CHAPTER 156: BLOOD IN THE RAIN

The guardian beast stood like a silent statue at the edge of the village, its metallic wings catching the orange gleam of the setting sun. The villagers had started calling it Sentinel. Some left food near its feet. One child gave it a flower crown, which it wore unironically.

Zorawar stayed by the fire long after the children went to sleep. Kairav sharpened a blade nearby, while Vyuk doodled exaggerated battle scenes in his field log, labeling one stick figure Zorawar the Broody and another Vyuk the Fabulous.

"You should rest," Kairav said without looking up.

Zorawar kept his gaze on the fire. "I don’t feel tired."

Vyuk chimed in. "That’s because you’re running on a mix of guilt, responsibility, and raw dramatic energy. Honestly, impressive."

Zorawar threw a twig at him. Missed.

"You ever think maybe you care too much?" Vyuk asked, more seriously this time. "About being perfect, I mean."

Zorawar exhaled. "It’s not about being perfect. It’s about not messing up again."

Kairav finally looked up. "You will mess up again."

"...Thanks?"

"I’m not insulting you," Kairav said. "I’m warning you. You’ll fail. We all do. The trick is making sure your failure doesn’t come from fear."

A long pause.

Then Vyuk, gently: "We’ll keep screwing up together. It’s a package deal."

That earned a small smile from Zorawar.

They stayed in the village for two more days.

Zorawar carved another totem. Vyuk helped a baker repair her oven (badly). Kairav taught the local kids how to identify poisonous mushrooms, which ended with a twelve-year-old trying to eat one "just to test him."

When they finally left, the road was still muddy, the air still smelled like smoke—but the people smiled when they waved goodbye.

The Guardian Sentinel watched them until they vanished behind the hill.

Later That Night, on the Road

They camped beneath a crescent moon. Dren curled beside Zorawar, breathing slow and steady. Vyuk sat on a rock, tuning a stringed instrument he’d "borrowed" from the last town.

Kairav stared into the forest.

"Something wrong?" Zorawar asked.

"Too quiet," Kairav said. "No birds. No insects."

Vyuk looked up. "Maybe nature’s just respecting our right to silence."

Kairav didn’t smile.

Zorawar reached for his pendant — the small carved one, the wolf and flame. He wore it now like armor.

"We’ll move at first light," Kairav said. "There’s something ahead."

Zorawar nodded. He didn’t ask questions.

But that night, as they drifted off to sleep, the wind picked up — colder than it should’ve been.

And somewhere far ahead on the road, a string was being pulled.

Zorawar felt it first. The tension in the wind. The odd silence of birds. The way Kairav’s footsteps slowed just slightly, like a beast sensing danger before a trap snaps shut.

They were walking a forest path between two outer villages. Zorawar was humming something — badly. Vyuk was scribbling in his field log while nearly tripping over every second rock.

Then—

"Move!"

Kairav’s voice cut like a blade.

Zorawar didn’t hesitate. He ducked low and scanned the treeline. The air had gone still — that kind of still that feels like a breath being held too long.

Kairav stepped forward, calm but coiled. "Five," he muttered.

Vyuk blinked. "Five what?"

"Heartbeat patterns. One’s limping. One’s left-handed. Two are nervous. One thinks he’s the leader."

"Right. Normal people don’t know that, but cool."

Zorawar grinned slightly. "You’re not normal people, Vyuk. You’re emotionally flammable."

Vyuk held up a finger. "Incorrect. I am mentally flammable. Entirely different. And less legal."

Then the arrow came.

The first arrow came from the left, whistling straight for Kairav’s neck. He didn’t flinch. His hand snapped up, caught the shaft mid-air, and spun it around like a dagger.

Five mercenaries burst out from the bushes. Not bandits. These were trained. Matching armor. Sigils on their belts. Paid killers.

"Take the old man alive!" one barked. "Others are optional."

Zorawar’s face darkened. "Old man? You poor souls have no idea what you’re walking into."

Vyuk ducked behind a rock with a yelp. "I’m optional! I’m optional!"

The first mercenary lunged at Kairav with a hooked blade. Kairav dodged effortlessly, shifted his stance, and snapped the man’s elbow in a single twist. The second mercenary screamed and came in swinging—

—Kairav kicked his kneecap backward with a sickening crack.

Two down. Fast.

One of the remaining mercs hissed. "He’s just one man!"

Another snapped, "He’s not a man. He’s a myth that punches holes through armor!"

They fanned out — smarter now.

Zorawar took cover behind a mossy tree, watching Kairav move like flowing stone — every strike efficient, every dodge minimal. Not flashy. Just lethal.

