The air crackled with the lingering residue of Kaband's power, a sickening Odor of ozone and despair that clung to the shattered stones of the Sky Temple. Nitin, Deva, and Shakti regrouped, their bodies aching, their minds reeling from the overwhelming display of Kaband's might. Their weapons, usually vibrant and alive, pulsed weakly, as if recognizing the futility of their struggle against such an opponent. The initial shock had given way to a chilling realization: this enemy was on a different plane of existence.
Nitin, despite his pride, acknowledged the brutal truth. "We can't fight him," he rasped, his voice raw, his eyes fixed on the distant, shadowy figure of Kaband, who now stood surveying the damage he had wrought with calm indifference. "He's too strong." His elemental sword felt heavy, useless in the face of such absolute power.
Deva, his corrupted arm pulsing with a faint, violet light, stumbled, catching himself on his spear. He gritted his teeth through the pain. "And he… he just took a direct elemental blast from you, Nitin. He walked through my gravity well like it wasn't there. Nothing landed. He's… untouchable." The corruption on his arm was spreading, a cold, creeping numbness.
Shakti, still trembling from the raw energy drain of his/her desperate teleportation, muttered, "My illusions were useless. He saw right through them. And his speed… impossible." A profound sense of defeat settled over the trio, a bitter pill to swallow after years of relentless training and recent successes.
As if to punctuate their despair, one of Kaband's cloaked agents, previously thought defeated, stirred. Nitin, fuelled by a surge of renewed fury, lunged, channelling a concentrated burst of fire directly at its chest. The fire seared, enveloping the agent in a blinding inferno. But as the flames died down, the figure remained, its form regenerating, coalescing from the ash, the wound closing as if it had never been. The eyes, twin points of malevolent light, fixed on Nitin with a chilling, knowing gaze.
"They… they regenerate!" Nitin gasped, the word ripped from him, stark terror replacing his anger. "He can't be killed!" The realization was like a physical blow, colder and more paralyzing than any attack. Kaband's voice echoed in their minds again, clearer now, triumphant: "My life is not bound by your petty concepts of mortality, little ones. Isha has granted me eternity, for a purpose. A purpose you cannot hope to stop."
At that moment, the ground beneath them trembled violently. A massive, corrupted root, thick as an ancient tree trunk, burst from the earth, tipped with razor-sharp claws. It wasn't a random attack; it was aimed directly at the last remaining Sky Temple Guardian, a wizened elder who had been desperately trying to maintain a protective ward. The elder, exhausted from the siege, could not react in time.
"No!" Nitin roared, a primal scream of desperation. He launched himself forward, channelling the last of his elemental energy into a protective shield, hoping to deflect the blow. But he was too slow, too drained.
Suddenly, a figure appeared, a blur of motion. It was Kapil. He had arrived with a small reinforcement party from the Institution, tracking the escalating energy signatures. He saw the root, saw the elder, saw Nitin's desperate lunge. Without hesitation, Kapil threw himself in front of the elder, manifesting a shimmering force field, thin but resilient. The corrupted root slammed into it with terrifying force. The force field held for a moment, shimmering violently, groaning under the immense pressure. But then, with a deafening crack, it shattered. The root, its momentum barely slowed, pierced Kapil's side with brutal force.
Kapil gasped, his body arching, blood blossoming on his robes, but his eyes remained fixed on the elder, a grim satisfaction mixed with profound pain. "Protect… the Temple…" he whispered, before collapsing, his body limp.
Nitin, frozen in horror, watched as Kapil fell. His mentor, his friend, the man who had guided him into this impossible world, sacrificed himself. This was the true cost of Kaband's power, the price of his immortality. Rage, cold and pure, surged through Nitin, eclipsing all fear. But it was a rage born of desperation, not strength.
"Retreat!" Guru Brahman's voice, amplified by subtle magic, echoed from a hovering Institutional aircraft that had just arrived, piloted by Arya and Rishi. "You cannot defeat him now! Kapil's sacrifice must not be in vain!"
The order was sharp, undeniable. With heavy hearts, the heroes dragged Kapil's unconscious form onto the aircraft. Deva, using the last of his energy, created a temporary gravitational barrier to slow Kaband's advancing agents. Shakti, with a final, desperate illusion, created a swirling vortex of blinding light and phantom movements to cover their escape. As the aircraft soared away, leaving the besieged Sky Temple and the silent, triumphant form of Kaband behind, the reality of their defeat crashed down on them. They were alive, but at a terrible cost. Kaband was not merely a powerful foe; he was an immortal, unrelenting force, and he had claimed his first, devastating victory. The heroes returned to the Institution, humbled, wounded, and burdened by a new, profound understanding of the relentless enemy they faced.