The fires from the purification of Ranthari Canyon still smoldered in Veer's memory as he walked ahead of the tribe's survivors. Behind him, the once-possessed people of Ranthari shuffled forward, blinking against the sun they hadn't seen in years. Some cried openly; others simply stared, haunted, at the trail ahead. No words passed between them—not yet. Silence was still easier than trust.
Veer understood that kind of silence.
He, too, had walked out of fire and ruin once, carrying only grief and a name.
The sky above was no longer hostile. The clouds had shifted from ash to pale gold, and the winds carried the scent of dry earth and clean air. Birds circled lazily high above the cliffs. Even the System was silent now, as though it understood the sacred stillness of a people reborn.
Yet Veer's thoughts were not still.
They spun—around the vision of the Whisper-Keeper, around the cursed monolith, and most of all… around the name the System had shown him during the battle's final moments:
> Vakya.
> Meaning: Word of Truth.
> Origin: Unknown.
Veer had accepted the System long ago. He had embraced its help, its gifts, its nudges toward survival and power. But he had never questioned its name. Until now.
That name had not been given by the gods or the tribes. It had named itself.
Why?
As the tribe made camp near the riverbend that cut across the canyon's edge, Veer walked away quietly. The river was shallow here, but clean. Small fish darted through the reeds, and the occasional frog chirped from the edge. He knelt, cupped water in his hands, and splashed it across his face.
"Why did you choose that name?" he asked aloud.
For a moment, there was only the wind.
And then—
> [System Response: Query Acknowledged]
> Vakya – Sanskrit Root: "Vāk" – Divine Speech / Word of Power
Chosen due to compatibility with Host's core intent: Truth Through Action.
Note: Host's spiritual alignment with Lord Shiva has reinforced this designation.
Veer stared at the words as they shimmered before him.
Truth through action.
Was that what he had been doing all this time? Not just surviving—but speaking truth through every blade stroke, every decision?
A memory flashed—of his parents. His father's last words. His mother's eyes, wide with pain and love. The fire. The ash.
And Veer running.
Always running.
"No," he whispered. "I don't want to just run anymore. I want to build something. I want the world to know my name—not in fear, but in truth."
The System pulsed again.
> [System Trait Evolution Suggested – "Child of Ash" → "Voice of Flame"]
[Effect: Leadership-based abilities unlocked. Bonus charisma with freed tribes and orphaned individuals.]
Veer accepted the evolution.
And something within him shifted.
Not his body. Not his strength.
But his presence.
When he returned to the camp, the tribe looked at him differently. The elders rose, not to challenge, but to honor. Children reached out, not in fear, but in awe. A woman placed a garland of dried canyon flowers around his neck.
"You have returned our name to us," one of the elders said, her voice like gravel softened by time. "But who are you, firebearer? What name do you claim?"
For a moment, Veer said nothing.
Then he stepped up onto a large stone, where the sun struck his face and cloak.
"I am Veer," he said, voice calm but unshaking. "Son of no clan. Raised by fire. Guided by Vakya—the Word of Truth. I carry no banner, but I will carry your burdens."
He looked over them, this broken tribe now free.
"And one day, I will carry them all. I will unite the nine. Not to rule, but to protect. To end the age of scattering. To begin something new."
The silence after his words was profound.
Then a cry rose—one child, then another.
"Veer! Veer! Veer!"
And slowly, like the stirring of an ancient drumbeat, the tribe began to chant with them. His name, spoken not as a title, but as hope.
That night, the tribe feasted.
They cooked what little they had. Meat, root vegetables, herbs found growing wild near the spring. Songs were sung—broken and forgotten in parts, but real. Human. One of the elders even retrieved a small wooden flute and played a haunting melody from the time before the Whisper.
Veer sat among them, smiling, but quiet.
Until an old man sat beside him.
"You do not speak much, for one who burns so brightly," the man said.
Veer chuckled. "Fire only speaks when needed."
The man nodded, stroking his long, grey beard.
"There is a legend," he said slowly, "of a king who would unite the scattered. Not by sword alone, but by heart. A man with no lineage, but all bloods in his soul."
Veer looked at him. "I've heard many stories. That one always sounded too good to be true."
"All good stories do," the man smiled.
Then, quietly, he handed Veer something wrapped in old silk.
Veer unwrapped it to find a carved wooden emblem. Nine circles—interlocked, not separated.
"What is this?"
"The symbol of the Nine Tribes, before we broke apart. Before the gods turned away and left us with silence. This was passed down from our last chieftain before the Whisper came."
The elder closed Veer's fingers over it.
"I think… it belongs to you now."
That night, Veer sat alone again, watching the stars.
He held the emblem in one hand, and a burning branch in the other. The flames danced, soft and golden, in his eyes.
"Vakya," he said aloud.
> [System Active – Awaiting Command]
"Help me speak truth. Not just in battle—but in what comes next."
The System didn't answer with words.
But in the distance, Veer heard the howl of wolves—clear, strong, not a threat, but a call.
Another tribe.
Another path.
Another burden.
And he was ready.