A spear came flying at Vyuk.

He yelped and ducked. "Hey! I’m carrying several rare fungi and zero combat skills!"

Zorawar shouted, "Then stay down!"

Vyuk peeked up. "Define ’down’! Emotionally? Spiritually?"

A dagger landed in the log beside his face.

"Got it!" He vanished.

Zorawar didn’t wait. He stepped back, slid his hand into the pouch, and pulled out three beast cores — one red, one black, one green.

He hesitated.

His hands shook.

This wasn’t like the village, or the wild hills. These weren’t beasts or bandits. These were people — trained killers, sure, but still human. If he messed up here, if the fusion went wrong...

Someone innocent might die.

Again.

Zorawar closed his eyes. A flash of Priya’s smile cut through the fear — then the memory of the girl behind the fence. Still alive. Still safe.

Because he chose to act.

"No more freezing."

He slammed the cores together.

This wasn’t a normal fight. These guys weren’t here for money. They wanted Kairav. Someone had sent them.

He crushed the three cores together.

"FUSE — SHADOWCLAW, IRONFANG, WINDSTRIDER!"

The ground trembled. Wind spiraled around the fusion point, ripping leaves off the trees. Sparks of Pran crackled like electricity.

From the storm, a monster emerged — a wolf-drake hybrid with metallic scales, wing-legs, and shadowy wisps trailing from its jaws. Its eyes burned violet.

Vyuk peeked from cover. "...uh, did you test that one yet?"

Zorawar: "...Nope."

The fused beast roared, a sound that cracked branches and scattered the remaining mercenaries.

Three ran. One got too close.

The beast leapt — and in one bite, ripped his shoulder clean off.

Zorawar flinched.

He could feel it already. The Pran inside the fusion wasn’t stable. One beast wanted to fly. One wanted to kill. One wanted to protect. The instincts were clashing.

"Control it!" Kairav shouted, dodging a thrown axe and cracking another man’s ribs.

Zorawar raised his hand. "Wait—wait, down, boy! Sit! Roll over! I don’t know, don’t kill anyone else!!"

The beast paused... then turned.

A woman stood near a tree, frozen in fear — a traveling merchant, probably just trying to get home.

The beast’s shadowy form shimmered. It locked onto her.

It lunged.

Zorawar’s heart dropped. He reached deep — called out to the core, the bloodline, the link.

"STOP!"

The fusion beast froze mid-air — trembled — and then crashed down just feet in front of her, snarling.

It didn’t attack.

It just looked back at Zorawar. Waiting.

The woman ran.

Zorawar dropped to one knee, breathing hard. His hand trembled.

He looked at the beast. It was shaking too. Unstable.

"What did I do?"

Kairav walked over, calm despite the carnage. Three mercenaries were dead. The others had fled.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Just placed a hand on Zorawar’s shoulder.

Then, softly:

"Don’t bury your guilt. Understand it."

Zorawar didn’t answer.

Zorawar looked at him, jaw tight. "What if next time... I don’t stop it?"

"Then you learn before next time," Kairav said. "Or you die. Or worse — others do."

"That’s comforting."

"It’s not supposed to be."

Zorawar stood, pacing. "You always act like you’re ten steps ahead. Like nothing surprises you."

Kairav shrugged. "Most things don’t."

"And if I said this fusion felt wrong? That it didn’t just obey me — it hesitated, like it was afraid of what I might make it do?"

Kairav’s expression didn’t change. "Then treat it like a child. Scared of its own strength."

Zorawar stared at him. "You think I’m ready to raise something like that?"

Kairav walked away.

"You’re already doing it."

That Night...

The rain finally came.

The kind that washes blood away... but not memories.

Zorawar sat near the campfire. Not close. Just enough to feel its warmth. He was staring at his hands. As if afraid they might twist into something else.

Vyuk sat beside him, tossing pebbles into a puddle.

"First fusion of three," he said. "Pretty intense."

Zorawar didn’t reply.

Vyuk looked at him, softer this time. "Hey... You saved Kairav. You saved me. That woman too."

"But I almost didn’t," Zorawar murmured. "If I hadn’t stopped it... She’d be dead. That thing—I made it, Vyuk. I made it and I couldn’t control it."

Vyuk tapped his field log. "You’re still learning."

Zorawar gave a hollow laugh. "Learning with lives at stake."

"Then learn faster," Vyuk said, surprisingly firm. "Because one day you’ll need to control something even worse."

Zorawar looked at him.

Vyuk met his gaze without flinching.

"We’ll change this world together."

Zorawar stared at the fire.

Then nodded.

But in his eyes — something had changed. Not resolve. Not yet.

Doubt.