Kamal, Neelam, and Sanya were completely absorbed in the Mortal FoundationScripture. Their bodies had grown visibly firmer and more balanced; movements that once seemed clumsy now carried a quiet, anchored confidence.
When they stood still, there was a sense of weight and clarity around them—as if an invisible boundary separated their minds from the outside world.
Distractions slipped off that boundary like pebbles sliding down glass; noise, irritation, or sudden shocks could no longer daze them or shake their focus for long.
The aura they were cultivating was still invisible to the eye, but Solar Clone and Sacral Clone could feel it whenever the three walked past—a faint, stable pressure, like standing near a boulder that would not move no matter how the wind howled.
At the same time, the scripture was no longer easy. The later cycles demanded heavier loads, longer stances, and deeper breathing patterns that burned the lungs and muscles.
Many times, Kamal's legs trembled, Neelam's arms went numb, and Sanya's back screamed in protest.
Yet they persisted. They persisted because every meal they ate left their bodies slightly stronger than the day before, letting them lift weights that would once have crushed them.
They persisted because the healing cabinets erased their soreness and wounds, returning them to the next session with fresh strength instead of lingering pain.
Most of all, they persisted because when they looked around, they saw their entire family moving forward—Solar Clone grinding away at new Vyuhas, Sacral Clone wrestling with space element and never giving up.
In that kind of home, quitting felt more painful than any training.
That evening, Kamal lay on his bed, half‑stretching his aching legs while the television murmured in the background. He was only half listening—until a flashing headline made him sit up straight.
His expression tightened. "Solar, Sacral, come here for a moment!" he shouted, already reaching for the remote to turn up the volume.
A moment later he leaned out of his room. "Neelam, Sanya! You should see this too. It's about Essence Flow—what everyone else calls magic energy."
They gathered quickly, crowding into the room, eyes drawn to the scrolling red banner at the bottom of the news channel.
The anchor's voice was tense, a mix of excitement and fear, as images of laboratories, rocket launches, and glowing reactors filled the screen.
According to the report, the great nations, top institutions, and powerful individuals across the world had begun to uncover countless applications of magic energy.
They were feeding it into power grids instead of fossil fuels, using it to replace batteries, and even testing it as the main drive for experimental rocket engines.
Everyday technology was being rewritten line by line.
But the real storm in the broadcast was India. The anchor explained that intelligence leaks and satellite footage suggested India was developing a weapon based on Essence Flow—one said to be many times stronger than humanity's current most destructive arms.
Other nations had managed only unstable prototypes, yet India's project was already several stages ahead. That alone was enough to make the world nervous.
On the screen, representatives from various alliances and councils appeared one after another, demanding that India immediately halt all weapon development using magic energy.
Several major powers from the seven continents had already formed a loose alliance, issuing joint statements, resolutions, and thinly veiled threats.
They accused India of destabilising global security, even while quietly accelerating their own secret research on similar weapons.
"Hypocrites," Kamal muttered under his breath, watching one official condemn the project while another report in the corner mentioned that same country's "civilian" magic‑energy arsenal.
The news anchor continued: India, for its part, refused to stop. Government spokespeople argued that backing down now would mean handing the future to foreign powers who would not hesitate to use such weapons for dominance.
If they abandoned the project, their current lead would vanish, and those who caught up might one day turn that power against India itself.
Maps filled the screen, showing lines of alliances forming and hardening. Many countries had begun to team up to pressure India through sanctions and diplomatic isolation, while a smaller number openly declared support or quiet cooperation.
The anchors reported that several of the pressuring nations had started to talk about "collective action" and "final warnings," veiled phrases that sounded uncomfortably close to the word war.
The situation, the commentators said, was spiralling.
Everyone now understood that the first country to create a stable, controllable weapon based on magic energy would hold an overwhelming advantage—enough to dominate the battlefield, rewrite international law, and possibly rule the entire planet from the shadows.
And because of that, no one wanted anyone else to be first.