Two years ago. Daansara Kingdom.
A land that centuries later would be called Iran.
The land was dry and uneven. Low hills rolled across the horizon broken by patches of cracked earth and stubborn grass. The wind moved dust lazily through the valley, unhurried, carrying nothing in particular.
Four figures stood facing the distant road between the hills. Three men and one woman, arranged in a loose row, strangely relaxed for people waiting for a picnic instead of war.
The youngest sat on a flat rock, lean and barely armored, tossing a small pebble into the air and catching it without looking.
His sword rested beside him in the dirt. He looked like someone waiting for a late friend. "Aren't they late?" he asked casually.
Behind him stood a massive man with thick arms and a wide chest, two swords crossed behind his back. He shrugged.
"They'll come before your brother does."
The woman nearby snorted, both hands resting on the pommel of a long two-handed sword she had planted in the ground before her. "He's a showman," she said. "Likes to show off his skills and his muscles." A small smirk. "Like a woman I know."
The bare-chested man beside her laughed sharply. "Says the one dressed like a savage."
Her eyes moved to him slowly. "What did you say?"
Before the argument could properly begin the youngest man stopped tossing his pebble and looked up. High above them an eagle circled, tilting its wings slightly. A cloud of dust had appeared on the distant road. He stood and brushed sand from his trousers. "They'll be here in a few minutes."
The woman frowned at him. "How did you manage that?" She nodded toward the eagle. "Shouldn't talking to animals be his job?" She pointed her sword lazily at the bare-chested man.
He scratched his neck. "I'm a Maanvar. I can turn into an animal. Just one. I can't talk to all of them."
The burly man tilted his head. "You mean you talk to some?"
All three looked at him now, waiting.
The bare-chested man shifted his weight. "Some animals."
"Which ones?" the youngest asked.
"Some animals."
"Which some animals?" the burly man pressed, stepping closer.
"Some. Some animals." His tone was moving steadily toward irritated.
The woman slammed her sword into the ground. The thunk of it ended the conversation cleanly. "He can't talk to animals."
"Yes I can!"
"Which ones?"
"Come on, don't you trust me?" He turned to the youngest. "Vijay. You know it, right? I can talk to some animals."
Vijay froze. Every eye shifted to him. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I honestly don't know what he's talking about."
"Traitor!"
The burly man crossed his arms. "He can't talk to animals."
" Of course I can." Protested the bare chested man .
"Proof?" Vijay and the burly man said it at the same moment. The argument rose fast, voices overlapping, until the woman pulled her sword from the ground and pointed it toward the road.
"Enough. We are at war. Not in a fish market."
Silence fell. They all turned.
The dust cloud had grown much larger.
The sound of hooves and marching feet carried faintly through the wind now. The four of them straightened without discussion. The bare-chested man cracked his neck. The burly man adjusted the straps on his back. The woman pulled her blade fully free of the earth. Vijay stepped down from the rock.
The dust rolled toward them like a moving wall, horses and banners and armor all hidden behind the thick brown haze. They watched it quietly. Then one by one they all turned toward Vijay.
The bare-chested man gestured with one hand. "Vijay, if you may."
Vijay sighed. "Of course." He raised one hand lazily and the air around them rippled, a faint shimmer spreading outward into a smooth dome of invisible force. The dust hit it a moment later and slid off like wind against glass.
The bare-chested man brushed his shoulders dramatically. "Why do they always arrive with dust." He flicked invisible dirt from his arm.
"How many?" the burly man asked.
Vijay squinted. "Around thirty thousand. Give or take one or two."
A short pause settled over all four of them.
"Thirty thousand?" the woman said. She tilted her head slightly. "Aren't they underestimating us a little too much?"
"Just a little," the burly man said.
"Feels insulting," the bare-chested man
agreed.
Vijay shrugged. "Very insulting."
They watched the approaching army. The army also looked back.
