CHAPTER 153: IF YOU HAVE POWER, PROTECT THOSE WHO DON’T

The campfire crackled softly in the cold dusk, casting flickering shadows across Zorawar’s bruised face. Smoke curled into the sky, where stars peeked out like silent watchers.

Kairav sat across from him, sharpening his blade with calm precision. His coat fluttered lightly in the breeze, hood still down, eyes steady and unreadable.

"You’re strong, kid," Kairav said suddenly, not looking up.

"Not physically. But here—" he tapped his temple "—and here." His fingers touched his chest. "Mentally. Spiritually. And that’s rarer than you think."

Zorawar didn’t answer at first.

He looked down at the fire. His eyes reflected the flames—but not their warmth. Only memory.

"My amma," Zorawar whispered. "She died. Almost all the kids in my orphanage died too. So tell me, Master Kairav..."

His voice trembled.

"What do I even have left to protect?"

Kairav finally stopped sharpening. He placed the blade aside and leaned forward, his voice low but firm.

"Those who are gone... are gone. You can’t bring them back, Zorawar."

He gestured behind them, toward the road they came from.

"But you still have people who need you. You have your friend. The villagers who survived. You have this world — and it’s full of kids just like you, praying someone will protect them."

Zorawar’s throat tightened.

"And if you ever gain power..." Kairav’s voice grew sharper, cutting through the stillness, "use it to protect those who don’t."

Zorawar looked at him — really looked.

For a moment, silence wrapped around them like a second night. Then:

"I’ll make you stronger," Kairav said. "Stronger than you ever thought possible. But it’s your choice."

Before Zorawar could respond, Vyuk stepped forward from the shadows. His face still bore marks of pain, but his eyes burned with that same quiet fire Kairav had seen before.

"I want to get stronger too," Vyuk said.

Zorawar turned to him slowly. He studied his best friend—the cuts, the bruises, the way he still stood tall even after being beaten down again and again.

And something shifted inside Zorawar.

He whispered without realizing it. "How are you still like this...?"

Vyuk looked at him, confused. "What?"

But Zorawar wasn’t talking to him anymore. He clenched his fists, brows furrowed.

"I can be like that too."

He stood.

"I will be like that."

He turned to Kairav, his voice steadier now.

"You’re right. I still have people to protect."

He looked at Vyuk. "I have Vaibhav."

He closed his eyes for a second.

"I have Didi — Priya."

Zorawar opened his eyes and met Kairav’s gaze.

"Train me."

Kairav gave a small nod.

"Good. Then let’s begin at first light."

Kairav stood up, brushing the dust from his coat. His sword rested on his back again, and his eyes scanned the bruised, tired faces around him — Zorawar, Vyuk, Priya, the injured elders, and the silent children.

"Let’s move," he said softly. "I have a place nearby. Somewhere safe. You’ll be able to rest... and heal."

Zorawar exchanged a glance with Vyuk, then with Priya, who still walked with a slight limp but nodded firmly.

Kairav led the way. They followed.

The group walked in silence, the night air cold but gentle. Every crunch of dry grass beneath their feet echoed the weight of what they’d left behind. Wounds. Loss. Ashes.

About five hundred meters beyond the charred village, past a half-buried hill shrouded in overgrowth, Kairav stopped. He pressed his hand against a seemingly ordinary slab of stone.

A soft click echoed.

And then the ground itself shifted.

With a low rumble, a hidden stone gate slid sideways, revealing a tunnel that sloped down into the earth — wide enough to fit a wagon, lit from within by flickering blue crystal lanterns embedded along the walls.

Zorawar gasped. "What is this place...?"

Kairav didn’t answer at first. He just motioned them in.

The air inside the tunnel was cool and dry. The walls were smooth, carved with ancient markings — symbols of protection, energy flow, and peace. As they walked deeper, the tunnel opened wider... and wider...

Until it bloomed into a massive underground chamber.

Zorawar’s eyes widened.

The chamber was enormous — the ceiling at least three stories high. Crystal lanterns lined the arched ceiling, casting a soft bluish glow. Pathways spread out in all directions. On either side, there were modest stone homes — built into the walls, neatly arranged like a hidden village. Each home had a wooden door, clay pots, mats rolled beside steps, and small cloth curtains swaying at the windows.

A clear water canal flowed gently through the center of the underground village, its surface reflecting the crystal light above.

On the far end, a common hall stood — wide enough for fifty people, with benches, food storage, and bundles of blankets piled neatly in corners.

There were even small training courtyards, though simple — dirt floors, wooden posts, and rope dummies tied to stone stakes.

Zorawar stepped into the chamber slowly, stunned. "You... made this?"

Kairav nodded, quietly proud. "Built it over the years. For people like you."

Vyuk looked around, amazement shining in his eyes. "It’s like... an underground world."

Priya touched the wall beside one of the homes. "It’s warm... even though we’re under the earth."

"I shaped the flow of Pran energy through these walls," Kairav explained. "They’ll keep the place livable through any season."

He turned to face the group. His voice rang louder now — strong, certain.

"This place is called Guhashram. It’s a haven for those who cannot fight. A place where the blade doesn’t rule. Where children won’t cry from fear... only laughter, if we’re lucky."

He looked at Zorawar and Vyuk.

"I will protect this place. As long as I breathe."

