The group gathers in the main hall of the monastery, standing before Jigen Shang, who holds a scroll etched with celestial symbols. The glow of candlelight dances across the ancient murals, and the Sword of Creation rests in a rack beside Jigen. His expression is solemn as he addresses the group.
Jigen Shang:
The powers you now wield are immense, but they are incomplete. Each of you has a sacred treasure, a relic forged by the gods themselves, waiting to be claimed. These treasures will not only amplify your abilities but also serve as symbols of your purpose in the coming battles.
He unfurls the scroll, and glowing marks of six locations appear across the cosmos.
Jigen Shang:
The treasures are scattered across the universe, hidden in places tied to their divine origins. You must each embark on your journey to find them, for without these relics, your powers are but half-realized. Aditya and Steve, you will remain here to refine your control, for your presence is critical to the balance of this world.
Jigen turns to Harshit, handing him a small, glowing orb.
Jigen Shang:
Harshit, your path leads to the Vault of Wisdom, hidden within a dying star in the Andromeda Cluster. There you will find the Medallion of Vedin, the lantern of clarity, a relic of boundless knowledge. Be warned, the star's collapse will test your mind and resolve.
The scene transitions to Harshit travelling in a starship, the fiery glow of a red giant star filling the cockpit. The camera opens with Harshit navigating the rugged terrain of a dying star's core. His starship rests precariously on a rocky outcrop, its exterior glowing faintly from the star's intense heat. In the distance, a shimmering cosmic veil appears, pulsing with blue-silver light.
He steps inside, his boots crunching against the unstable ground. The veil parts silently as he approaches, and the world around him transforms. The void of space gives way to a pocket dimension where Mindrasil stands in all its glory, its crystalline trunk spiralling upward and its branches extending through the cosmos. Glowing orbs hang from its branches like cosmic fruit, and its roots twist through the fabric of reality, disappearing into shimmering portals.
At the base of Mindrasil stands a spectral figure composed of swirling constellations, its form shifting like stars in motion. The Medallion of Clarity floats within the crystalline trunk just behind it, radiating a soft blue-silver glow.
Keeper of Memories (voice resonating): Welcome, seeker of wisdom. To claim the medallion, you must prove your intellect. Answer this riddle, or be cast adrift in the void of forgotten worlds.
Harshit (narrowing his eyes): Let's hear it.
The Keeper's voice echoes through the cosmic space as it poses its riddle.
Keeper of Memories: I have cities without houses, forests without trees, rivers without water, and oceans without seas. What am I?
Harshit furrows his brow,
Harshit: Cities without houses... forests without trees... rivers and oceans but no water... It has to be...
He snaps his fingers, a confident smirk on his face.
Harshit: A map. The answer is a map.
The spectral figure shimmers briefly, its constellation eyes glowing with approval.
Keeper of Memories: Correct. But wisdom is not just knowing the answer—it is understanding how knowledge connects to all things.
The Keeper dissipates into shimmering particles, revealing a second challenge. A massive neural pathway emerges among Mindrasil's roots, glowing pathways of light forming an intricate network. Harshit steps forward, his determination unwavering.
The pathways shift and pulse, forming a chaotic pattern. Harshit's hands move through the light streams, his eyes scanning the flowing symbols as he mutters calculations and theories under his breath.
Harshit: These pathways... they're memory streams from across the cosmos. If I align them according to their temporal signatures, following the flow through Mindrasil's roots, it should—
With a final gesture, the neural network locks into place, and the trunk of Mindrasil opens, revealing the medallion that floats toward him, landing gently in his hands. A surge of cosmic knowledge courses through him, and his mind expands, glowing runes and equations swirling around his body.
Harshit (awed): The wisdom of Vedin flows in me.....
Mindrasil's branches shimmer with approval, and the orbs pulse with increased intensity. The cosmic tree fades from view, leaving Harshit standing in the desolate core of the star, the Medallion of Clarity in his grip, his mind connected to Vedin. Screen fades to black.....
Jigen Shang:
Ashvin, your journey takes you to the Astral Rift, a plane between dimensions. There, the Cape of the Sorcerer Supreme and the Akashic Texts await you. But beware, the rift is home to spirits that will test your mastery of magic. Here this might be of use (hands over a grimoire)
Ashvin: Oh, Sweet!Finally, a real grimoire.
Ashvin uses ancient sigils to tear open a portal into the Astral Rift, a realm of shifting colours and floating islands.He draws a deep breath, his hands glowing faintly as he casts a spell to stabilise the portal in front of him.The camera shifts to Ashvin, standing at the edge of the Astral Rift. The sky is a kaleidoscope of swirling colors, and islands of floating rock drift aimlessly through the void.
