As the Vault of Remembrance closed behind him, Ravana stepped into the Circle of Origin, the sacred battlefield where Ashura bloodlines were tested by fate itself. The sky darkened not with storm—but with reverence. The earth pulsed, as if holding its breath.
From the shadows walked a towering figure draped in black war robes, his eyes burning red beneath a crown of bone and stone. In one hand, he held a staff etched with millions of ancient scripts. In the other, he carried nothing—yet the air bent around his palm.
The Black—the Guardian of Ashura and Humanity, protector of balance, and the final judge of one's right to power.
"Ravana," Black said, his voice like thunder over a funeral drum. "You carry the truth. But are you strong enough to protect it?"
Ravana didn't flinch. "I came not to beg for power. I came to awaken what was sealed."
Black nodded. "Then prepare for the Trial of the Origin. If your will fails… you will vanish from every timeline."
Just as the trial began, a ripple broke through the sky.
Two figures landed beside the Circle—both monkey-like in form, yet vastly different in presence. One was calm, radiating timeless defiance and divine pride. The other was fierce, wild, his presence shaking the air with power.
"We came for him," the calm one said, bowing slightly to Black.
Black tilted his head. "Ashuras… from different myths."
The figure stepped forward, his golden fur shimmering under the fading sky. "I am Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. The one who defied Heaven, who shattered mountains for freedom. Ravana is not just a warrior—he is our kind."
The wild one pounded his chest. "And I am Hanuman, son of Vayu. Ravana once stood against Rama, but now I see truth in his path. We were lied to."
Black's gaze narrowed. "You two are Ashura-born too. Not gods. Not monsters. Something forged by the world itself."
Hanuman nodded. "Ashura… the will of nature itself. We were its first swords."
Nazha arrived moments later, divine fire dancing around his form. "And I stand with my friend. Ravana's war is my war."
Black stepped back and let the battlefield reshape. The Circle of Origin twisted into a realm of past and power—each stone humming with the echoes of Ashura history.
"You have allies," Black said. "But this test is yours alone, Ravana. To lead, you must face every shadow you've buried."
From the void, mirror-like projections rose—each one a fragment of Ravana's former selves. Some were kings. Others were monsters. All were truths.
To claim his future, Ravana must defeat the many faces of his past.