The battlefield was breathing.
Not literally — but the way the air pulsed, the sand swirled, the heat shimmered — it felt alive. It was as if the land itself knew that something monstrous was about to unfold.
The sky was molten gold, but the sun held no warmth — only the pressure of war. A lone hawk cried in the distance before disappearing beyond the cliffs. Silence followed.
Then—
BOOM.
A foot slammed into the cracked ground, stirring a wave of dust.
From one side stood two silhouettes, framed by the glowing haze like war gods painted in fire.
Musa — shoulders broad like ancient walls, eyes flickering with volts of unspoken violence. His arms had etched veins that sparked and pulsed, his knuckles crackling with dormant thunder. Every breath he took made the air tremble slightly, as if nature feared waking his wrath.
Ehtesham — quiet but menacing, his gaze sharp as a needle dipped in black lightning. His cloak floated slightly, as if suspended by unseen magnetic fields. His fingers were stained with arcane runes, twitching like they were alive, hungry to command chaos.
They stood like statues of devastation — motionless, unblinking, untouchable.
And then, there was him.
Across the dust-laced distance… stood Sahil.
He wasn't as large. His armor wasn't glowing. His arms didn't buzz with divine voltage.
But his eyes—
His eyes were flames of rebellion.
Burning.
Defiant.
Unbreakable.
His chest heaved as if he had sprinted through memory and nightmare to arrive here. Each drop of sweat that slid from his temple shimmered like liquid steel under the sun. His breath steamed even in the heat.
A wind coiled around his feet.
Sahil (gritting his teeth):
"This time... I will NOT lose."
His voice didn't echo — it pierced. Like a blade driven straight into the heart of fate itself.
Musa tilted his head and chuckled.
Musa:
"Still dreaming, little gust? You lost to us before. You should've stayed buried."
Ehtesham let out a dry laugh, one eye glowing silver.
Ehtesham:
"And you've come back with nothing but… wind?"
They didn't take him seriously. Not yet. Not until—
FWOOOOOOM!
The air beneath Sahil's boots howled.
His hands flared outward, and with a deafening roar, the Wind Vacuole exploded into existence. A furious cyclone spun into the sky behind him — a swirling column of compressed air sharpened to blade-edge precision.
It wasn't just wind — it was vengeance carved by nature.
WHHRRROOOMM—!!
The ground cracked and peeled away as the cyclone surged forward, a moving wall of screeching gusts and debris. Twisters of compressed air spun around its core, threatening to tear flesh from bone, metal from soul.
Musa raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping in.
Musa:
"Now we're talking."
With a single twist of his wrist, he summoned three orbs of glowing electricity, each spinning faster than sound.
Magnetic Shuriken.
Each disc screamed through the air like a banshee, trailing streaks of blue lightning that snapped the clouds themselves. They weren't just thrown — they locked onto Sahil's pressure field.
Home-seeking death.
Meanwhile, Ehtesham stepped forward and brought both hands together in a prayer-like seal. Light shimmered into existence between his fingers.
Magic Kunjiken.
Twin blades emerged — each forged from condensed magical threads, purple with streaks of gold, humming with ancient language. They floated midair for a second before shooting out like comets, heatless and silent — the most lethal kind.
CRAAAASH!!!
The attacks clashed with the Wind Vacuole mid-air.
Lightning and magic met air and will.
The sound was indescribable — not thunder, not wind — something more primal. A scream from the planet's lungs.
Sand rose in a mushroom cloud.
Energy detonated in concentric ripples.
The wind turned black from pressure burns.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Sahil was already moving. Or rather—
He became motion.
Every muscle, trained to its edge. Every step — fluid.
His cloak billowed like a torn flag as he dashed through the destruction, dodging each magnetic disc by centimeters. One grazed his cheek — a burning arc seared his skin.
But he didn't flinch.
He didn't stop.
He shifted.
The air twisted around him, becoming one with his breath, his blood, his thoughts.
Wind Transformation.
And then—
He vanished.
To the untrained eye, he had simply disappeared — dissipated like mist.
But to Musa and Ehtesham —
They felt it.
A chill swept behind Ehtesham — and then a line of blood bloomed across his upper arm. So fast, so clean, he didn't even register it until the pain struck like a needle dipped in fire.
"Ghh—!"
He staggered.