Ashvin (muttering):
Alright, Akashic Texts. Let's see if you're worth risking my life for.
As Ashvin approaches, ghostly figures rise from the ground, their forms flickering like static. They hiss and rush toward him, their movements erratic and unpredictable.
Spirit (whispering):
Prove your will, mortal. Face the chaos of the rift.
Ashvin's hands move instinctively, summoning a magic circle that forms a protective barrier around him. He weaves intricate sigils in the air, his voice steady as he chants incantations.
Ashvin(opening grimiore):
You think I came unprepared? Let's see how you handle this.
He unleashes a barrage of spells, binding some spirits while dispelling others. The battle is intense, the rift itself seeming to warp in response to his magic. With the spirits subdued, Ashvin turns his attention to the Cape of the Sorcerer Supreme and the Akashic Textshovering, surrounded by a glowing barrier. Ancient runes spiral around it, their meaning just out of reach.
Ashvin (frowning):
This isn't just a barrier—it's a test.
He places his hands on the barrier, his mind racing as he deciphers the runes. Each symbol corresponds to a piece of forgotten magic, forcing him to rely on his newfound connection to the Akashic Texts.
Ashvin:
If I align these runes with the cape's energy field, it should...
The barrier shatters, and the cape floats toward him, draping itself over his shoulders. The Akashic Texts follow, opening in his hands as symbols light up on the pages.
Ashvin gasps as a surge of power floods his body, his eyes glowing with arcane light. Magic circles form around him, spinning and expanding as his mastery over the texts deepens.
Ashvin (amazed):
This... this is everything I've ever dreamed of.
Jigen Shang:
Shivam, the Wrathclaws lie within the Forge of Shattered Oaths. These gauntlets, forged in fury, will test your willpower. The fire that fuels them may consume you if your resolve falters.
The camera opens with Shivam standing at the entrance of the Forge of Shattered Oaths, a subterranean smithy carved into a blackened mountain, its jagged peaks scarred by ancient wars. Crimson flames roar from shattered altars, casting long shadows, while ash swirls in the air, and the ground trembles beneath his feet.
Shivam (grinning): Finally, a place that feels like home.
He descends into the forge, navigating shattered altars and dodging bursts of crimson flame that erupt from the cracked anvil at the center. The heat is unbearable for most, but Shivam seems invigorated, his brutal nature resonating with the environment.
At the heart of the forge lies a massive anvil, cracked and glowing with Ares' runes, surrounded by a ring of crimson flames. The Wrathclaws rest on its surface, their blackened iron gauntlets pulsing faintly, the red-orange claws shimmering with latent heat. As Shivam approaches, the flames surge violently, forming spectral warriors with ichor-dripping blades and hollow, fiery eyes.
Spectral Warrior (hissing): Only one who honors war's fury may wield these claws! Prove your worth, or be broken like the ones before you!
The spectral warrior charges, their ichor-dripping blades slashing through the ash, their strikes shaking the ground. Shivam dodges with speed and agility, his glowing eyes reflecting the warriors' fiery wrath.
Shivam (taunting): Is that all you've got? I've seen forge sparks more dangerous than you!
As the battle intensifies, Shivam channels his latent power, his fists crackling with red energy. He grapples a warrior, using a shattered altar to slam its head, his fists bloodied but unyielding.
Shivam (gritting his teeth): You think you're the only one who knows how to break things?
With a feral roar, Shivam tackles the warrior, delivering a series of crushing blows to its spectral form. The warrior begins to crack and falter, its fiery body dissipating into ash. With a final punch, it collapses into the flames, leaving the Wrathclaws glowing brightly on the anvil.
Shivam kneels at the anvil, a towering silhouette of fire and steel—Ares—manifests above him. The god's voice booms, "You failed once. You will not fail me again." The Wrathclaws rise, their blackened iron fusing with Shivam's flesh, the sigils burning and marking his skin, the red-orange claws flaring to life, runic inlays pulsing with divine energy. A surge of fiery power floods his body, his muscles tensing, his eyes burning brighter as the claws bind him to Ares' will.
Shivam (laughing): Now this is more like it.
The Wrathclaws' claws extend experimentally, their red-orange glow illuminating the forge as Shivam flexes his hands, feeling their heat. He smirks, the fiery aura around him growing stronger.
Shivam: Time to turn up the heat.