NARAK: The Blood Covenant

The air above Naraya Dharma cracked like shattered mirrors dipped in firelight.

The eastern wing was gone obliterated in silence.

In its place stood a crater stitched with bone sigils and the stench of awakening.

And in the eye of that rupture, two figures clashed—

One, draped in godlight and purpose.

The other, forged in hatred and war.

Narayana, heir of Vishnu's Vessel, moved like poetry dipped in fury.

Six golden rings spun behind his back, each one humming with celestial equations and incantations too old for breath.

His palms radiated vow-fire—white and gold, truth-bound.

Across from him, the creature loomed.

Twice his height.Clad in calcified armor.Fangs like ivory spears.Eyes like black holes soaked in plague.

Hiranyaksha.

The Bone General.

"You fight with borrowed light," he growled.

"You lead with stolen echoes."

Narayana replied with silence.

And then punched the ground.

The entire battlefield exploded into radiant symbols that lunged at Hiranyaksha like leaping lions made of law.

Hiranyaksha roared twisting his claws, summoning a maelstrom of bone shards.

The glyphs met the storm mid-air.

Impact.

Sound vanished.

Then returned like thunder arriving late to its own funeral.

The clash lit up the ruins of Naraya Dharma like a second sun being born in the rubble.

[WHISPERED ARCHIVE]

Anata Dharma's face was stone.

He moved with urgency—not panic. But close.

The trio stood in a room that had started bleeding ink. Vicki had no idea what was happening. Nayla was calculating. Raka was unusually silent.

Anata held a glowing disc of parchment in his hand, rotating it mid-air with two fingers.

"You're going in."

"Into that?" Vicki asked, pointing at the ceiling where tremors echoed down like divine migraines.

"Yes."

"And you're staying here?"

"Obviously."

"WHY?!"

Anata shrugged.

"Because someone has to survive to file the obituary."

He spun the parchment once.

A glowing door began to form—sigils cascading upward like reverse-rain.

"You'll exit just behind the main breach zone. Close enough to help. Far enough to not die instantly."

"Appreciate the consideration," Raka muttered.

Then Anata turned to Nayla.

And for the first time, he actually looked at her.

Not with amusement.

Not with detachment.

But with respect and a drop of hope.

"You're the logic engine. The one who processes chaos into action."

"I'm the last sane person in this group, yeah," Nayla replied dryly.

"Which is why I'm giving this to you."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a silver rod no longer than a pen.

Sleek. Cold. Wrapped in whispering symbols.

"This is an Echo Core."

"It contains everything the Archive knows about Hiranyaksha."

"Biological structure. Sigil weaknesses. Tactical patterns. His poetry collection. Even his snack preference."

"...He has snacks?"

"Focus."

He placed it in her palm. The rod hissed and synced to her pulse.

"That's not a weapon," Vicki said.

"Information is a weapon," Anata replied. "The sharpest one."

Nayla blinked, visibly shaken by how fast it bonded with her.

"What happens if I lose it?"

"Then I hope you have good last words."

The Archive trembled again.

Time was up.

The door flared open fully.

Anata nodded toward it.

"Now go."

"What about the Ashen One?" Raka asked quietly.

Anata paused.

His voice dropped.

"If it wakes... run."

They stepped through the gate—And emerged in the crater.

Chaos hit them like a brick wall.

Heat. Wind. Light. Screams.

Narayana and Hiranyaksha collided overhead again, their strikes forming craters inside craters.

Dust rose. Bone flew.

And in the middle of that, Vicki, Nayla, and Raka stood on fractured earth.

Eyes wide.

Breaths shallow.

And from the distance Hiranyaksha turned slightly.

And noticed them.

"Mortals," he rumbled.

His voice fractured the air.

"One is unfinished flame."

His eyes passed over Vicki.

"One is fractured oath."

They landed on Raka.

"And one... is information incarnate."

He stared directly at Nayla.

"Perfect. I'll kill you in reverse order."

Hiranyaksha leapt.

Not jumped.

Leapt.

The kind of movement that defied gravity and logic and mercy.

His clawed hand tore through the earth where they had been standing milliseconds before.

"MOVE!" Nayla screamed.

Raka rolled to the left, Vicki to the right, and Nayla dove backward.

The crater cracked wider under the pressure.

And then—

"AVICI NARAK!"

Vicki shouted mid-air.

The sigil flared under his tongue.

And he changed.

[VESSEL SYNC: FLAME MODE – 1 HOUR ACTIVE]

The air shimmered.

Eyes red. Markings returned. His right hand burst into Oathfire, glowing like divine magma wrapped in wrath.

Avici was in.

"So we're fighting a bone warlord? Cute."

He looked at Hiranyaksha.

"Let me guess. You're the 'open the gate, unleash the ancient evil' kind of guy."

"I am his judgment," Hiranyaksha roared.

"Then consider this your audit," Avici smirked.

Avici charged.

Hiranyaksha's arm swung a wall of bone spikes erupted toward him.

Avici spun through it, igniting every edge as he passed.

"Vel'Kharra: Shredbone."

He whispered the name of the spell into his fist.

And punched through Hiranyaksha's left rib plate.

The Bone General staggered for half a second.

