The wind, once a howling torment, had softened to a low whistle as Nitin and Kapil began their journey eastward. The stark silence of the Pillow Lava City, once filled with the hum of raw power and the threat of unseen pursuers, was replaced by the rustle of dry grass and the distant cries of unseen raptors. Nitin walked beside Kapil, his strides still favoring the aches from his fall, the blue sword now secured in a simple sheath at his hip. The sword felt impossibly light, yet its presence was a constant, resonant hum against his skin, a reminder of the impossible power he now carried.
His mind, however, was a whirlwind of skepticism. "All of this," Nitin began, gesturing vaguely at the vast, desolate landscape, "the ancient cities, the glowing swords, the 'chosen ones'... it all happens in children's stories, not in reality." He had been a knight, grounded in the brutal, tangible truths of steel and strategy. This mystical nonsense felt alien, unsettling.
Kapil, whose composure remained unshakeable despite the gravity of their recent encounter, simply offered a calm, knowing smile. His gait was steady, unhurried, as if he walked a path he had known for centuries. "This story is true, Nitin. Every word of it." He glanced at the hilt of Nitin's sword. "And look at the weapon you have found. That, too, is a fact. A very real, very powerful fact that defies your 'reality'."
Nitin clenched his jaw. "Whatever it is, I don't believe in fairy tales. I believe in what I can see, what I can fight. And if someone is looking for the owners of these… relics," he added, a dismissive edge to his voice, "then let them come. We both, together, will defeat him." A flash of his knightly pride, however tarnished, resurfaced. He had faced impossible odds before.
Kapil stopped, turning fully to face Nitin. His gaze was steady, piercing, without judgment, but heavy with unspoken warning. "You are not ready yet, Nitin. Not for him." He paused, allowing the words to sink in. "If you cannot defeat me, then how can you possibly think that you can defeat him 'agent'?"
The challenge hung in the air, unexpected and stark. Nitin's eyes narrowed. "Why? Are you not strong?" He had felt Kapil's precise, almost effortless strike in the cave. He knew the man possessed a controlled power far beyond his own unrefined abilities.
Kapil's gaze softened, a hint of ancient sorrow entering his eyes. "I am strong, Nitin. Strong enough to guide you, strong enough to defend myself. But I am not even eighty percent of his strength. And he is merely an agent, a shadow of the true power that threatens us all."
Nitin's bravado crumbled, replaced by a cold dread. "After all, how can someone be so strong?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. The very idea was staggering, defying all his understanding of power. A being of such might, capable of overwhelming Kapil with such ease, was an existential threat.
"I don't know this properly," Kapil admitted, a rare note of uncertainty in his voice, "but whoever he is, you will have to work hard to defeat him. Far harder than you've ever imagined." He then glanced at the setting sun, painting the western sky in hues of fiery orange and deep violet. "Now it is quite late. Let's make camp. We will have to leave early tomorrow morning if we are to reach the temple in two days." The conversation, chilling in its implications, was paused, but its weight settled heavily on Nitin's shoulders, pressing him deeper into the impossible reality he now inhabited. The road ahead was long, and the foe, an unimaginable force of nature.
D.Nitin