From the other side of the valley the sight was unusual enough to slow the front ranks without any order being given. Thirty thousand soldiers under iron banners, and waiting for them, four people.
The king of the western army rode at the center on a tall horse, heavy armor across his chest, a wolf-shaped helmet sitting low over his brow. Beside him an older commander with a deep scar across his cheek leaned slightly closer and lowered his voice. "My lord. They are the Five Rakshak of Daansara. The ones I warned you about."
The king didn't look away from the valley. "Five?" He leaned forward in the saddle. "I see four. Did the fifth lose his courage?"
The commander's eyes moved slowly across the four distant figures. Something in his expression tightened. "My king. We should prepare for an ambush."
The king turned sharply. "Ambush?" He scoffed and raised his sword high. "We are the great Axel Empire of the West. Odin himself granted us courage and land to conquer." His voice carried back through the ranks and the soldiers roared behind him. "A true warrior does not rely on ambush. He relies on strength." He pointed his blade forward and the army surged.
Thirty thousand soldiers rushed down the valley. The ground trembled under them.
On the hill the four warriors watched the dust rising again. The bare-chested man groaned and waved a hand in front of his face. "Can't we fight somewhere rainy for once?"
The woman snorted, swinging her massive sword up onto her shoulder. "Rain. In Daansara. Stop joking. There hasn't been rain in centuries." There was excitement flickering beneath the irritation in her face.
Vijay folded his arms. "When the gods were making Daansara they forgot to draw rain clouds." He pointed at the sky. "And forests."
The burly man glanced sideways. "Worried your fur will get dusty?"
The bare-chested man turned slowly. "My fur." His eyes narrowed. "Why don't I cover this entire field with your blood. Then dust won't be a problem."
The burly man grinned and cracked his knuckles. "You can try. But don't complain when I skin you alive."
The bare-chested man stepped forward.
The burly man met him. The woman slammed her sword between them and the ground shook with the impact. Both men froze. She looked at them. "Quiet. We are at war." She pulled the blade free. "Then let's war."
All four turned toward the charging army.
The noise of thousands of soldiers rolled toward them, weapons flashing, war cries building. The four warriors went quiet. Completely serious. The kind of serious that comes just before something irreversible.
Then the burly man muttered under his breath. "Dusty fur."
That was enough.
"THAT'S IT!" The bare-chested man lunged. The burly man met him halfway and they immediately started throwing punches. The woman grabbed both by the collar and started hitting them with the flat of her sword. "IDIOTS. WE ARE IN A BATTLE." They kept swinging anyway.
Vijay stood watching. He rubbed his face slowly then looked up at the sky.
"It's all up to you, brother."
Far above the valley, near the edge of a cliff where the setting sun turned everything red, a man stood alone.
He was lightly armored, broad shouldered, short haired. A fine mustache sat above a calm smile. A red tilak marked his forehead and around his neck hung a small pendant shaped like the trident of Lord Shiva. Red cloth bands wrapped around his bare wrists. In front of him rested a massive boulder at the cliff's edge. He looked at it quietly, then raised his fist.
The first punch cracked the stone, the second expanded it. He didn't stop. Each strike landed deeper than the last, calm and steady, lines spreading across the boulder's surface like lightning frozen in rock. When the base finally shattered the boulder stood still for one moment, then shifted, then fell. It rolled down the slope gathering speed, pulling smaller rocks with it, growing into a storm of stone descending toward the valley below.
The army of the Axel Empire was already charging when someone noticed. Too late.
The commander looked up first. "My king!" The king turned and saw the wall of rock rolling toward them. Without hesitation he jumped from his horse. "What a coward," he roared toward the mountain. "Throwing stones from hiding!" He gripped his warhammer, leapt high and swung with everything he had. The boulder split in two with a thunderous crack, both halves tumbling past him. The debris spread wide across the valley floor, forming a broken wall that blocked both the front and rear ranks. The king landed and raised his hammer. His army cheered as well.
