The smoke from the destroyed market still clung to the air as Arya, Tara, and Baba Kedar moved through the narrow alleys of Bhaktapur. The city was restless—shopkeepers whispered about lightning strikes from the sky, cultists were found burned beyond recognition, and many believed a wrathful god had walked among them that morning. Arya kept his head down beneath his hood, his mind swirling with fear and confusion. Every step he took made the trident mark on his palm throb like a heartbeat.
"We can't stay here," Tara said, her voice calm but urgent as she walked ahead, staff lightly tapping the stone ground. "The storm has already drawn more attention than we can handle."
"No kidding," Arya muttered. "Half the city probably thinks I'm possessed."
Baba Kedar grunted behind them. "They'd be half right. You've got a god's storm in you, boy. Power like that's like blood in the water—demons smell it from leagues away."
Arya shot him a glare. "That's comforting."
Kedar smirked, unfazed. "You asked."
Before Tara could respond, the sky darkened unnaturally. Clouds rolled in fast, blotting out the morning sun. A cold wind swept through the city, carrying a faint, foul stench that made Arya's stomach twist. The sound of chanting echoed faintly, deep and guttural, vibrating through the very stone beneath their feet.
Tara froze, her glowing eyes narrowing. "They're here…"
From the rooftops surrounding them, shadowy figures emerged, dozens of them, their bodies twisted and elongated, glowing crimson veins pulsing beneath blackened skin. At the center of the square ahead, a rift began to tear open in the air itself—a jagged wound leaking darkness that seemed to suck the light from its surroundings.
Baba Kedar's usual grin faded. "Damn… that's no ordinary cult. They've brought a general."
From the rift stepped a creature that made Arya's blood run cold.
The Rakshasa General towered above the others, its horned head scraping the edges of nearby buildings. Eight skeletal wings unfurled from its back, dripping shadow like tar. Its eyes glowed molten gold, and in its clawed hands, it dragged a massive chain that sparked with hellfire.
It inhaled deeply, the sound like boulders grinding together, and its gaze locked onto Arya. A guttural growl reverberated through the square, shaking loose dust from rooftops.
"There you are…" the General's voice rumbled like an earthquake. "Rudra's heir… weak… untempered… perfect prey."
The cultists fell to their knees, chanting feverishly. The rift behind the General widened, the ground cracking as demonic energy poured out.
Arya's legs stiffened in terror. His storm flared wildly, lightning crackling over his skin without control. "W-What the hell is that thing?"
"A hunter of kings," Baba Kedar said grimly, planting his staff in the ground. "Even Rudra himself nearly fell to one. This won't be easy."
Tara stepped forward, her staff glowing brighter than ever. Golden seals ignited beneath her feet, spreading outward like ripples of sunlight across the cobblestones. "We can't let it open a gate to Narak," she said. "If it succeeds, this city will drown in demons."
The General slammed its chain into the ground, shattering stone and sending a wave of black fire surging toward them. Arya barely had time to raise his arms before Tara's golden barrier flared, deflecting the flames. The force of the blast still threw Arya backward, his body skidding across the ground.
The Rakshasa General roared, the sound shaking windows and cracking walls. With terrifying speed for its size, it lunged forward, its chain whistling through the air toward Tara. She spun her staff, deflecting the first strike, but the sheer power sent her flying into a wall.
"Tara!" Arya shouted, stumbling to his feet.
The General's shadow fell over him as it loomed closer. "This power… belongs to Narak," it growled, raising its clawed hand. "I'll drag you there myself."
Arya's fear turned into something hotter, sharper. His body shook, lightning arcing violently around him as he screamed, thrusting his glowing palm toward the monster.
The storm exploded outward, a blast of pure energy that struck the General's chest and hurled it backward, cracking the ground where it landed. Sparks and blue fire danced across Arya's arms, pain searing his nerves like molten lead, but he didn't stop. Another bolt of lightning ripped from his hand, followed by another, each strike charring the General's wings and searing its shadowed flesh.
The beast roared in fury, chains lashing wildly as it charged again. Arya tried to summon another surge of power, but his vision blurred, his body trembling from exhaustion. The General swung its chain in a devastating arc aimed straight for him.
Before it hit, Baba Kedar slammed his staff into the ground with a guttural shout. Golden symbols erupted from the stone, forming a massive barrier that absorbed the blow with a deafening boom. "Boy!" Kedar bellowed. "Storms don't fear thunder—they become it! Stop running and strike like Rudra himself!"
Arya gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand despite the tremors in his legs. The General lunged again, claws outstretched. This time, Arya didn't retreat. He let the storm take him, lightning flaring brighter than before, his eyes glowing faintly as he roared back.
He met the General's clawed strike head-on, a blinding surge of divine lightning erupting from his body. The force sent the Rakshasa General crashing into the rift, which twisted violently before collapsing in on itself with a thunderous implosion.
When the dust settled, silence reigned.
The cultists had vanished with the closing of the rift. The General was gone. Arya fell to his knees, chest heaving, every muscle screaming in agony. Tara stumbled to him, bruised but alive, and knelt by his side.
"You held back Narak itself," she said softly, a rare note of admiration in her voice.
Arya laughed weakly, coughing through the exhaustion. "I… nearly died."
Baba Kedar offered him a hand, hauling him to his feet. "Get used to it, boy. That was just one general. There are legions waiting for you."
Arya's gaze drifted to the place where the rift had been, the cobblestones scorched black and cracked. For the first time, he realized this wasn't just about him anymore.
If the portal had opened fully, Bhaktapur would have burned.
And Narak would only keep trying.