The sky above the Varma Clan's arena roared with the sound of gathering crowds. The third round of the Agni-Kṣetra was about to begin — the final proving ground where strength would be decided in battle.
Shiv stepped onto the stone arena, his newly awakened energy simmering beneath the surface. In his hand, the Dark Fury Staff glinted under the midday sun, etched with Nāga runes that shimmered faintly with crimson light.
An elder in gold robes raised his hand and addressed the clan.
"Due to a new decision by the council," he announced with a falsely pleasant smile, "the final round shall be a free-for-all. All remaining contestants will enter the field at once. The last one standing will be crowned the victor."
A quiet murmur passed through the crowd.
Shiv narrowed his eyes.
'A free-for-all? They changed the format now, of all times?'
From his elevated seat, the Family Head, Mahādev Varma, watched silently. His expression unreadable, but his eyes lingered on Shiv. He said nothing — offering neither protection nor protest.
'So even he wants to see what I'll do,' Shiv thought grimly.
One of the cousins snickered nearby.
"Looks like they're feeding the trash to the lions."
Another whispered, "Let's get rid of him first. He's a threat now."
The bell rang.
The match had begun.
Four contestants lunged at Shiv — coordinated, ruthless. Among them were two spear-wielders and one with twin chakrams. The fourth, a girl with wind-step technique, aimed to blindside him from behind.
But Shiv had waited for this.
With a roar, he spun the Dark Fury Staff, channeling his Mulādhāra Prāṇa through it — and a burst of red-black force erupted in a circle around him. The staff struck like lightning, crushing one opponent's chestplate and hurling another across the arena.
One... two... three...
He ducked low, sweeping the staff under the final ambusher's legs and knocking her unconscious before she even hit the ground.
Only four fighters remained.
Devraj. Arjun. Yash. Raghav.
The crowd quieted as the atmosphere thickened.
Arjun smirked. "Didn't think you'd make it this far, Shiv. But now the real fight begins."
Devraj nodded, but his eyes were colder. "Don't misunderstand. We still see you as a failure. One chakra... and yet you dare to aim for the heir's seat?"
Raghav added, "Let's end his delusion."
The three circled him.
Shiv steadied his breath.
'I can't overpower them head-on. But I can make them break formation.'
Yash lunged first, flame dancing from his palm. Shiv parried with the staff, then spun behind him and slammed the end of it into his back. Yash fell unconscious.
Three remained.
Arjun charged with his blade, weaving chakra into wind slashes. Shiv blocked the first, dodged the second — and caught the third with his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the pain.
Devraj used the opening to leap at Shiv with a reinforced punch. Shiv reacted — channeling a sliver of Nāga-Tejas into the staff — and caught Devraj mid-air with an upward strike that cracked the boy's ribs and sent him flying.
Arjun and Shiv locked eyes.
Then they clashed.
Steel met obsidian. Prāṇa met fury.
Shiv twisted low, staff sweeping for Arjun's legs — blocked. Arjun countered with a series of wind-enhanced thrusts — Shiv deflected the first, ducked the second, then slammed the blunt end of his weapon into Arjun's gut.
The crowd gasped as Arjun dropped to one knee.
"Still think I'm trash?" Shiv growled.
Arjun spat blood and smiled. "You're not... trash. But you're still not ready to carry this clan."
"I don't need your approval," Shiv replied coldly — and struck him unconscious with one final blow.
Silence fell.
Every elder, every cousin, even the spectators, stared in stunned disbelief.
Mahādev Varma slowly rose from his throne-like seat. A thin smile — cold, but not without pride — touched his lips.
"The victor of this year's Agni-Kṣetra," he announced, voice echoing across the arena, "is Shiv Varma."
A mix of awe and outrage swept through the crowd.
"And as promised... he shall be named the Heir during the Martial Arts Festival — where all great families gather and the world's eyes turn to us. His name... shall not be hidden any longer."
Shiv breathed heavily, body bruised and aching — but he stood tall.
Then Mahādev Varma added, "Shiv. Come to the palace. Two hours from now. Alone."
Shiv nodded, still gripping the staff tightly.
As he walked off the field, the whispers continued.
"Is this really happening?"
"He beat Arjun and Devraj... like that?"
"Maybe... he was never weak to begin with."
But Shiv ignored them.
The fire in him had only just begun to burn.
And he would soon learn the truth behind power, legacy — and the cost of bearing the Varma name.
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