Then the cheering stopped.
A soldier pointed upward. Another boulder, larger than the first, was already falling. The king jumped again, hammer raised.
The rock shattered into dozens of pieces but the fragments continued falling, raining down across the soldiers below, crushing armor and breaking formations. The king landed heavily. "WHO IS THIS COWARD," he roared. "COME AND FACE ME."
Then someone shouted. "Above!"
A figure was falling from the sky. A man, a heavy mace gripped in both hands, body angled downward like a thrown spear. The king moved to intercept but was too late. The man struck the ground in the middle of the army and the mace hit the earth with a sound that shook the valley. The ground cracked open beneath the impact, shockwaves spreading outward, men thrown off their feet, armor shattering, the front ranks collapsing into fractured ground. Dust exploded upward in a massive cloud.
When it settled, one man stood in the middle of it all. Mace resting against his shoulder. Completely calm, grinning.
DHIRA.
The soldiers around him stared. Surprise first. Then disbelief. Then something closer to fear. Dhira's mace swung once and a soldier flew sideways like he weighed nothing. Another swing shattered two shields simultaneously. Men scattered as the weapon tore through armor and bone, the ground cracking wherever it landed.
High above on the half broken boulder that had rolled down the mountain, four figures watched. The burly man grinned. The woman rested her sword across her shoulder. The bare-chested man stared at the battlefield below with a frown. "What a monster," he muttered.
The other three jumped down. The burly man shouted on the way. "Come down, dusty fur!"
"I'm not—" The bare-chested man jumped anyway.
Halfway down his body changed. Bones shifted. Muscles stretched. Fur spread across his skin and by the time his feet touched the ground he was no longer fully human. Half man, half cheetah. He shot forward the instant he landed, moving too fast for most eyes to follow. Soldiers dropped before understanding what had reached them, claws tearing through armor, fists connecting with faces, bodies scattering behind him as he ran through the ranks.
A blade came from behind and clipped his shoulder. The soldier rushed again. Two swords blocked it with a clang. The burly man stood there grinning. "Watch out, dusty fur." The cheetah-man growled. "I'll kill you someday." The burly man laughed and charged forward, both swords cutting through the ranks.
Not far from them the woman moved like a falling blade. Her massive sword swung once and two soldiers went down. Another swing took three more. Each strike was clean, each step deliberate, men rushing her together and finding it made no difference.
Vijay moved differently from all of them. He didn't hold ground. He leapt between broken stone and abandoned shields, tossing small glass bottles downward as he moved. They shattered on impact and strange fumes spilled out across the ground. One group of soldiers staggered clutching their heads. Another turned on each other in confusion. Some simply collapsed. Vijay landed from a high jump, raised one hand and released a pulse of invisible force that shoved every soldier within reach off their feet simultaneously.
A shadow dropped beside him. Dust jumped around the boots.
Vijay looked sideways. "Was that entry necessary?"
Dhira raised his mace and slammed it into the ground. The earth cracked and soldiers nearby fell flat from the shock. "A warrior should be perfect in everything," he said with a grin, swinging the mace sideways and sending a man flying. "Whether it's strength." Another soldier dropped. "Or entry."
Then something above the battlefield caught his eye. The enemy king was rising through the air, warhammer raised high, making his own entrance. Dhira's grin widened. "See?" He crouched. "That's what I'm talking about." He jumped.
Both warriors met in the air. Warhammer and mace collided and the sound that followed rolled across the entire valley like two mountains striking each other. Every soldier on the field stopped moving for a moment. Even the cheetah-man flinched and pressed a hand to his ear. "What a madman," he muttered.
When the dust cleared the king was flying backward through the air. He struck the mountainside and slid down the rock. Dhira came back down and landed with a heavy boom, stepping up onto a broken boulder and raising his mace high. The last light of the setting sun fell across him long and red.
Dhira roared as the day faded into night.
FlASHBACK END.