The sun dipped low behind the mountains when the grand spires of Bharadwaj Academy finally came into view. From afar it looked like a small city carved into the base of the Mountain of Life, its white stone towers shining faintly with golden runes that pulsed like living veins. The wind that came from those heights carried the scent of herbs, steel, and paper — the smell of study, discipline, and battle.
Ansh was the first to lean out of the carriage, eyes wide.
"We're home!" he shouted, nearly falling out.
Daav screeched happily, flaring his wings in excitement.
Ashwini sighed, tugging him back by the collar. "Try not to die before the tournament, will you?"
Vijay smiled faintly. "You know him. That's asking too much."
The academy gates opened with a deep rumble, the carved sigil of the Bharadwaj Tribe glowing as they passed through. Students bustled everywhere — some carrying scrolls, others sparring in open courtyards where the sound of magic clashing filled the air.
Ansh's eyes sparkled. "Whoa… it's even louder than before."
Ashwini's gaze softened. "It feels… alive again."
Even Vijay looked impressed. "Guess eleven months away really changes what home feels like."
Rajyugas, walking ahead, said nothing. But his faint nod showed a rare trace of approval.
The next few days blurred into motion. Each of them had one thought: the tournament.
Ansh spent hours in the training field, swinging his sword until his arms went numb. Daav fluttered beside him, chirping advice like a tiny coach.
"Slash, not chop!" Ansh muttered, mimicking Rajyugas's voice and earning a squawk from Daav. "Yeah, yeah, I'm trying!"
He tripped twice, broke one practice dummy, and accidentally set another on fire — but each day his footwork grew steadier, his timing sharper.
Ashwini practiced beside the herb gardens, focusing on channeling life through the smallest sprouts. Sweat ran down her face, but she smiled when green light bloomed across her fingertips.
Vijay, as always, trained in silence. Streams of water circled him, blades of air danced at his side, and faint tongues of flame flickered between his palms. He still couldn't merge them perfectly — each element pushed the other away — but even that unstable balance had its own kind of strength.
At night, the three of them would sit by the fountain, exhausted but laughing. Sometimes Ansh would brag about how he'd win the tournament. Other times Ashwini would scold him for being overconfident. And Vijay — he'd just smirk and say, "I'll enjoy watching you try."
Three days later, the academy bells rang across the mountain. The Marshal Tournament had begun.
Banners of silver and gold rippled over the towers. Thousands of students gathered, their cheers echoing through the halls. The scent of excitement mixed with the thrum of magic — energy filled the air like a living storm.
Ansh, standing in the crowd, could barely keep still. "This is it, Daav! The big day!"
Daav chirped proudly, wings flaming brighter.
Ashwini rolled her eyes but smiled. "Just try not to burn the arena this time."
Vijay exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. "Focus. Remember what Rajyugas said — the real battle isn't just strength. It's control."
Ansh nodded… mostly. "Control. Right. After I win."
Ashwini groaned.
The Bharadwaj Academy
To any outsider, Bharadwaj Academy was more than a school — it was the beating heart of the Bharadwaj Tribe, spread across thousands of kilometres, reaching villages, cities, and even frontier outposts. Dozens of subsidiary academies sent their best here. The main academy was a world of its own — half fortress, half temple, built where sky touched mountain and rivers coiled like silver serpents below.
Only the finest reached this place.
There were three main paths of entry:
Accepted by a Teacher — those personally chosen by a master became their disciples, bound by honor and instruction.
Top 1 Percent of Subsidiaries — the brightest of the smaller academies earned promotion to the main halls through relentless testing.
Challenge and Replace — anyone brave enough could challenge an existing student. If they won, they took their place.
And there was one rarer way, almost unheard of: Direct Acceptance as a Disciple by the ruling families — the Seven Council Members, Guruwar the Advisor, or Rudradev, leader of the tribe himself. Those chosen by them were said to walk a path destined for greatness or ruin.
The Hierarchy
The academy had three great ranks of learners:
Learners — the lowest but most numerous. They handled academic duties, copied scrolls, cared for the grounds. In return, they received resources and lessons, a chance to rise higher.
Students — a step above, they no longer performed staff duties. Their role was to teach the learners basic magic, complete mandatory annual missions, and train in official classes.
Disciples — the chosen few. Each disciple served directly under a teacher, learning their arts and following only their commands. They carried no academy duties — their loyalty lay entirely with their master.
The Spirit of the Tournament
The Marshal Tournament existed to prove one's right to advance. Learners could earn the title of student; students could be seen by teachers and perhaps chosen as disciples.
Every match was watched closely. Victories were remembered. Defeats were lessons carved in stone.
Ansh, Ashwini, and Vijay stood now among hundreds who had survived the first year's brutal training. Their names weren't yet known — but Rajyugas's students were always noticed.
The trio stood outside the great arena as the wind howled from the mountain peaks.
Ansh adjusted his sword nervously. "So, uh… any chance this is just a friendly competition?"
Ashwini raised a brow. "You really think Rajyugas would call something 'friendly'?"
He winced. "Right. So, we're doomed."
Vijay chuckled quietly. "Not doomed. Tested."
Daav chirped once, as if agreeing with both of them.
From the highest tower, Rajyugas's figure could already be seen overlooking the field — silent, unmoving, a reminder that this was not just a tournament. It was judgment.
Ansh swallowed, then grinned suddenly. "Alright then… let's give him a show."
The bells rang again, echoing through the mountains.
The gates opened.
Their next trial began.