Shadows Before the Storm

Night had finally settled over the valley, casting a calm blanket across the land that had just witnessed destruction and chaos. The war was over—at least for now. The winds were gentle, the stars quiet, but the earth still carried the scars of the battle. Broken stones, charred soil, and faint traces of demonic energy lingered like ghosts refusing to move on.

Rudra walked through the forest path slowly, tired and unsteady. The new demonic power he had awakened was gone for the moment, sealed back in his blood. Only fatigue—and a lingering sense of fear—remained. His clothes were torn, his arms bruised, and every breath he took felt heavier than the last.

He looked at his wrist.

The bracelet was gone.

Completely.

Only a faint dark mark remained, like a burn imprint around his skin.

“Why… why did it all happen so suddenly?” Rudra whispered to himself, his voice hoarse. “What even am I now?”

His head still buzzed with the memory of that voice—deep, ancient, echoing from within his soul. A power far darker than anything he had imagined. A lineage that he never asked for.

But the people… his friends… everyone was safe.

For now.

Rudra sighed deeply.

Home was close. He could already see the dim lantern light glowing from the windows of his small house. When he stepped inside, the warm, homely smell of rice and wood soot greeted him. For a moment, he felt at peace.

He dropped onto the bed instantly, muscles relaxing for the first time in hours.

“Just… a moment of rest,” he murmured.

And within seconds, he drifted into a deep sleep.

Far away from the village, in the shattered warfield, Valmiki sat cross-legged on a raised stone platform. He had cleaned the battlefield using sacred winds and chants, but his mind was far from peaceful.

The moon shone brightly above him, and his aged face seemed carved with fresh worry.

“Kaalnemi is gone,” he whispered, “but the darkness he served… is not.”

Valmiki slowly closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips together, entering a meditative state. His body glowed faintly with golden light.

Within his mind, visions appeared—shadows moving through the void, monstrous shapes whispering in unknown tongues, a flickering prophecy, and finally…

Rudra standing in an ocean of black flames.

Valmiki’s breath tightened.

“The Abyssal Flame Demon… after centuries, one has awakened again. And not just any—Rudra is special. His aura is unlike any demon of the old world.”

He opened his eyes, determination hardening in them.

“More enemies will come. Greater forces will rise. I must prepare—so that when the next storm arrives, Rudra will not face it alone.”

The sage joined his palms and began chanting powerful mantras, summoning ancient cosmic energies. His body floated an inch above the ground, glowing brighter and brighter.

He had no time to rest.

Because Valmiki knew one terrible truth:

Aghori was still alive.

And preparing something far worse.

Deep beneath the ruins of the battlefield, in a cave filled with black water and decaying bones, Aghori sat hunched over a massive stone altar. His body was broken, torn, and bleeding. Rudra’s single punch had nearly destroyed him.

But Aghori’s grin was still wide. Broken teeth and all.

“That boy… that power…” he growled, blood dripping down his chin. “A demon prince… awakened after centuries.”

Aghori dipped his hand into a large cauldron full of thick, black liquid. It hissed like acid, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he smeared it across his wounds.

His flesh bubbled and twisted, regenerating slowly.

“I cannot defeat him as I am,” Aghori whispered. “But I don’t need to. Not yet.”

He tapped the sides of the altar and muttered an incantation. The entire cave shook as several stone slabs slid open, revealing monstrous shapes lying dormant inside sealed pods.

Each creature was deformed, twisted, their bodies pulsing with half-formed life.

Aghori’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

“These are only prototypes… rough… imperfect. But with Kaalnemi gone, I am free to accelerate my own creation.”

He stabbed his finger into his chest, drawing out a drop of thick, black blood.

“That boy’s demon aura… I tasted it. I can use it.”

He dropped the blood into the cauldron.

The liquid erupted into flames, glowing crimson and violet—the same colors as Rudra’s demon form.

Aghori laughed, a horrible, bone-rattling sound.

“With this essence, I will create an army capable of swallowing the human world whole.”

He raised his hands, chanting furiously.

The sleeping monster pods began to shake violently. Their silhouettes grew larger, stronger, more twisted.

One pod cracked.

Then another.

And another.

Aghori spread his arms wide.

“Yes… YES! My soldiers rise!”

His voice echoed through the twisted underground hollow.

“When the time is right… we will march. And Rudra—my wonderful, powerful, perfect demon prince—will finally fall to fear. And when he does… I will consume him.”

Rudra tossed in his sleep.

His dreams were not peaceful.

Flames—black and violent—surrounded him.

A voice whispered from the darkness:

“You are not weak.”

“You are not human.”

Rudra looked at his reflection in the flames.

He wasn’t himself.

He saw the horns. The blazing eyes. The shadowy fire.

The demon within.

“No… I’m not like them,” he whispered.

The voice laughed.

“Then why did you enjoy the power?”

Rudra froze.

“No—I didn’t—”

“Why did it feel natural?”

Rudra’s throat tightened.

The voice became deeper, darker:

“Your destiny is written in blood. You cannot run from it.”

Rudra screamed—

—and woke up suddenly, drenched in sweat, chest heaving.

The room was silent.

But he couldn’t escape the echo of that voice.

Was he losing control?

Was the darkness inside him growing stronger?

Rudra pressed his hands against his face.

“Valmiki sir… I need answers. I need help.”

He stood up slowly.

Because one thing was clear:

This was only the beginning of something far greater.

At dawn, Valmiki appeared at Rudra’s doorstep, breathing heavily, his aura flickering from intense meditation.

“Rudra,” he said urgently, “you must come with me. Immediately.”

Rudra nodded, sensing the weight in his teacher’s voice.

“What happened?”

Valmiki looked directly into his eyes.

“The war you ended yesterday… was only the first wave.”

Rudra’s blood ran cold.

“And Aghori,” Valmiki continued, “is preparing something catastrophic. Dark energies rise across the land. Monsters are forming. Something terrible is coming.”

Rudra clenched his fists.

“I’m ready to fight.”

Valmiki shook his head.

“No. You are not. Not yet.”

He placed a hand on Rudra’s shoulder.

“We must train you to control your demon form… before it controls you.”

Rudra swallowed hard.

Aghori creating an army…

His demon blood awakening…

Valmiki preparing for a greater war…

The world itself shifting toward chaos…

This was the calm before the storm.

And Rudra knew—

The real war was yet to begin.