Behind him, Sahil shimmered back into form — eyes narrow, breath calm, hands outstretched like a dancer of the storm.
Ehtesham (angrily):
"You—!"
But there was no time.
Musa's boots slammed into the ground, a growl vibrating from his throat.
Musa:
"Enough. You want real power? I'll give you a storm you'll never forget."
He threw both hands into the sky and then slammed them down.
The air collapsed inward.
The wind died.
Silence.
Then—
YOUTH ELECTRIC BACK.
From Musa's spine to the sky, arcs of lightning burst outward like roots of a divine tree. The sky itself turned violet-blue, the color of fury.
Billions of micro-electric pulses detonated into the atmosphere.
They weren't just bolts — they were electrical nerves crawling through the air.
Sahil tried to move—
But he couldn't.
The pulses didn't shock — they invaded. They surged into his body like viruses made of thunder, short-circuiting his nerves.
His left arm twitched uncontrollably.
His fingers bent backward.
His shoulders spasmed.
He screamed.
The wind around him shattered — the transformation collapsed.
Sahil fell to one knee, eyes wide in pain. His left arm hung uselessly. Smoke rose from his shoulder where a pulse had branded skin.
But—
His right hand still gripped the air.
And his eyes still burned.
A silence fell — heavy, unbearable.
Sahil remained on one knee, the wind around him no longer dancing. His left arm was dead weight. Ash clung to his skin, and his heartbeat drummed in his ears like a war cry muffled beneath water.
But he didn't collapse.
He couldn't.
Because in the flames of pain, a memory surfaced —
A voice.
A face.
A promise.
---
[Flashback: Sahil & Harun — The Oath Beneath the Moon]
It was a quiet night. The moon hung like a white scar in the sky.
Sahil and Harun sat on a rooftop, legs dangling into the cold air. No battles. No storms. Just two warriors beneath the stars.
Harun (smiling):
"If one of us falls… the other fights harder."
Sahil:
"You think I'll let you fall?"
Harun:
"Doesn't matter. If I do, you carry my fire, Sahil. You don't stop. You don't lose."
Sahil looked at him, eyes serious.
Sahil:
"I promise. I'll never lose. Not while I still have breath."
Their fists met.
A sacred pact sealed by friendship, by war, by destiny.
---
[Back to Present — Battlefield of Thunder and Blood]
Sahil's eyes opened.
The battlefield returned.
The pain screamed — but he screamed louder in his soul.
He planted his foot in the dirt, shakily rising to stand. The wind coiled again, weak but alive.
His lips curled into a snarl.
Sahil (low):
"I won't break. Not here. Not now."
He raised his good hand — fingers spread toward the sky.
The clouds twisted in response.
The air pressure dropped.
Leaves from far-off trees tore from their branches, pulled by the surge of wind converging into a singular mass.
His Dravillian Stone pulsed violently.
Divine Cyclone.
The sky ripped open.
From above, a celestial funnel of screaming air descended, spinning fast enough to turn water to mist and bone to dust.
It wasn't a mere windstorm — it was a divine entity, born of vengeance and oath.
Lightning crackled around its edges.
Pressure shattered rocks below.
The wind howled like ten thousand wolves in unison.
Sahil stood at its eye, hair flying wild, his silhouette framed like a war god summoned by earth and sky.
He pointed toward the generals.
Sahil:
"Face the cyclone… or fall."
But Musa wasn't shaken.
Musa (grinning):
"Finally… a storm worth dying in."
He extended both arms wide — and the veins across his shoulders lit up. From his core, he expelled a spiraling wave of violet electricity, dense like liquid lightning.
VIOLET SENSATION.
It wasn't just voltage. It was emotion.
Years of rage and dominance condensed into blinding violet fury.
Ehtesham stood beside him, fingers laced with flowing runes. He muttered in ancient tongue.
HIGH XERAFH.
A beam of pure magical force — crystalline and endless, laced with celestial light — burst from his palm. It pulsed in frequency, as if vibrating through dimensions.
The attacks met midair.
And merged.
The fusion formed an Energy Chimera — a beast of roaring magic and storming light. It had no eyes. Just mouths. Screaming mouths made of lightning and spectral flame.
It shot toward Sahil — faster than any man could react.
BOOOOOOOMM!!!
