The land changed.
From golden dunes and sunlit skies, Veer now entered a place untouched by warmth or time. The cursed plains of Bhairav stretched like a wound in the earth — cracked soil, lifeless trees turned to ash, and an endless mist that clung to his skin like breathless whispers. There were no stars above, no moon to follow. Even the Shivansh Pendant, so bright in battle, now dimmed in caution, as if to warn him: this was no ordinary place.
But Veer did not turn back.
He walked with steady steps, every sense sharpened. The forested valley would have been safer. That was clear. But the message from the System was clearer: Growth does not wait for comfort. If he was to become more than a bearer of fire — if he was to be a king — then he had to walk where kings feared to tread.
Beneath his feet, the soil crumbled, dry and bitter. Shadows drifted where they shouldn't. Sometimes they looked like people. Other times, they moved like animals. But every time Veer turned to face them, there was nothing.
He passed the skeletal remains of what once might have been a caravan — shattered wheels, burnt flags, half-buried blades rusted by time and blood. A shattered mask lay half-buried in dust. Veer crouched and picked it up, brushing off the sand. It was tribal, carved with symbols of fear. Not fear for the wearer — fear of what the wearer had become.
> [Area: Bhairav Plains — Cursed Zone]
[System Caution: Psychological and Spiritual Interference Detected]
[Stamina Drain: Active]
[Memory Integrity: Unstable — Manifestation Risk High]
[Recommendation: Anchor Self to Core Belief or Deity]
Veer breathed in. Slow. Deep.
He gripped the pendant around his neck and closed his eyes.
"Mahadev... I do not ask you to fight for me. I only ask that I do not forget who I am."
The wind stilled.
A distant rumble echoed across the plains — not thunder, but a deep moan, as if the earth itself had sighed. Veer opened his eyes. The mist parted slightly, revealing a structure ahead: a crooked temple, blackened with time, its spire cracked, yet still standing. Its gates were wide open. No guardians. No prayers. Only silence.
Veer approached slowly.
The walls were covered in ancient writing — not Sanskrit, but a language older than kings. The System translated what it could.
> "Here lies the gate of reflection. Enter not unless your soul is steady."
He stepped inside.
And the world shifted.
In an instant, the air grew dense. His limbs felt heavier. The torch he carried flickered and died. Yet there was light — faint, eerie — seeping from the carvings on the wall. Then came the voices. Soft. Echoing.
"You are not worthy."
"You will fall like your father."
"Power blinds. Just like it did before."
Veer's breath caught. The voices weren't just noise — they were familiar. The voice of doubt. The voice that had haunted his dreams in childhood. The ones that had told him he was nothing.
Then... he saw them.
Visions. Illusions. Ghosts.
A younger version of himself appeared before him — the boy in rags, running barefoot through a burning village. Screaming. Crying for his parents. Behind that boy, the image of his mother — eyes wide, arms outstretched, moments before the fire swallowed her.
Veer stepped back, his chest tight.
The illusion of his younger self turned to face him.
"You couldn't save us."
Veer clenched his fists.
"You ran."
The words struck like blades. Not because they were untrue — but because a part of him still believed them.
But then... he remembered. He wasn't that boy anymore. And even then — he hadn't run without reason. He had survived. Learned. Fought. He had become something that the fire could not burn.
He reached for his pendant. It burned bright — white now, not gold — and as he held it aloft, the vision trembled.
"I didn't run," Veer said quietly, voice like steel. "I lived. So I could one day protect others from ever feeling what I did."
The illusions screamed — high-pitched, painful — and dissolved into smoke.
> [Spiritual Check Passed — Inner Anchor Secured]
[Flame Resistance Increased]
[New Skill Acquired: "Inner Fortitude" — Immune to Fear-based Illusions]
Light returned.
And in that light, at the center of the ruined temple, lay something buried beneath stone and dust. A blade. Not forged of metal, but obsidian and bone. A relic. As Veer approached, the System flared with recognition.
> [Relic Discovered: Fang of Bhairav — Weapon of the Cursed King]
[Effect: Absorbs dark energy, converts into kinetic strikes]
[Caution: Corruption Risk — Use with Clarity]
Veer stood over the weapon, thoughtful. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat waiting to be awakened. He hesitated — but then reached forward. His hand closed around the hilt.
A jolt ran through his body — pain and clarity all at once. But his grip held firm. The trident on his palm glowed, balancing the energy.
He didn't reject darkness.
He commanded it.
> [Fang of Bhairav — Claimed by Flame-Bearer]
[Corruption Level: 0% — Controlled]
[Skill Integration Available]
With the weapon secured, Veer exited the temple.
The plains had changed.
The mist had parted slightly. The shadows no longer moved on their own. The land, though still cursed, seemed... quieter. As if it now recognized him not as prey — but as something greater.
Veer stood on the ridge, wind blowing through his dark hair, cloak fluttering like a banner. The Shivansh Pendant and the Fang both glowed — opposite forces now in balance.
He looked toward the horizon.
Nalgarh was near.
And this time, he would not arrive as a seeker.
He would arrive as a storm.