Chapter 317 - Arjun Rathore

The battlefield froze for a moment as the skull of the Warden was lifted high, blood dripping from its severed neck onto the shoulders of the black-haired man that held it.

The gazes of the Sun Bearers widened. Jaws dropped. The Xok’al hesitated—unison in their stillness, as if the swarm itself was unsure how to proceed. Mei, watching from above the platform, Camila, and even the Azcoyatl Priests accompanying them stood motionless.

There was a lingering silence, just a single heartbeat, pulsing through the snow, the blood, the corpses—stilling the air.

And then—

Shouts! Roars!

The Ajnal lifted their weapons, frenzy and fury in their eyes. Sparks crackled as a sonorous burst shattered the air, morale tilting in an instant as they charged forward with renewed vigour against the creatures that had taken the life of their General.

None held back. The few functioning EM cannons blasted non-stop as more and more Ajnal launched themselves from atop the wall—Lords of Sparks in the hundreds joining the fray.

The tide pushed the Xok’al back. They retreated. The Commanders fell back first, while the three- and two-tailed units were left behind to hold the line—a sacrifice for the benefit of the greater whole.

Alonso stood still a moment longer as the battle raged on, the ground beneath his feet vibrating, steam rising from the melting snow, mixing with trails of mud and blood.

He remained there, feeling the weight in his hands, the warmth of blood coating his arm.

He let the seconds pass.

Then exhaled.

He threw the skull again and cracked it open, absorbing the orb within.

Stage 1 – 20.378%

The gains were decreasing fast, just as he expected. With his current Stage Progress, four-tails would likely give him nothing now. Only Wardens could still yield a few more points—but not much.

He sent a pulse toward the floating platform far above.

“Mei, focus on retrieving the corpse of whatever shot General K’in. Coordinate with the Sun Bearers for assistance. Don’t let the Xok’al take it—or any of the Warden corpses—back.”

“Understood.”

Alonso then turned to the exact spot where Arjun had been killed—and rushed toward it.

The mountain face was steep and ragged, but held solid under his boots as he made his way to the spot.

But when he arrived, his eyes narrowed.

There was nothing.

Arjun’s orb was missing, and so were his coat and sniper. While the Xok’al could have consumed the orb, as he knew they usually did with their prey… did it also eat the gear?

He scanned the surroundings, but besides some footsteps in the snow—both from boots and from the Ajnal’s feet—there was no other mark or remnant of the encounter.

Alonso turned his face back to the battlefield below as he finally managed to get a direct sight of the creature. It felt weird, grotesque at first glance, but as he observed further, he noticed it was a Warden… but with a big difference. Instead of the five tails being independent, they had been fused together into a singular one, ending in a long barrel cannon, not much wider than Arjun’s own sniper.

Alonso didn’t have to recheck the Xayen records to be sure: a creature like that had never been mentioned. Xok’al had been classified based on the number of tails that directly translated to their martial prowess and intelligence, as well as hierarchy in the neural network chain… but for them to mutate? He thought all were roughly the same.

So what did this mean now? Should they be prepared for other Warden variants? And Wardens that improved in combat the more data they had?

Alonso kept watching the battle below as it neared its end, as Mei’s platform lowered and the Sun Bearers below secured the corpse.

But as he stared, one thing had become clear: they had to step up their game. Treating the Xok’al as just one more foe had been a great mistake. They were fighting a centralized, ever-growing, and self-improving army—one with numbers, power, and brains far ahead of what normal humans could match.

The Warden and the Xok’al army below them… were a threat that required more than just strength and clever tactics to beat. They needed to give it their all… or, just like Arjun, they would fall one after another.

Alonso walked back to the spot he estimated to be the place Arjun had been killed and crouched on the snow below.

He pressed a hand toward the earth and closed his eyes as he breathed the air and let the moment hit him. The idea of carving a grave passed through his head, but he quickly dismissed it. That’s not what he wanted.

That last bullet carried much more than that. A message—a weight he had thrust upon them… upon him.

So… could he carry that weight Arjun had entrusted to him? His life, his goal, his dreams?

