The mist hasn't even settled from the Danava fight when the ground rumbles again, deeper this time, like the mountain's got a stomachache. Arjun's still catching his breath, Nandaka flickering faintly in his grip, when Yaksha grabs his arm and yanks him toward a jagged crevice splitting the plateau. "Move, kid! We're not sticking around for round two."
"Wait, what?!" Arjun stumbles after him, glancing back at the red eyes multiplying in the haze. "I just smoked that thing! I'm a legend now, right?"
"You're a snack if we don't haul ass," Yaksha growls, shoving him into the crevice. The walls close in tight, scraping Arjun's shoulders as they descend, the air growing hot and thick with a metallic tang. The growls fade above, but something else echoes below—a rhythmic clang, like a hammer on steel. Yaksha's mask glints in the dim light, his voice low. "We're dropping into Vitala. Keep your head down and your lightning ready."
"Vitala?" Arjun mutters, tripping over a rock. "Sounds like a health drink. What's down there?"
Yaksha doesn't answer, just keeps moving. The crevice widens into a cavern, and Arjun's jaw drops. It's a forge—massive, glowing, alive. Rivers of molten gold snake through the floor, hissing steam where they meet black stone. Anvils the size of cars line the walls, and chains dangle from the ceiling, swaying like they're waiting for something to trap. In the center, a hulking figure pounds a slab of metal with a hammer bigger than Arjun. Its skin's molten red, cracked with veins of fire, and its eyes burn like twin suns.
"Meet the smiths of Vitala," Yaksha says, stepping forward. "Asuras. They craft weapons for gods and demons alike. And they don't like visitors."
The Asura pauses, hammer mid-swing, and turns. Its voice is a furnace roar. "Yaksha. You dare bring a mortal here?" It sniffs the air, glaring at Arjun. "He stinks of lightning. Weak. Unworthy."
Arjun bristles, gripping Nandaka. "Weak? I just toasted a Danava, you lava-faced jerk!"
The Asura laughs, a sound like grinding rocks, and drops its hammer. The clang shakes the cavern, and two more Asuras emerge from the shadows, each uglier than the last—one's got horns curling like a ram, the other's got six arms, all flexing. "A Danava? A flea. Prove your spark, boy, or we'll melt you down with the slag."
Yaksha steps between them, axe ready. "He's with me. We need passage, not a fight."
"Passage costs," the lead Asura snarls, pointing its hammer at Arjun. "His blade's dull. His power's raw. Forge it—or he dies."
Arjun blinks. "Forge what now?"
Yaksha sighs, lowering his axe slightly. "Nandaka. It's a relic, but it's asleep. Vitala's heat can wake it—if you've got the guts to wield it."
The Asura grins, showing teeth like molten shards. "Step into the fire, mortal. Channel your lightning. Bind it to the blade. Or burn."
Arjun gulps, the heat already searing his skin. "Bro, I'm not a sword guy—I'm barely a lightning guy!"
"No choice," Yaksha mutters, shoving him toward a glowing anvil. "They'll kill us both if you don't."
The Asuras circle, watching like vultures. Arjun stumbles to the anvil, Nandaka trembling in his hands. The lead Asura tosses a chunk of shimmering ore onto the slab—blue, pulsing, like bottled thunder. "Strike it. Fuse it. Prove you're more than meat."
Arjun's heart's hammering, sweat dripping into his eyes. He lifts Nandaka, feeling like an idiot, and swings. The blade clangs off the ore, sparks flying, but nothing happens. The Asuras laugh, a chorus of molten mockery. "Pathetic!" one bellows, flexing six fists.
"Focus, kid!" Yaksha snaps, dodging a chain the ram-horned Asura swings at him. "Lightning's in you—*push* it!"
Arjun grits his teeth, the heat choking him. He swings again, harder, picturing storms, bolts, chaos. A faint zap crackles along Nandaka, but it's weak, flickering out fast. The lead Asura snarls, raising its hammer. "Enough. You're scrap."
Panic hits. Arjun's vision blurs, the cavern spinning—then something clicks. That buzzing in his chest, the one he felt on the plateau, surges. He slams Nandaka down, screaming, and lightning explodes from him—raw, blue, uncontrollable. It slams into the ore, the anvil, the air itself. The blade drinks it, glowing hot, and the ore melts, fusing into the steel with a shriek of energy.
The Asuras freeze, eyes wide. The cavern trembles, chains rattling, as Nandaka pulses—alive, electric, a storm trapped in metal. Arjun staggers back, panting, hands scorched but grinning. "Who's weak now, huh?"
The lead Asura lowers its hammer, grudging respect in its fiery gaze. "The blade's awake. You're still meat—but spiced meat." It gestures to a tunnel glowing with gold light. "Passage granted. Get out."
Yaksha grabs Arjun, hauling him toward the exit as the Asuras return to their work, hammers pounding. "Nice job, kid. Didn't think you'd pull it off."
