CHAPTER 169: WHO ARE YOU?

A portal of swirling black fog ripped open in front of the ruins of the Temple of Vedangiri, distorting the air with a deep hum. From within, a lone figure emerged—Aamir.

He stepped out, boots landing on the cracked stone, his cloak brushing against the ancient ground. His crimson eyes scanned the horizon.

"Finally... I’m here," he muttered, his voice echoing faintly against the silence of the dead land.

Before him stood what was once a grand temple—a monument of faith and power—now reduced to a field of shattered pillars, collapsed arches, and moss-choked stones. The wind whispered through the ruins like the voices of ghosts that had never left.

"This... should be the oldest part of Vedangiri," Aamir said, rubbing the back of his neck. "If I remember right... this place is older than any map. If there’s anything about Zorwath, it has to be here."

He walked forward, his boots crunching against loose gravel. His sharp gaze studied every crack and broken wall, searching for symbols, clues, anything that stood out.

Nothing.

Just silence.

Aamir frowned, frustration building. "Man, this isn’t right. There’s nothing here about Zorwath. Not even a damn scratch on the wall."

He kicked a piece of rubble away, the sound echoing hollowly.

Then—he froze.

"Wait..."

His eyes narrowed. He raised his hand, and a crimson glow pulsed through his pupils.

[Appraisal]

The world shifted for a moment—colors drained, and the ruins shimmered with faint outlines that only he could see. His gaze locked onto something strange: a faintly glowing sigil buried under a pile of broken stone.

Aamir crouched down and smirked. "Bingo. Knew you’d be hiding something."

He shoved the rubble aside, revealing a trapdoor made of blackened steel, its surface engraved with old runes. He placed his hand on it, feeling the cold metal vibrate faintly beneath his palm.

"A hidden entrance... underground, huh? Guess this is where the fun starts."

He gripped the handle and pulled.

CLANK.

The trapdoor creaked open, releasing a gust of stale, cold air that smelled of earth and old ash.

"Great. Smells like a grave." He grinned anyway. "Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding, Zorwath."

With a step forward, he descended.

The moment his foot touched the first stone step, the darkness shifted.

FWOOSH!

A torch ignited on the wall. Then another.

And another.

One by one, like a chain reaction, fire sprang to life down the long, spiraling staircase, illuminating carvings etched into the walls—ancient symbols, depictions of monstrous beasts, and... Zorwath’s sigil.

Aamir’s smirk widened.

"Oh... now we’re talking."

He brushed his fingers along the carvings as he descended. "These markings... this isn’t just history. This is a warning."

Luman’s voice echoed in his mind, calm but wary. "Be cautious, Aamir. These ruins were abandoned for a reason. What lies below may not welcome you."

Aamir chuckled. "When do they ever welcome me?"

He reached the bottom of the stairs, where a massive stone door stood, sealed with chains made of black iron. A faint crimson glow seeped from the cracks around it.

Aamir tilted his head. "Sealed doors. Old torches lighting on their own. Creepy death-vibe. Yep. Definitely Zorwath’s style."

He cracked his knuckles, placed his hand on the door, and grinned.

"Alright, old man. Let’s see what you left behind for me."

With a deep breath, he pushed—and the chains shattered like glass. The door groaned and slowly opened, revealing a vast underground chamber, bathed in dim red light.

At the far end of the chamber, an altar stood.

And above it...

A giant mural of Zorwath himself, his monstrous form carved into the stone, his many eyes seeming to follow Aamir’s every move.

Aamir raised an eyebrow. "Oh... this just got interesting."

Aamir stared at the underground city, his footsteps echoing in the silent streets of what was once Vedanpur.

"What... how did this even end up under here?" he muttered. "And what are the odds... that a new city was built above it... and named Vedangiri?"

The eerie quiet gnawed at him. His boots crunched over the ancient stones until he spotted it—

A house.

Or what was left of one. Its walls were charred, the wooden frame rotting away, and the door was little more than a splintered husk hanging by rusted hinges.

Aamir’s breath caught.

"This... I’ve seen this place before," he whispered. "Vyuk... he mentioned it. The place where they lived... before everything burned."

He pushed the door open with a loud creak and stepped inside. The air smelled of old smoke and stone.

And then—

Someone was there.

A man stood in the center of the ruined house, his back straight, his physique solid and imposing despite his age. He looked to be in his forties, his long black hair brushing against his shoulders. His sharp eyes locked onto Aamir’s the moment he entered.

"So... you’ve come," the man said, his voice calm but heavy with something deeper. "I’ve been waiting for you here for a very long time."

Aamir’s body tensed instantly. His hands clenched into fists, aura surging around him.

"Who the hell are you?"