Could he bear them… and carry them to the end?

He remembered Arjun’s details… Lukas had gathered them together one day when they all shared their family names, locations, and the people they cared about back on Earth—just in case one or more were to fall, so the ones who did make it out would assist the loved ones of the fallen.

So he knew them. His daughter Diya. His wife Shanaya. His parents back in Jaisalmer, India.

And he would not forget. Just as the others would not forget.

Alonso remained silent, head bowed for a moment longer, as he found the answer to his questions.

No… it was not meant to be questions. It wasn’t a matter of whether he could or could not. He just… had to.

He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

And stood up as he muttered, facing the cold winds. “I will carry it.”

Arjun closed his eyes as he felt the disconnection from his body.

No pain. Just silence—pure, absolute—rushing in like a wave.

The weight of limbs vanished.

Gravity lost meaning.

His thoughts flickered once, steady even now.

So this is it.

Then nothing—

He felt weight again. Smell. What?

He opened his eyes, and the rush of light struck them as he blinked. The gravity felt lighter here, his body more at ease.

He stared up and noticed the sky—clear and blue—and… wait, he knew this sky. Is this...?

He looked around. The place had changed. It felt foreign, perhaps more… sacred? But it was, without doubt…

Then he heard movement. His waves pulsed as he scanned the surroundings, hundreds of meters in all directions.

And his eyes opened wide. His heart skipped a beat, as pain and relief and desire and everything melded together in a feeling too strong to hold without a gasp.

Had he died? Was this the celestial abode—Svarga¹? Had he truly been blessed?

The thought alone nearly brought him to his knees, tears threatening to fall.

Footsteps reached him through the stillness, and as his waves swept out instinctively, they outlined familiar shapes.

This had to be… his Svarga.

He smiled.

He had never been a strong believer… did he deserve this?

Thank you, Indra. Thank you. He bowed repeatedly. He didn’t know how long his karma would allow him to stay before reincarnation, but… it was enough. More than enough.

However, it was unfortunate…

Even in this mystical realm, time still flowed all too slow. They were walking toward him—eyes opening wide—not far away, and yet… their steps were slow. Extremely slow.

But he didn’t care.

He smiled, as he matched their pace—as he forced his facial expression, his own step, even his breathing—to move in harmony with theirs.

He walked slowly toward them. Calmly.

There was no rush. No rush at all.

And then… he saw them.

Shanaya, holding little Diya in her arms.

His heart trembled.

Shanaya’s lips parted. She stared at him as if afraid to believe it—afraid the vision might vanish if she stepped closer.

Diya blinked, clutching her mother’s clothes, gaze curious and confused.

Arjun smiled.

Not the hardened, tactical smile of war or brotherhood, but the soft, private one only they had ever seen.

They stepped forward again.

He felt a flicker of tension—a slight apprehension from Shanaya, just for an instant—her head turned faintly at a sound far behind, a sharp cry, like something far and distant trying to call her back.

But she ignored it.

Without a word, she ran.

She threw herself into his arms without hesitation, holding Diya tight between them.

Arjun’s eyes widened.

He reacted at once, adjusting every muscle, every tendon. His body—far too strong for this world—now surrounded the most fragile people he had ever known.

He controlled every gram of pressure.

His arms closed around them with care, one hand lifting slowly, gently, all so slowly as if time itself strained to allow him this grace.

He reached her face—Shanaya’s—and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

His touch trembled.

He could feel the warmth of her skin.

He could smell her hair.

He could hear Diya’s heartbeat.

And it broke him.

Tears streamed down his face, hot and silent, as he smiled.

He held them both—wife and daughter—pressed against his chest, like something sacred, something he would never release.

No matter what.

No matter how long he was given.

He would hold them. Forever… if he could.

And yet, even in that stillness, in that unspeakable flood of emotion pouring through him like light through broken stone, something shifted in the field of perception.