Zorawar stared at him for a long moment. Then, without even thinking, he bowed slightly.

"Thank you."

Kairav smiled faintly, almost embarrassed. "No need for that, kid. You’re going to help protect it too. One day."

Vyuk grinned. "Then we better start training."

Priya exhaled softly and leaned against the wall, her strength nearly gone.

But her lips curled into a smile.

For the first time in days... maybe weeks... she felt safe.

Zorawar closed his eyes.

It wasn’t the home he had lost. But maybe it could be the home he’d fight to protect.

That night, after warm food and a shared silence, Kairav led Zorawar and Vyuk to a modest room carved into the stone wall — a shared space with simple beds, folded robes, and clay jars of clean water.

Before leaving, Kairav looked over his shoulder.

"Rest well tonight," he said. "From tomorrow, your training begins. You won’t be alone."

Then he left, his footsteps fading down the crystal-lit hallway.

The Next Morning...

Zorawar awoke to the faint sound of chanting — rhythmic, steady, almost like breathing.

He blinked. Vyuk was already up, rubbing his arms and wincing.

"These stone beds are brutal," Vyuk muttered. "But I’m ready."

Zorawar stood in silence, eyes lingering on the thread bracelet burned onto his wrist. He touched it absently before following Vyuk out.

They were led to a training courtyard, circular, with open skylights above and polished stone beneath their feet. Kairav stood barefoot in the center, his coat hanging loose, his sword placed beside him.

Six other young trainees were already there — a girl with silver eyes, a broad-shouldered boy missing one arm, and others with wary but focused expressions. Survivors, like them.

Kairav raised a hand. The courtyard went quiet.

"You’ve all heard of mana," he began. "It flows from the world. You gather it, shape it, release it."

"But Pran..."

He placed his palm against his chest.

"Pran is different. It doesn’t belong to the world. It belongs to you."

He walked slowly between them.

He said, "Let me make it easier for you."

"Unlike mana, which must be gathered from the world, Pran already exists in all things — in trees, in beasts, in the wind, even in the stars. It flows through breath, blood, and soil. It’s not something you control — it’s something you already possess, but haven’t awakened yet."

"Mana bends. Pran responds."

"Mana is cast. Pran is channeled."

"Mana is a tool. Pran is life."

"Pran flows through your thoughts. It’s the oldest force in existence. Life itself. Before you learn to fight — you must learn to breathe. To feel. To survive with awareness."

Zorawar furrowed his brow. "How does breathing help us fight?"

Kairav didn’t answer.

Instead, he clapped once.

"Everyone. Breathe in."

They obeyed.

"Now hold it. Feel your chest. Your spine. Your limbs."

Vyuk wobbled slightly.

Zorawar held his breath easily — but his fists clenched, shoulders tight.

"Let go," Kairav said. "Again."

For the next hour, they did nothing but breathe, stand, and shift stances. Footwork. Balance. Awareness. Nothing flashy. Nothing aggressive.

But both boys noticed something strange — their bodies felt warm. Tingly. Alive.

After two hours, they were drenched in sweat.

Vyuk collapsed onto the stone and groaned. "That’s... breathing? That’s it?"

Kairav chuckled. "That’s the foundation. If you can’t feel yourself, how will you feel an enemy’s intent?"

Zorawar said nothing. He wiped his face, but his mind burned hotter than his skin.

That night, as they returned to their room, Vyuk turned toward him.

"You’re quiet," he said.

Zorawar stared at the floor. "I couldn’t focus."

Vyuk gave him a small smile. "Still thinking about Amma?"

Zorawar didn’t answer. But his eyes said enough.

Vyuk’s voice softened. "We’ll protect the next Amma. Together."

Later That Week...

Kairav took the group beyond Guhashram for the first time — a small mountain village nearby had sent a distress signal using a fire marker.

"Bandits," Kairav said. "Small gang. But dangerous."

The village was nestled in a slope, with stone paths and herb farms. When they arrived, homes were in shambles. Farmers bruised. One woman cried over her burned basket.

Zorawar’s fists clenched.

Kairav handed the students wooden staffs and whispered, "Focus your breath. Time your steps. You don’t need strength — you need control."

The bandits came at dusk — five of them, mocking the children, thinking them weak.

They weren’t ready for what met them.

Vyuk slipped and missed his stance at first — a bandit threw him to the ground — but he rolled, grabbed a pot, and smashed it against the man’s knee.

Zorawar didn’t hold back. He moved fast — too fast for someone untrained. His stick cracked against one bandit’s arm, then another’s knee. His footwork wasn’t perfect — but it had bite.

Kairav watched, impressed. "He’s already syncing breath with motion."

One bandit drew a real blade. Zorawar froze, unarmed.

Then... something moved behind him.

A beast.

It wasn’t large — maybe the size of a wolf. But it had bright golden eyes and stripes of midnight blue across its fur.

It stood beside Zorawar, snarling.

The bandit stepped back, panicked. "What the hell is that!?"

The beast didn’t attack.

It just stared at Zorawar... like it had chosen him.

Kairav narrowed his eyes. "A Spirit Beast...?"

Zorawar turned, breathing heavily, blood on his lip.

And for a moment, he and the beast locked eyes.

Something passed between them. Not words. Not thought.

Just understanding.

Zorawar didn’t smile.

But he whispered, "You came back..."