The Energy Chimera collided with Divine Cyclone.
Wind clashed with power, light with storm.
The sky cracked.
Mountains trembled.
Birds fell from the sky.
The battlefield turned white — a flash so bright it blinded gods.
Sahil was thrown back like a ragdoll, spinning in the air, slamming into a cliffside hard enough to shatter stone. His back hit with a sound like thunder muffled by blood.
He lay there, dust and rock raining down over his limp body.
Silence again.
Only the sound of his breath. Shallow. Ragged.
Blood leaked from his mouth. His ribs were fractured. Arm still dead. Legs trembling.
But…
He was smiling.
A savage grin stretched across his bruised face. His eyes — still open.
Still burning.
Because in that silence…
He heard Harun's voice again.
---
[Mini Flashback — Harun's Last Words]
Harun (laughing):
"You're not wind, bro. You're a whole damn storm. The kind that rewrites the sky."
---
[Back to Present]
Sahil coughed blood… and stood again.
One step.
Another.
And then—he ROARED.
The Divine Cyclone didn't vanish.
It grew.
Fueled by rage.
Fueled by memory.
He raised his good arm one final time.
And the cyclone bent to his command.
Far from the cyclone of lightning and fury where Sahil fought his storm — another war raged, one wrapped in whispers and wickedness.
Here, the air didn't scream. It lurched.
It was heavier. Dirtier.
Sick with intent.
In the center stood Radha — eyes sharp as obsidian, stance firm, but surrounded by… him.
Anwar.
A man whose smile slithered across his face like an oil slick.
His Dravillian Stone pulsed with a nauseating blue rhythm — the sound it emitted wasn't heard… it was felt, in the bones, in the stomach, like low thunder before a landslide.
He walked in circles around Radha, fingers trailing the air beside her shoulder, never touching… but always too close.
Anwar (whispering):
"If only you were mine, Radha… such divine beauty wasted in war. Just one kiss… just one night. You and me. Let's make music, not war…"
Radha's fists clenched.
Radha:
"You deserve only death."
BOOM!
She slammed her palms into the ground.
The earth shivered.
From the soil erupted twisting, angry vines — Divine Earth.
Not just plants — these were serpents of nature, forged from life itself, wrapping, reaching, protecting.
They roared upward, aiming to choke Anwar's wicked breath.
But—
WUBWUBWUBWUB…!
A pulsing shield erupted from Anwar's stone — a soundwave barrier called Sonic.
The vines touched it—
And disintegrated like mist hitting fire.
Radha gasped. But Anwar only laughed.
Anwar (mocking):
"Your roots are too weak to hold me, my queen."
He clapped his hands once.
A concussive blast of sound exploded from his core.
ULTRA ECHO.
Radha staggered back, clutching her ears. Her eardrums felt like they were tearing.
The air itself screamed. Even the birds fell dead from nearby trees.
Radha fell to one knee. But her gaze didn't break.
She touched the earth again.
This time — not in attack. But in hope.
WELL OF VINE.
A soft hum echoed. Vines rose again, not in rage — but in peace.
They coiled around her ankles and arms, healing, centering, grounding.
Her pain ebbed.
For a moment — she was calm.
But only for a moment.
WHOOSH.
Suddenly, he was behind her.
A breath touched her neck. Then—
Lips.
Anwar kissed her neck.
Soft. Slow. Sickening.
Radha's breath caught.
The world paused.
Tears welled up. Her fingers trembled.
Radha (soft, broken):
"...stop..."
He didn't.
His hands slid over her shoulder.
Anwar (whispering):
"One night. One body. Yours… mine…"
Slap!
She swung backward — palm landing hard across his face.
He only laughed.
Anwar:
"Pain suits you. But so does fear…"
---
🌪️ Scene shift — Sahil's distant scream echoes.
We flash briefly back to the other battlefield — Sahil roaring his cyclone, refusing to fall.
Radha hears it.
Her eyes widen.
Sahil... still fighting... still standing...
Why am I—
---
🕸️ Anwar's Final Move — Paralysis
Anwar clicked his tongue.
BYTES WOZ.
A single high-pitched tone left his lips — inaudible to most, but Radha's body froze.
Her limbs seized. She couldn't move. Not even scream.
Anwar grinned like the devil himself.
He walked up to her trembling body.
