Rehan scanned the dim portal before them, its swirling blue light calm and unthreatening. A C-rank Hell Gate, he thought. Easy pickings.
He had chosen this low-rank gate deliberately—quick clears meant more gems, less time wasted, and fewer chances for injury. High-rank gates could take days, weeks even, and the risk wasn't worth it. Today's goal was simple: clear the gate fast, stack the rewards, and move on.
With Rehan were his fellow hunters, Jassi and Tina—confident, cocky, and seasoned. Alongside them were Rivaan and three supporters: Mishra, Sharma, and Ananya, the healer. The group was an uneasy mix: hunters who thrived on battle, and supporters whose roles were vital but often belittled.
As the group stepped through, the portal's blue glow dimmed, revealing a sprawling cavern where goblin-like creatures scrambled from the shadows. Low-level monsters, eager to test their strength.
Rehan cracked his knuckles. "This'll be a walk in the park," he smirked, already drawing his sword.
Jassi chuckled. "Watch and learn, Satya. Supporters like you are just baggage."
Tina sneered, "Try not to get in the way while we clear these pests."
With swift, brutal precision, Rehan, Jassi, and Tina tore through the goblins. Their moves were fluid, aggressive—a dazzling display of skill. They laughed, exchanged jabs, and threw insults at Rivaan and the supporters as the monsters fell beneath their blades.
Rivaan kept his head down, supporting quietly—healing where needed, managing buffs—knowing their derision was as predictable as it was unfair.
But then, the air shifted. The cavern grew unnaturally still. The soft blue light of the gate flickered and shattered.
Suddenly, the swirling portal before them roared, transforming into an S-rank Dual Hell Gate, its color bleeding from calm blue to a terrifying blood red, pulsing like a living wound.
"No exit," a cold voice echoed through the chamber. "You must clear this gate. Defeat the boss, or perish trapped within forever."
Fear struck the hunters like a blade.
Rehan's face twisted in disbelief, then anger. He glared at Satya and the supporters. "If you had real power, we wouldn't be trapped in this nightmare!"
Jassi slammed his fist against a stone pillar. "Yeah! You dragged us into this mess, Satya. This was your choice—your weakness."
Rivaan's jaw clenched, but before he could respond, the ground trembled—and from the shadows, a dark, towering figure began to rise.
System Offline, Alone in the Abyss
Suddenly, Rivaan's vision flickered—his system UI vanished. Inventory icons disappeared; healing spells became impossible to cast.
His heart sank. The system was gone. The true trial had just begun.
The crimson glow of the gate faded as the group was thrust deeper into a massive spiral labyrinth—the Chakravyuha—a divine battlefield twisting and turning like the coils of a serpent. Jagged stone walls shimmered faintly with ancient runes, and the air buzzed with a deadly energy that seemed to pulse with malevolent life.
The first steps were deceptive; the path ahead seemed open, but the moment the hunters advanced, the gate revealed its cruel nature.
The Fall of the First Hunter
Rehan took point, ever the confident leader, blade gleaming under the dim light. But as he stepped forward, the air suddenly stiffened. From the jagged ceiling above, a bright, crackling bolt of divine energy descended like a spear—the Rudra Vighna Trap.
It was no ordinary trap.
The bolt wasn't a simple lightning strike but a targeted, intelligent weapon of the gods. The energy split the air with a terrifying hum as it homed in on Rehan's exact position. His instincts screamed to dodge, but the bolt moved faster than thought, striking his chest with the force of a battering ram.
His body convulsed violently, muscles spasming as raw energy tore through his flesh and bones. Blood sprayed like a fountain, splattering against the runed walls. Rehan's eyes widened in shock—the life draining from him too fast to process what had happened. His sword dropped with a clatter, echoing in the silent chamber.
He collapsed face-first on the stone floor, twitching once, twice—then still.
The silence that followed was thick, heavy—a grim reminder of the trap's lethality.
The Second Hunter's Last Stand
Jassi's confident grin faltered but didn't vanish. "I'll handle this," he said, stepping forward with a fierce growl.
Suddenly, the walls shimmered and warped, revealing massive, grotesque beasts—Rakshasa Dwarpalas, illusionary giants born from divine wrath.
Each was a towering nightmare, with claws like scythes and eyes burning with hatred. The beasts weren't merely illusions; they struck with deadly force, their attacks infused with spiritual energy.
Jassi charged, blade flashing, slicing through the air with reckless abandon. He dodged crushing blows and retaliated with furious strikes, but the beasts multiplied with every swing—illusions that seemed to spawn endlessly from the shadows.
His breath came in ragged gasps; sweat and blood dripped from his wounds. The monsters roared, surrounding him in a circle of death.
A powerful claw caught his leg, snapping bone with a sickening crack. Jassi screamed in pain and terror, the sound echoing through the labyrinth.
He struggled desperately, slashing wildly, but his strength waned.
