In the heart of Doon City, nestled against the sacred cliffs of Mount Vyoma, stood the sprawling fortress-like campus of Adraksha Academy—one of the most respected institutions in the province of Doon.
With white stone walls veined with living runes and towers shaped like lotus petals facing the sky, the academy was not only a school—it was a beacon. Every year, thousands of aspirants from noble houses, mercantile guilds, and commoner clans alike crossed its gates with dreams of awakening the Divine Path.
Though Adraksha was but a sub-academy of the legendary Imperial Hall of Sovereigns in the capital, it carried the honor of being the only academy in the North founded by a Rank Four Divine Path warrior—a title so rare that most only heard of it in legends. The man was said to be Headmaster Charles, a quiet and enigmatic figure whose presence was more myth than fact. He was a graduate of the Imperial Hall and once a war-general of the east—at least, if the stories were to be believed.
Under his distant eye, the academy flourished.
It was divided into specialized divisions:
Path Division – training warriors of the Divine Path
Sage Division – the thinkers, researchers, and architects of energy systems
Alchemist Division – those who merged nature and Prāṇa for medicine and materials
Array & Rune Division – experts in divine inscriptions and spatial manipulation
All students, regardless of background, began with a foundation year that tested their aptitude before specialization. Most never advanced beyond Level One.
---
When Rudra stepped through the great archway of Adraksha for the first time since the ambush, he felt the weight of hundreds of gazes snap toward him.
The courtyard buzzed with whispers.
"Isn't that the boy who got ambushed?"
"I heard he was nearly killed."
"Wasn't he in a coma for days?"
"He looks... completely fine."
Rudra ignored them.
He adjusted his uniform—gray robes with a pale blue sash denoting Foundation Year—and walked toward the inner sanctum. A few familiar faces waved hesitantly. Some looked relieved. Others skeptical.
Then came a voice.
"Rudra! You bastard, you didn't even die properly!"
He turned and grinned.
Yavin, a lanky youth with ink-stained hands and more sarcasm than sense, ran up to him.
"We were this close to carving your name into the memorial stone," Yavin said, jabbing a finger. "And now you're just walking around like nothing happened?"
"Sorry to disappoint."
Yavin shook his head. "Well, at least you'll make an excellent ghost story."
More students gathered—old classmates, training peers, even a few seniors. Rudra nodded to each with casual calm.
Then, as the first bell rang, they parted, and classes resumed.
---
Lecture Hall: Principles of the Path
Rudra sat near the front, pen in hand, eyes alert.
His teacher, Instructor Devyani, a sharp-eyed woman with flame-colored robes, began the lecture with a curt nod.
"Today we review the first foundational stages of the Divine Path."
She glanced at Rudra. Her expression paused—just for a moment.
"It's good to see some of you recovered."
She turned back to the class.
"The Divine Path is not simply power—it is balance. It is alignment between body, breath, and soul. The first stage is Prāṇa Initiation. This is when the body becomes a vessel, capable of sensing and circulating divine energy."
She drew a glyph on the board:
Level One: Prāṇa Initiate
Requires harmony of breath, physical health, and inner stillness
Body begins absorbing ambient Prāṇa
Reflexes, recovery, and perception improve drastically
"Those who succeed often describe it as a spiritual 'click'. Their body simply wakes up."
Rudra nodded slowly. He had felt that.
"Level Two," Devyani continued, "is the Pulse Awakening stage."
Level Two: Pulse Initiate
Internal circulation of Prāṇa begins
Muscles, bones, and nerves strengthen further
Capable of minor energy projection (flame, shock, kinetic bursts)
"This is often attained by age nineteen or twenty by gifted students."
Rudra scribbled notes furiously.
"Then comes Form Refinement."
Level Three: Refined Path
Body begins evolving
External energy begins to respond to your will
Combat speed and awareness reach superhuman levels
"Few reach this stage before their mid-twenties. And those who do become future generals or war-leaders."
Someone raised a hand. "Instructor, how rare is Rank Four?"
Devyani paused.
"Rare, but not unheard of—most kingdoms had several hundred among millions of people. It's said that those who reach it can flatten armies alone."
A chill swept the room.
---
Physical Techniques Class – Training Field Six
Sunlight shimmered off the golden grass of the outdoor training yard.
Instructor Bhaskar, a thick-necked former soldier with a permanent scowl, paced between rows of students.
"Warm-ups! One hundred body-weight repetitions, followed by core rotations."
Rudra moved.
His body obeyed with unusual precision. He felt lighter, more balanced. Every motion reminded him of the rhythm from the night before—the dancer's flow.
But he wasn't perfect. His left shoulder still throbbed from the healing wound, and certain stances made pain spike along his spine.
Bhaskar stopped. Arms crossed.
"You. Rudra. Come here."
Rudra stepped forward.
"Spar with Garek," the instructor said, nodding to a senior two years above them. Garek was tall, broad, and had already broken through to early Prāṇa Initiation.
Gasps echoed around them.
"He's a senior!"
"He's already awakened... this isn't fair."
Rudra simply bowed.
They faced off.
The whistle blew.
Garek came fast—too fast. A straight punch to the ribs nearly dropped Rudra in the opening second. He barely twisted out of the way, but the follow-up kick struck his thigh.
Pain flared. Rudra staggered back, biting down a cry.
Don't freeze. Flow.
He shifted his stance, recalling the dance—not its grace, but its awareness. He started predicting Garek's rhythm.
Garek swung again. Rudra ducked, countered with a low sweep. Garek jumped, but Rudra pivoted, driving a fist into his side.
A hit. Not a heavy one, but enough to make Garek blink.
Garek grinned. "You've got bite."
Then came the second wave—faster, heavier. Rudra blocked one strike but was thrown backward by a shoulder bash. He hit the ground, coughing.
He rolled, dodged a stomp, and came up swinging.
Their fists clashed. Their feet skidded across the training ground.
Around them, the class had stopped moving. Even Bhaskar had frozen mid-step.
Rudra's body screamed. But his will held. Each exchange was cleaner than the last. He was adjusting. Learning. Breathing into the rhythm.
Then, at the same moment, both fighters lunged. Fist met rib. Knee met thigh.
They collapsed together.
Garek groaned, half-laughing. "You... little brat."
Rudra coughed. "You too... heavy."
Instructor Bhaskar approached. He looked down at both boys.
"Draw. And well earned."
He extended a hand to Rudra.
"You. Report to the advanced group next week."
Rudra took it, breath ragged, pride burning.
He hadn't won.
But he hadn't lost.
And something inside him had started to awaken.
---
---
After Class – Instructor's Tower
After a long day, Rudra requested to meet Instructor Devyani in private.
She welcomed him into her tower office lined with relics and scrolls.
"I want to understand more," he said. "About the Divine Path. Not just the physical stages. The... spiritual side."
Devyani tilted her head. "And what sparked this interest?"
"A dream," Rudra said softly.
She didn't press. Instead, she gestured toward a scroll.
"There are deeper layers. Beyond Level Three, the Path turns... strange. Minds begin to touch concepts, not just energies. Emotion shapes Prāṇa. Intent rewrites form."
She stepped closer.
"But that comes later. For now, focus on anchoring your will. If you truly want to ascend... you must align more than just body and breath. You must tame your doubt."
Rudra bowed.
As he stepped into the late afternoon sun, he exhaled deeply.
The academy had changed. Or perhaps, he had.
Either way, the world had begun to notice.