Arjun smirks, Nandaka humming in his grip. "Thunder toddler's got tricks, big guy." But as they step into the tunnel, a shadow flickers ahead—tall, cloaked, watching. Yaksha tenses, and Arjun's grin fades. "Uh… friend of yours?"
"No," Yaksha mutters, axe ready. "Trouble."
The figure vanishes, and the tunnel darkens, heat fading to an eerie chill. Arjun's lightning flickers, unsteady. "Vitala's fun and all, but I'm guessing this ride's just getting started."
Yaksha nods, grim. "Welcome to the deep places, kid. Next stop's worse."
The tunnel twists downward, the golden glow dimming to a sickly orange as they press on. Nandaka's humming in Arjun's hand, a live wire of lightning that's got his fingers tingling, but that shadowy figure has him on edge. The air's heavier now, laced with sulfur and something sour, like Vitala's rotting from the inside. Yaksha's ahead, mask cracked but still on, axe gripped tight. He's quiet—too quiet—and Arjun hates it.
"Yo, big guy," Arjun says, jogging to keep up. "That cloaked creep back there—who was that? Another Asura with a bad attitude?"
Yaksha doesn't turn. "Not an Asura. Something older. Vitala's not just a forge—it's a prison. Things get trapped here. Things that don't die easy."
Arjun snorts, trying to shake the unease. "Cool, so we're walking into a jailbreak? Love that for us."
The tunnel opens into a massive chamber, and Arjun stops dead. It's a chasm, bottomless, spanned by a rickety bridge of blackened bone and chain. Below, molten gold churns, bubbling up in geysers that spit sparks. On the far side, a gate looms—huge, spiked, glowing with runes that pulse like a heartbeat. But it's the figures on the bridge that make Arjun's stomach lurch: skeletal warriors, armor fused to their bones, eyes glowing the same red as the Danavas. Dozens of them, shambling forward, swords drawn.
"Uh, Yaksha?" Arjun says, voice cracking. "These guys don't look like they're here to trade blacksmith tips."
Yaksha spins his axe, stepping onto the bridge. "Kshatriyas of Vitala. Cursed soldiers. They guard the gate. We're not welcome."
The skeletons charge, silent but fast, bones clattering. Yaksha meets them head-on, axe cleaving through two in one swing, shards flying. Arjun grips Nandaka, lightning sparking along the blade. "Okay, thunder toddler, time to shine!" He slashes, and a bolt arcs out, frying a skeleton into ash. "Hah! One down!"
But there's too many. Yaksha's a whirlwind, smashing skulls, but the bridge sways under the weight, chains groaning. Arjun swings again, lightning wild, blasting three more—but a skeletal hand grabs his ankle, yanking him down. He hits the bone planks hard, Nandaka skittering away. "Not cool!" he yelps, kicking free as another skeleton looms, sword raised.
Yaksha roars, hurling his axe like a boomerang. It spins, decapitating the skeleton, and loops back to his hand. He hauls Arjun up, shoving Nandaka back into his grip. "Focus, kid! They don't stop unless you break them all!"
Arjun nods, shaky but pissed. He plants his feet, breathing deep, and channels the lightning again. Nandaka flares, brighter this time, and he swings wide—a crescent of blue energy rips through the bridge, disintegrating half the skeletons. The rest stumble, and Yaksha finishes them, stomping skulls into dust.
The bridge holds—barely—and they sprint for the gate, molten geysers erupting behind them. Arjun's panting, exhilarated. "Bro, we're unstoppable! Thunder and pig-mask power!"
Yaksha grunts, slamming his axe into the gate. The runes flare, resisting, but a crack splits the metal. "Don't celebrate yet. That shadow's still out there."
As if on cue, the air chills, and the cloaked figure steps from the gate's shadow—tall, gaunt, draped in rags that writhe like smoke. Its face is hidden, but its voice cuts like a blade. "Yaksha. You bring a storm to Vitala. He will unmake us all."
Arjun raises Nandaka, lightning crackling. "Who's this edgelord?"
Yaksha's tense, axe ready. "A Warden. Keeps Vitala's prisoners in line. Doesn't like change."
The Warden drifts forward, hands glowing with black fire. "The blade wakes. The boy burns. Leave him, Yaksha, or I bind you both to the forge."
Arjun laughs, nervous but defiant. "Bind me? Bro, I just smoked your skeleton squad. Try me!"
The Warden lunges, black fire lashing out. Yaksha blocks with his axe, sparks flying, and shoves Arjun back. "Hit it with everything, kid! Now!"
Arjun digs deep, lightning surging through him—hot, wild, almost too much. His eyes glow white, Nandaka blazing, and he roars, unleashing a torrent of electricity. It slams into the Warden, shattering its fire, driving it back. The gate buckles, runes exploding, and the Warden screeches, dissolving into smoke.
The way's clear, but Arjun's knees buckle, vision fading. Yaksha catches him, dragging him through the gate as Vitala trembles behind them. "You're reckless," Yaksha mutters, almost proud.
Arjun grins weakly. "Thunder toddler… saves the day…"
Darkness takes him, and Vitala's heat fades to silence.