The morning mist clung to the soil like breath held too long, reluctant to let go. It coated the grass in pearls of dew, shimmering beneath the amber sun just beginning to stretch over the hills. Veer stood alone on a jagged rock that overlooked the valley below—his valley now, or so the elders had begun to whisper.
Behind him, the camp stirred slowly. Warriors sharpened blades, children tended to goats, and women began singing the morning hymns. But none of their eyes held fear anymore.
They held something deeper.
Expectation.
Veer closed his eyes, trying to drown the rising noise in his heart. Not the rustle of the wind, nor the hum of the waking forest—but the growing thunder of responsibility.
The Lupatha had sworn their loyalty. The Ranthari followed his word without hesitation. The Vakya System responded faster now, adapting to his thoughts, offering not just strength—but vision.
> [Daily Insight: Leadership is not dominion. It is the art of carrying others' hopes without crushing them beneath your own.]
That line cut deeper than any blade.
Because for the first time, Veer felt the fear of not being enough.
He walked back into camp with purpose in his stride and unease in his chest. Rahi met him by the central fire, flanked by two of her elite warriors. Her face, as always, betrayed little emotion, but her eyes studied him like he was a changing season.
"You're walking heavier," she said simply.
"I feel heavier," Veer admitted, brushing past her and motioning for the tribal council to gather. "We need to speak."
They assembled quickly—Rahi for the Lupatha, Kaka Rudra and Eila for the Ranthari, and two scouts who had returned from the east with troubling news.
One of the scouts unrolled a dirt-smudged parchment.
"It's true," he said, pointing at a red-marked circle on the map. "The Mirvans are mobilizing. They've set up siege posts across the mountain pass. We estimate over five hundred men."
Veer clenched his fists.
The Mirvans were brutal. Traders turned tyrants. They believed coin bought obedience—and when it didn't, they razed entire villages to the ground. Their soldiers wore jackal masks, and their weapons were always stained with someone else's blood.
"They're headed here," the scout continued. "Word has spread that the Nine Tribes are stirring again. That a king without a crown is rising."
Rahi smirked. "So we already have a name."
Veer remained silent.
Then asked, "Are the others coming?"
Eila, the Ranthari priestess, shook her head. "No word yet. The Kalyaks are too scattered, the Tharni too proud. The Mirvans will strike before the third tribe can be rallied."
A stillness fell over the council.
And then Veer said, "Then we move first."
Later that day, Veer stood before his gathered warriors.
Two tribes. Over 180 fighters. A dozen archers. Several trackers and scouts. And wolves.
The Lupatha wolves sat among the warriors, their fur blending with leather armor, their eyes glowing like dusk embers. Not pets. Partners.
Veer raised his voice.
"The Mirvans do not fear gods. They do not honor soil or spirit. They only believe in metal and fire. So we must show them that the soul of a people is stronger than their greed."
He looked to the archers. "Strike not to kill, but to paralyze."
To the wolves. "Target the legs. Break their advance."
To the warriors. "Do not fight for blood. Fight for the right to choose your path."
The wind picked up as if stirred by his words.
And above them, the birds took flight.
A sign.
They marched.
By sunset, Veer and his army reached the high ridge overlooking the pass. The Mirvan camp lay below—rows of black tents, shimmering spears stuck into the ground, and smoke rising from cooking fires.
Jackal masks hung like ornaments from wooden spikes.
But Veer saw more.
The slaves.
Dozens of them. Women, children, old men. Forced to carry water. To build ramparts. Bound by chains.
Veer's eyes narrowed.
> [Vakya Update: Target Prioritization Enabled. Slave Camps Identified. Chain Weak Points Highlighted.]
The system lit up weak spots in the enemy structure. Like a puzzle meant to be dismantled, piece by piece.
He whispered to Rahi beside him, "Get the wolves around the western flank. Tell them to avoid the campfires. They'll strike when the drums start."
"And the drums?" she asked.
Veer smiled grimly.
"I'll play them myself."
The battle began with silence.
A cold kind of silence.
Then—
BOOM.
The first drumbeat came not from an instrument, but from a boulder Veer rolled down the slope, striking a siege post.
BOOM.
Arrows rained from the trees.
BOOM.
Wolves howled. Not as beasts. As executioners.
Veer charged with his sword drawn. A curved blade gifted by Rahi herself—named Agni-Tantra, the Flame Thread. It glowed red as it cut through the first Mirvan shield.
Steel clashed. Sparks flew.
But Veer moved not like a soldier. Like a storm. He ducked low, spun beneath a spear, then struck at the knees. Not to kill—but to bring the giant down.
"Free the prisoners!" he roared.
The Vakya pulsed again.
> [Chain Restraints Broken: 12… 27… 41.]
All around him, fighters surged forward. Eila summoned a wave of mist using herbs. The wolves weaved through it like ghosts, tripping guards and dragging weapons from their hands.
Then, a Mirvan commander appeared.
Seven feet tall. Armor plated. Axe like a tree trunk.
"You're the boy who thinks he's a king," the giant snarled.
Veer raised his blade.
"I'm not a king," he replied. "I'm a voice they chose to follow."
The commander charged.
Their clash sent a shockwave across the field. Axe against blade. Metal shrieked. But Veer pivoted, let the weight pass him, and drove his knee into the giant's side. One strike. Two.
And then—
> [Critical Hit – Weak Spot: Left Knee Shattered.]
The commander collapsed, screaming.
The remaining Mirvans broke formation. They fled—masks falling, pride bleeding.
Veer stood over the fallen commander.
But didn't strike the killing blow.
Instead, he spoke loudly.
"This is not your land. And I am not your enemy. But if you ever return, the forest will swallow you. And the wolves will not show mercy."
By nightfall, the valley was quiet again.
Veer stood with Rahi atop the ridge, looking at the fires below. Not of war—but of celebration.
The freed captives ate beside warriors. The wolves rested among children. And the Nine Tribes? They were still two.
But two was more than one.
> [System Update – Third Tribe Interested: Tharni Scouts Detected Nearby.]
[Your legend echoes beyond the hills.]
Rahi looked at him sideways.
"You were never meant to be just a warrior."
Veer didn't answer immediately.
Then whispered, "I don't want to be a king."
"But you already are," she replied. "Not by crown. But by choice."