But only half.

He retaliated.

Claws swept low, Avici dodged the first, blocked the second with a flaming glyph, then got hit by the third.

Sent flying.

Crashing.

Skidding.

He stood up coughing.

"Note to self. Don't tank an ancient apocalypse."

Meanwhile—

Nayla's hands were glowing.

The Echo Core fed her real-time sigil data.

She saw Hiranyaksha's patterns, his weak points, his sigil lag, his counter-window.

"Vicki! Next time he sweeps, strike just below the sternum. There's a bone seam hidden in the plating."

"On it!"

Raka stood frozen.

Watching.

Heart pounding.

Not fear.

Recognition.

He saw Hiranyaksha's movement and his body moved before he thought.

He ducked.

Pivoted.

Blocked a side swing meant for Nayla—with his bare arm.

There was a spark.

Not fire.

Ash.

It shimmered over his skin like something waking up.

"Raka?" Nayla said.

"...I'm good," he muttered, breathing hard. "Just... weird muscle memory."

Avici landed beside him, eyes narrowing.

"You've done that before."

"Don't start."

"You know you're not just some sidekick, right?"

"AVICI—"

"You're burning under the wrong name, Arkana."

Raka froze.

So did the world, for half a second.

Then Hiranyaksha screamed.

The Bone General raised both arms.

And the place turned white.

Not with fire.

With bone.

"He's unleashing his domain," Avici said sharply.

"His what?!"

"Bone Womb. You don't want to be inside it."

The entire crater warped.

The sky tore open like paper dipped in ash.

And then—

A single, massive sigil formed behind Hiranyaksha.

The Mark of the Bone God.

"Kneel, mortals," Hiranyaksha roared.

"And I shall let your deaths be remembered."

Avici stepped forward.

"Nah."

He lit both arms in Oathflame.

"I've already been forgotten once. That's enough."

He turned to Nayla.

"Ready the core. I need a spell we can layer."

"On it."

He looked at Raka.

"You in?"

"Born for it."

They stood side by side.

A Vessel.

A Strategist.

A Forgotten Flame.

And a boy who might be something even older.

Hiranyaksha's domain pulsed outward.

A cathedral of bones formed in the sky, skulls fused into towers, ribs forming bridges, and pillars made of marrow grinding against time itself.

The Bone Womb.

A world where only the dead remember you.

The trio stood on fractured earth, staring up as the sky folded in reverse, becoming a cage of ivory.

"He's remaking the world," Avici growled. "One sigil at a time."

"How do we stop it?" Vicki asked.

"We don't."

"Great."

"We out-burn it."

A burst of light slammed into the Bone Womb from above.

Golden. Relentless.

Narayana descended in a spiral of divine rings, his arms glowing with sigils made from prayers forgotten by gods.

"I'm not dead yet," he said with a grin.

"About time," Avici muttered.

"I had to reinforce the northern barrier, your mess is leaking out."

"You're welcome."

Hiranyaksha growled, eyes narrowing.

"You return... again and again... pretending divinity."

"Not pretending," Narayana said, voice now reverberating with divine bloodline weight.

"I just don't enjoy monologues."

He slammed a sigil down, Verdict Light sliced into the marrow dome.

Nayla threw the Echo Core into the air, it expanded, spinning, projecting real-time rune maps of the Bone Womb.

"Strike the center vertebra! It's anchoring the domain!"

"I've got it," Avici growled, powering his body like a storm caged in fire.

They attacked in unison:

Narayana from above, divine light forming javelins that screamed when they pierced silence.

Nayla firing sigil disruptions that collapsed entire bone towers.

Avici, flames bursting from his veins, diving in low—

And Raka, in the center, watching everything like he'd done this before.

Because maybe he had.

In another life.

Hiranyaksha countered with apocalyptic grace.

"You are all... echoes."

"I am the original terror."

He spun once, the domain roared, bone snakes exploding from the walls, screeching, hunting.

They coiled toward Nayla.

"I got them!" Avici yelled.

But he wasn't fast enough.

Suddenly—Raka stepped forward.

Lifted one hand.

And snapped.

Ash burst from his palm in a shockwave.

The snakes dissolved midair.

Everyone turned.

Raka stared at his hand like it didn't belong to him.

"...What did I just do?"

Avici froze.

"That wasn't me."

Narayana's eyes widened.

"No…"

"That was him."

Hiranyaksha turned.

Snarled.

"No. You were dead."

"You were ash."

"You were... my failure."

Raka stepped forward slowly, eyes half-glazed.

The air around him burned cold.

A language he didn't remember slipped past his lips:

"Sabbe... sankhāra... anicca…"

The Bone Womb trembled.

"Sabbe sankhāra dukkhā…"

Hiranyaksha took a step back.

So did everyone else.

Even Avici.

Even the Archive Core inside Nayla started glitching.

"Sabbe dhammā anattā…"

Raka's body flared with white ash.

A second flame.

Ancient.

Unclaimed.

And then—His voice rang loud.

Clear.

Inevitable.

"ARKANA ARHAD."

The Bone Womb cracked.

Not the structure.

The concept.

And in that fracture—A shape stirred.

Buried.

Forgotten.

Unforgiven.

And waking.