The man raised a hand, unthreatening. "Wait. Don’t bother fighting. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t even have seen me coming. But killing... is not my expertise."

Aamir didn’t lower his guard completely, but he loosened his stance—just enough to speak.

"Then talk. Who are you? And how do you know me?"

The man chuckled softly. "Oh, Aamir... I know you very well. I know everyone. Everything. And we’ve met before."

"What?" Aamir frowned. "No. I’d remember someone like you."

"Would you?" The man smirked. "Perhaps not. I looked... different back then."

Before Aamir could respond, the man’s face began to change. His features shifted like liquid, hair shortening, jawline tightening—until a familiar face stood before him.

Aamir’s eyes widened.

"Kiyoshi...? You’re Kiyoshi?!"

"Yes..." the man said, and then added with a smirk, "And no."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Kiyoshi... doesn’t exist," the man replied. "He was nothing but a mask. A disguise I wore to keep an eye on you."

Aamir’s heart pounded. "Then who are you really?"

The man’s form shifted one last time, settling into his true face.

"I am Klain."

"...Klain?"

"Yes." Klain’s gaze burned with a strange mix of power and certainty. "And Aamir... I know what you want. You want to defeat Zorwath. You want to understand him. But right now..." He shook his head. "You are far from ready."

Aamir stepped forward. "If you know something about Zorwath, then tell me. I—"

Klain interrupted with a raised hand. "No time for questions. You want answers? You’ll get them. But first, you must follow me. There are places... far beyond this earth. Places even Zorwath fears. If you stay here, you’ll be crushed before you can even stand against him."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Aamir demanded.

Klain’s expression hardened. "I’ll explain... but not here."

Suddenly—

BOOM!

The ceiling above them exploded, stone and dust raining down. Three figures descended from the breach, their auras suffocating, their killing intent sharp enough to cut the air itself.

Aamir’s system blared in warning.

[WARNING: Threat level — Catastrophic.]

One of the generals lunged straight for Aamir—faster than lightning.

But before he could strike, Klain’s hand grabbed Aamir’s shoulder.

"Not today," Klain whispered.

And in a blink—

They vanished.

The general’s claw tore through empty space.

The underground city fell silent once again, but Aamir’s aura—his very presence—had disappeared from the world.

Klain had taken him... elsewhere.

Parkh stood in the ruins, his sharp gaze sweeping the area where Aamir had been only seconds ago.

"What... where is he?" Parkh growled, his voice low but dangerous.

The second general, a tall man with jagged scars running down his face, clenched his fists. "We don’t know, sir. His presence... it vanished completely. It’s like he doesn’t exist on this plane anymore."

The female general, her serpentine eyes narrowing, hissed, "Yes, sir. I sensed it too. I think... he used some kind of teleportation technique."

Parkh turned his head sharply, his aura flaring with irritation.

"No," Parkh said coldly. "That boy doesn’t have a technique like that. There isn’t a single human ability that can erase someone from the world this completely."

He looked at the broken ground, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"This... was the work of the other man. The one who took him."

The female general tilted her head. "You mean... that strange one?"

"Yes," Parkh replied, his tone dark. "He didn’t feel human. His aura... it was something else. He must be one of them."

The three generals exchanged glances—an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Without another word, Parkh raised a hand. Black mist enveloped the trio, and in an instant, they vanished.

When the fog cleared, they were kneeling in the grand throne hall of the corrupted Aryavrata palace.

Before them sat Zorwath—his monstrous presence filling the chamber like an ocean of darkness. His head rested lazily on his hand, but his glowing twilight eyes burned with amusement.

Parkh lowered his head and spoke.

"My lord... he got away."

For a moment, silence.

Then—Zorwath laughed.

A deep, rumbling laugh that made the very walls tremble.

"Of course he did," Zorwath said, his voice echoing through the hall. "He’s mine. He wouldn’t die so easily. And if he’s running..."

Zorwath leaned forward slightly, his smile sharp as a predator’s.

"...then I’ll make him come back."

"How, my lord?" the female general asked carefully.

Zorwath’s eyes gleamed with cruel delight.

"I’ll burn his world. One piece at a time. His precious humans... his so-called loved ones... I’ll tear them apart until he has no choice but to crawl back to me."

The air in the throne hall grew heavier, suffocating.

Zorwath’s gaze shifted to Parkh and the other two generals.

"You may go now," he said, his tone like the swing of an executioner’s axe.

"Yes, my lord," Parkh answered, bowing deeply.

In a single movement, the three generals vanished from the hall, their shadows swallowed by the darkness.

Zorwath sat back on his throne, tapping a clawed finger against the armrest, his grin widening.

"Run all you want, Aamir..." he murmured. "I’ll break your world until you have nowhere left to run."