another presence stirred within him — the whisper of a new divine power. The system's voice softly echoed in his thoughts:
"Divine Favor: Tier 1 blessing unlocked — Veerabhadra's Wrath. Physical attacks gain fire-elemental damage; increased strength by 20% during combat; resistances to poison and paralysis increased by 25%. Costs 500 Apocalypse Coins."
Arjun's eyes narrowed.
Veerabhadra — the fierce warrior god born from Shiva's rage — symbolized destruction of evil and protection of dharma. His blessing was perfect for this fight.
But such power comes at a cost, the system warned.
He felt the weight of responsibility, and the system's demand for a steep price in Apocalypse Coins.
Arjun flexed his fingers, feeling the ember-like fire smoldering beneath his skin.
This blessing could turn the tide.
He approached the altar again and bowed his head in silent prayer.
"Hanuman for strength to endure, Veerabhadra for the wrath to destroy," he whispered.
"I will not let this place fall to darkness."
Arjun's mind raced as he prepared for the coming days.
He would need to sharpen his senses, refine his combat skills, and maintain his resolve.
The fake saint was a dangerous adversary — cunning, cruel, and protected by blind devotion and fear.
But Arjun was no ordinary man.
He was a cop, a warrior, a chosen bearer of divine blessings in a world where gods and monsters now walked side by side.
With a final glance at the glowing idol, Arjun turned away, determination blazing in his eyes.
The battle for the soul of the sanctuary had begun.