He sensed it first—not with sight, but through the faintest tremble in the air, the soft rhythm of footsteps, the catch of a breath, and then the unmistakable resonance of familiar presence. His body, long attuned beyond human limits, registered them before his eyes fully adjusted—his parents, emerging from the far edge of the garden, their steps hesitant, as if uncertain whether they were welcome in the miracle unfolding before them.

His mother lifted both hands to her mouth, fingers trembling, eyes wide and glistening, staring at him like someone who’d found a lost soul. His father, usually the silent pillar of strength, stood motionless—neither smiling nor crying—caught between disbelief and awe, as though afraid to breathe.

More figures followed. Shanaya’s parents, walking slowly, hands clasped, their faces drawn tight with emotion, eyes fixed on him with the intensity of people trying to hold onto a vision. And then came his older brother—taller, broader, worn by the years—his face carved with shock as he led his wife forward.

Arjun saw them all, and something inside him broke open again, not from pain this time, but from the unbearable weight of grace.

They were all here.

He had not just seen his wife again. He had not just embraced his daughter. He had come back to all of them.

He bowed his head slowly, eyes closing as he breathed them in—not just the scents and sounds, but the waves of emotion that poured out from every soul present. Love. Relief. Uncertainty. Awe. Each person, each bond, real and whole and breathing. It was too much. He didn’t know how to speak. He didn’t know if he should speak, lest the words somehow shatter the illusion.

And yet, he had to say something. Anything.

So he turned again to Shanaya, and in a voice half-raw and unsteady, he asked, matching their speed and flow, “Where is she? Indra… I need to thank her. For letting us meet. For granting me… this.”

He watched her brows rise in confusion, her head tilting faintly before a soft laugh escaped her lips, almost involuntarily. She cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled, not the wistful, distant smile of a dream, but the grounded, warm smile of a wife seeing her husband come home.

“This isn’t Svarga, Arjun,” she said gently.

He blinked, stunned by the simplicity of the words. “What… what do you mean?”

“This is Earth.”

He stared at her, unsure if he had misheard or misunderstood. The sky overhead felt too clean, the air too soft, the land too whole. The aching in his chest, the loss of gravity, the silence—everything had felt like transcendence. But she was looking at him with such clarity, such certainty, that doubt cracked through the foundation of everything he had just accepted.

“Earth?” he repeated, the word catching in his throat.

She nodded, brushing a tear from his jawline with her thumb.

“You’re home, Arjun.”

He looked around again, trying to reconcile the perfection of the place with the name he had known since childhood. It felt like Earth—at least, some version of it—but then again, it had been so long. His mind reeled. His thoughts scattered. And slowly, his heart started to race—not with joy this time, but confusion. Disbelief.

“How?” he asked, voice barely audible. “I died. I felt it. My body… I—”

“You were in The Tower,” she said, her voice patient, soothing. “We know. But now… it’s over.”

He stood frozen in place. The words felt heavy, too large to hold all at once.

“Over,” he repeated.

Shanaya nodded again and looked over his shoulder at the others behind him, her expression softening as she drew Diya closer and let out a breath.

“Everyone who dies inside the Tower,” she said, “they come back. They return.”

His breath caught.

“No more fighting. No more struggle. You don’t need to survive anymore. You’re here. It’s done.”

He let the silence stretch.

Then, slowly, as the realization settled, a new question rose in his chest, bitter and sharp.

“What about Alonso?” he asked. “And the others? Are they still inside?”

Her face shifted slightly, and for the first time, her gaze broke away from his.

“They’re still inside,” she said quietly.

His chest slightly tightened, emotions clashing again.

“There’s someone here who can explain more,” she added after a pause, her voice low. “Someone from the government. They’ve been waiting to speak with you.”

Arjun gave a slow nod. He had sensed the man from the start—middle-aged, foreign-looking, standing just outside the house with perfect posture, an unreadable expression, and an elegant black suit.

But Arjun only shrugged, keeping his gaze on Shanaya. He could use some answers, sure, but—

“I’m sure that can wait,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her softly.

*[A/N: ¹ Svarga is a heavenly realm in Hindu cosmology, often described as a paradise where virtuous souls enjoy peace and pleasure before reincarnation.]