Finally, a massive paw came down—a crushing blow that ended his screams and his life in an instant.
The beasts faded into mist, leaving behind only silence and Jassi's broken body.
The Third Hunter's Betrayal and Downfall
Tina's eyes flickered with panic—and something darker.
She had never trusted Satya or the supporters. Now, desperation twisted her thoughts. If the gate was a trap, maybe her only chance was to escape—alone.
As the others fought or fell, Tina slipped away, racing towards what she hoped was an exit.
But the Chakravyuha was no ordinary maze. It sensed betrayal.
Suddenly, a towering pillar of black stone erupted from the floor—Yama's Binding Pillar, forged by the god of death himself.
Chains of dark energy shot forth, wrapping around Tina's limbs with crushing force. She screamed, struggling to break free as the pillar's chains tightened like a vise.
"You cannot escape fate," a booming voice echoed through the spiral, ancient and merciless.
Tina struggled, tears streaming, panic flooding her mind. She screamed for help, but the labyrinth's magic was absolute.
With a terrible grinding sound, the pillar crushed her completely, bones shattering like dry twigs beneath an unstoppable force. Her screams were swallowed by the labyrinth's cold stone walls.
Then, silence.
Amid the chaos, Rivaan moved differently. No grand displays of power—only sharp calculation, patience, and deep inner focus. Rivaan wanted to help and tried to guide them, but they never listened to his words.
He watched the traps, studied the enemy illusions, calculated timing and distance with almost mechanical precision. Where others charged headlong, he used shadows, dodged just out of range, and predicted deadly patterns.
Every step was a cautious dance with death.
His strength was raw power, but also cold, clever survival.
When the gate changed, when hope seemed lost, Rivaan realized the horrifying truth:
This gate was forged to kill them.
Someone planned this...
Severely injured and alone, Rivaan crawled deeper into the labyrinth's core—a glowing, floating temple suspended at the spiral's center.
The Gatekeeper Revealed
As Rivaan entered, divine flames burst to life, forming a humanoid figure wreathed in burning radiance.
Oorja.
But she was no longer the gentle system guide. Her eyes blazed with divine fury, her form radiant yet terrifying.
"You grew under borrowed strength," she said, voice echoing like thunder. "To ascend, burn it all. Defeat me—if you dare. You can hide your identity from everyone, but you cannot hide from me, Satya."
Before Satya could answer, she moved with blinding speed, a divine blade flashing like lightning.
Satya barely dodged, breath caught in his throat.
"Why?" he gasped, staggering back. "You've supported me at every step... then why am I chosen? Why help me, only to fight me now? What is this story?"
Oorja's eyes softened for a moment, but the flames did not falter.
"This is your trial—to shed all reliance, to awaken true strength. You are no longer a pawn, Satya. You must rise alone." Then, Oorja raised his hand, eyes glowing like twin suns.
The air twisted around him as he whispered a spell, ancient and divine.
"May the heavens judge your worth. Sahasra Shoola Mahakaal!"
A glowing sigil burst to life above him—a thousand spectral daggers materialized mid-air, hovering in deadly silence.
Each blade shimmered with ethereal fire, their tips humming with divine judgment. The very air screamed as they launched all at once.
Satya's instincts kicked in. He leapt, dodged, spun—a blur of desperation and will. His training surged through every limb.
He dodged three, deflected five, slid under ten—but the storm was too vast.
One dagger pierced his shoulder, then another grazed his thigh.
A third slammed into his side, cracking ribs with a sickening crunch.
Blood sprayed across the floor like a red signature of his pain.
And then—one blade struck just above his heart.
His vision blurred. Sound faded. The pain was a thunderstorm trapped in his veins.
He collapsed to the ground—not in glory, but in silence.
On the other side of the battlefield, the remaining supporters—Mishra and Sharma—stood frozen. Their mouths hung open in disbelief.
And then Oorja spoke—his voice cold and cruel:
"You followed a child of prophecy... a backup flame the gods never meant to awaken. You were never supposed to live, Satya."
The revelation hit harder than any spell.
Ananya, the team's healer, gasped. Her eyes darted between Satya's broken body and Oorja's divine form.
"No... Not him... not like this…"
Despite being exhausted, her hands lit with healing energy—dim, flickering, unstable.
She had already used most of her divine mana healing the three fallen hunters—wasted effort.
But she didn't hesitate.
She sank to her knees beside Satya, her hands trembling over his chest.
"Come on... You're not dying here. Not like this. Not while I'm breathing."
She pushed her limits—summoning everything, tapping into the dangerous depths of her life force.
Blood dripped from her nose, her lips turned pale. Her skin glowed faintly gold—an omen of a healer reaching her final limit.
Satya's wounds began to close, slowly, stubbornly. The dagger that had pierced near his heart dissolved into golden mist.
But the price was heavy.
Ananya swayed. Her breath grew shallow. But before falling, she touched Rivaan's shoulder, pouring her last bit of healing into him.