Arya sat upon the throne, his fingers curling against its edges as if testing whether it was real. The cold weight of the metal crown sat heavy upon his head, a foreign thing that pressed against his scalp like an unwanted burden. Around him, the crowd roared, their voices rising in chants, their weapons clashing together in a rhythm of acceptance. Yet, beneath the deafening noise, he could hear his own heartbeat—steady, but uncertain.
He had fought for power, had clawed his way through blood and dust, but now that it sat in his hands, he wasn't sure if he wanted it. Could he even wield it? This throne was not built for him. It had belonged to Upendra, a man who had ruled through brute force and fear. Arya could fight, he could endure, but could he lead? His fingers tightened around the armrests. This was a world he barely understood, and now it demanded him to command it.
He lifted his gaze to the crowd—hundreds, maybe thousands of faces staring up at him. Some with admiration, others with doubt. The warriors of Upendra watched him with unreadable expressions. Would they obey him simply because he had won? Or were they waiting for him to fail? He knew how to survive a fight, but survival in this world would demand far more than skill with a sword.
His mind raced. There were forces beyond what he had ever imagined. He had seen the impossible. Ashvaraths, Kaalraths—beings that were once only myths to him—were real. What else lurked in the shadows of this world? What more was hidden from him? The thought sent shivers down his spine. A mixture of fear and curiosity burned in his chest. He was no longer just a fighter in a pit; he was in a position that demanded wisdom beyond his years.
Beside him, Raghav and Rudra stood silent. The twins, always brimming with ideas and schemes, found themselves uncharacteristically quiet. Their sharp minds, which had always worked ahead of any situation, were now frozen. They could steal, they could plan, they could escape, but ruling? Standing before a sea of people who expected something from them? That was an entirely different game. They had helped Arya rise, but now a question loomed over them—were they truly in power, or had they only placed themselves at the mercy of it? And more terrifyingly, what if Arya changed? What if power corrupted him, as it had so many before him?
Among the gathered warriors, the same uncertainty simmered. They had accepted Arya as their master, but only because the strongest had claimed victory. What did a seventeen-year-old know of ruling men hardened by war and bloodshed? Would he lead with wisdom, or would he fall like so many before him? Strength could win battles, but could it hold dominion over hearts and minds?
Arya felt their doubts. He felt his own. He wanted power, but not like this—not so suddenly, not so completely. The weight of expectation crushed him. There was no one to guide him, no master to teach him. He was alone at the top, with all eyes waiting for his next move. And if he failed? If he stumbled even once, this crowd would not hesitate to tear him down.
As he sat there, his thoughts spiraled. The world had always seemed cruel, an endless fight for survival. He had hated the powerful, the ones who sat above and dictated the fates of those beneath them. But now, he was one of them. He had cursed men like Upendra, yet here he was, wearing his crown. Was he truly different? Or was this the way of the world—an endless cycle where the powerful rose only to be consumed by the very power they sought?
Among the cheering masses, there were those who wept. The ones who had lost everything under Upendra's rule. To them, Arya was not just a new ruler—he was a chance at something different. Their hope clashed against the cynicism of the warriors, the merchants, and the thieves who saw him as just another pawn in a larger game. The world was watching, and it was a world that never forgave weakness.
His road ahead would not be easy. Every step he took would be met with resistance. Every choice would be questioned. He had fought to earn his place, but now, he would have to fight even harder to keep it. He had survived the pit. Now he had to survive the throne.