One by one, he tore away her armor — vines unraveling, sacred cloth falling.
Radha's breath came in gasps.
Tears spilled freely.
Anwar (unhinged):
"Now… you are finally mine."
His hand touched her bare stomach. Then higher.
Then—
Another kiss.
On her lips this time.
She couldn't even pull away.
Her mind shattered.
And then…
---
🌿 A Light Ignites — Dravillian Awakening
Just as his hand reached her chest—
BZZZZZHHHHMMMM!!
A green flash burst from her Dravillian Stone.
Anwar was thrown backward 50 feet, tumbling like a broken doll.
Radha gasped.
Air returned to her lungs.
Vines crawled back across her chest, covering her like silk leaves.
But something was different.
Her eyes glowed. Her heartbeat wasn't fast — it was ancient.
She stood, slowly, rising from the dirt like a deity born of rage and earth.
Her body became a vessel for something older, purer.
Clothes of bark and petals wove themselves into armor. Her skin glowed faintly with symbols. Her hair floated upward like roots reaching the stars.
Around her, birds returned. Flowers bloomed instantly in dead soil.
Even the air bowed.
Her voice came not from her mouth — but from the world itself.
Radha (echoing, calm, godlike):
"You defiled what should never have been touched."
"You broke my soul."
"Now I shatter yours."
DIVINE JUDGEMENT.
The sky shook.
A beam of green and gold fell from the heavens — not light, but conscious fury.
The attack split into one trillion tendrils of punishment.
Each one aimed directly at Anwar's body.
He screamed.
He ran.
But he couldn't escape.
Each tendril struck — again and again.
Thighs. Ribs. Neck. Spine. Fingers. Nose. Jaw. Eyes.
Like needles. Like justice.
Radha extended her arms.
From her hair — threads thinner than spider silk emerged.
Vipe Strings.
They flew through the air like sentient whispers.
Wrapped around Anwar's body.
Tight.
Unforgiving.
Anwar (screaming):
"NO! YOU CAN'T—!! I'M A GOD—!!!"
Radha (cold, final):
"You were a mistake."
She twitched her fingers.
The threads sliced.
Anwar's body exploded into 1 trillion pieces —
Every cell cut apart with brutal grace.
Only his head remained. Eyes wide. Mouth open.
She turned away. Didn't even watch it fall.
---
Winner: Radha — The Guardian Trinity.
Scene shift..
Sahil's eye opened wide.
His Dravillian Stone pulsed.
Wind.
But not just wind.
Rage. Speed. Vision.
Sahil (roaring):
"BRHAMM OF VISION!!"
Time slowed.
He could see their movement — before it even happened.
He clenched his only working hand.
And summoned everything left.
The sky darkened. Clouds swirled.
And then —
He slammed his foot down.
TORNADO WINDBLOW.
The air fractured.
The earth screamed.
A colossal tornado formed, but this one wasn't just spinning wind.
It was a blade.
A sentient cyclone of cutting force.
It twisted upward — then launched forward like a divine spear.
---
Musa raised his hands.
Too late.
The cyclone's edge tore through him like paper.
SLICCCKKKKK!!!
His head snapped cleanly off, flying into the air like a fallen king's crown.
Time slowed as his body staggered —
Blood arcing in the air.
His last expression?
Shock.
Nothing else.
Ehtesham screamed.
Ehtesham:
"You... YOU BASTARD!!!"
He threw everything — kunjiken, shuriken, magic pulses — but Sahil was already too fast, too awake.
Sahil disappeared.
Then—
FWOOOSH.
Behind Ehtesham.
A whisper of wind.
A cut.
Then another.
And another.
Ehtesham's hand — gone.
His knee — sliced.
His neck — barely hanging.
One final blow.
SHHHHRRRRRRKKKKK!!!
Tornado Windblow passed through him like divine judgment.
Ehtesham screamed.
Then fell — arms, legs, torso — all separated.
Silence returned to the field.
No more lightning.
No more mockery.
Just Sahil, standing on trembling legs, covered in blood — some his, some theirs.
He couldn't lift his arm.
He could barely breathe.
But he smiled.
Victory.
And as he stood beneath the setting sun, wind gently curling around his body, his last words echoed like thunder in the silence:
Sahil (softly):
"I told you... I won't lose."
FADE OUT.