Vid's lungs burned as he ran, his bare feet cutting through wet roots and fallen leaves. The night wind howled like a grieving mother, carrying the smell of rain and blood. Every breath hurt, every step tore at his skin — but he didn't stop. He couldn't.
Somewhere beyond the dark forest lay the Temple of Lord Vishwa, the only place left that still felt like hope.
Behind him, the cries of the Preds echoed through the trees, their heavy roars shaking the ground. Above, thunder rolled across the sky — the storm that Thundra had summoned still raging. Each flash of lightning lit the forest like white fire, revealing Vid's tear-streaked face.They weren't from the rain — they were from the memories he couldn't escape.
He saw his mother — her soft hands, her voice that always calmed his hunger."Vid," she used to whisper, "you carry a strength inside you that you can't see yet. One day, you'll be needed. One day, you'll rise."
But she never lived to see that day.
The Rakshas northern army had attacked their village like wild beasts. He could still see the fire, the screams — his mother shielding his younger brother as their hut burned down. His father had pushed him out, shouting for him to run. He did. But when he looked back, his whole world was gone — his mother's body, his brother's cries, his father's last stand.
Vid fell to his knees as the memory hit him again. His palms scraped against the mud, blood mixing with rain. The shadows seemed to twist into faces — his family's faces — staring at him in silence.Accusing. Asking.
"Why are you still weak, Vid?""Why couldn't you save us?"
He struck the ground, his voice breaking as he shouted into the storm."Lord Vishwa! Why didn't you save them? Why didn't you save me?!"
The forest didn't answer — only thunder.
Then he remembered his father — tall, strong, eyes sharp as steel. His father had taught him how to hold a bow, even when his arms were too weak to pull it."Strength doesn't guide an arrow, son," he used to say. "Will does."
When the Rakshas came, his father fought with nothing but a rusted sword. Vid had watched, hiding behind a bush, as his father killed three soldiers before falling to a spear. Even dying, he had faced them standing tall.
That memory burned in Vid's heart. His mother's love, his father's courage, his brother's laughter — all of it pushed him forward.
He got up and ran again, faster this time.
Branches whipped at his face, but he didn't stop. The temple's pull grew stronger with every step. He could feel something holy calling him — a faint warmth in the cold storm.But the Preds were close too. Their growls shook the earth, mocking him.
One of them roared, the sound like thunder tearing the sky apart.They were hunting him — not because he was strong, but because he was weak.
Fear crept in again. He was just a sixteen-year-old boy — thin, tired, broken.How could he fight monsters like these?
Then he remembered Paras, the old soldier from his village. When the Rakshas came again, Paras had stood alone in front of the children with nothing but a broken spear. His hands trembled, his legs barely held him, yet he fought — shouting, swinging, bleeding — until he fell. But his courage had given the children time to escape.
Vid had never forgotten that day.If a frail old man could face an army, why couldn't he face his fear?
That thought lit a spark inside him.
Through the thinning trees, he finally saw it — the Temple of Lord Vishwa.Its tall spires rose like ancient mountains, worn by time but still proud. A stone bird knelt before it, glowing faintly in the lightning.
Vid fell to his knees again — not from exhaustion this time, but from emotion.He clasped his hands together and whispered, "Lord Vishwa… I promised I'd become the strongest archer. I promised to protect them. But I can't. Not like this. Not as I am."
He pressed his forehead to the ground. "Please… if you're real, give me strength. Don't let their deaths be for nothing. Don't let Vick fight alone. Don't let me be nothing!"
The thunder split the sky.For a heartbeat, the world fell silent — no wind, no sound, no rain.
Then Vid felt it.Not from above — but within him.A small warmth. Weak, but alive.
It wasn't the god's voice. It was his own.
His own will refusing to die.
Vid rose again, shaky but alive, tears mixing with the rain. His heart beat harder, his steps grew faster. The Predhs were right behind him, their roars echoing through the trees — but he didn't look back.
For the first time, he wasn't running away.He was running toward something —Toward Lord Vishwa.Toward his promise.Toward his destiny.
The forest opened up. Moonlight touched the temple gates — and for a moment, he felt peace.
Then, from the darkness, a Predh lunged.Its claws grabbed his arm, dragging him off his feet. Vid screamed as pain shot through him, the creature's grip like iron. The Pred's face loomed close — eyes glowing red, teeth bared in a grin.
"Pathetic," it hissed, pulling him back into the shadows.
Vid kicked, struggled, but its strength was monstrous. The world spun as he fought to breathe.Yet even as he screamed, far across the field, another battle raged — one that would decide the fate of all.
The Clash of Thunder and Arrows
Thundra, the giant among the Preds, raised his arms to the sky.Clouds twisted into a dark spiral, lightning crawling across the heavens.With a roar that split the night, he sent bolts crashing down — each one strong enough to shatter mountains.
Across from him stood Vick Belson, bow in hand, eyes steady. His cape fluttered in the storm.Though battered, he drew his bow with calm focus.
"The Thousand Arrows of the Calm Dragon!"
Light erupted from his bow — not one arrow, but thousands. They gathered above, forming the body of a massive dragon made of glowing arrows. Its scales shimmered, its eyes burned like emerald fire. With a deafening roar, it dived, unleashing storms of flame and light.
The battlefield exploded. The dragon's flames tore through the Pred army, each arrow burning through their bodies. Forest trees caught fire, the ground shook, and the air filled with screams.
When the flames faded, the field was littered with fallen beasts.
Only Thundra remained standing.
The demon's skin crackled with lightning, his grin wild. The storm itself seemed to move with his will.
Vick lowered his bow, sweat glistening on his brow. He had expected this.No ordinary power could defeat Thundra.
"I am Vick Belson," he said, his voice clear even through the storm. "And tonight, I'll carve my name into the sky. A demi-god archer versus a thunder-born demon — let this be my legend."
Thundra's deep laughter rolled like thunder. "At last… a human worth killing."
And then, silence. The kind that comes before disaster.
They moved at once.
Vick fired three arrows in the blink of an eye. Thundra caught them with his claws, each one bursting into sparks on impact.Lightning flashed. Fire burned.The world itself seemed to crack.
Thundra struck back — his arm swinging down like a storm's hammer. The bolt split the ground, ripping trees apart. Vick leapt away, his cloak trailing, and returned fire with divine precision.
Arrow after arrow. Bolt after bolt.Light clashed with lightning, fury with faith.The sky became their battlefield.
Meanwhile, Vid still fought the Pred that dragged him.He heard the roars in the distance — the sound of gods and monsters colliding — but he couldn't look away from his own battle. The claws tore into his skin; his body screamed in pain.
The Pred laughed, tightening its hold."No god will save you, boy. The weak are meant to die."
Vid's tears burned, but something in him snapped.He thought of Paras, the old man who stood against soldiers with nothing but courage.If Paras could fight, so could he.
"I promised…" Vid whispered, blood running down his arm. "I promised I'd become the strongest archer… and I won't give up!"
His voice shook, but his will did not.
Back on the battlefield, Vick and Thundra clashed again — harder, faster, with everything they had.Arrows split the clouds. Thunder ripped the earth.
The sky itself trembled.
The dragon's fire met the storm's wrath, and for a second, the world turned white.When the light faded, the valley was torn apart. The ground cracked, trees burned, rivers steamed.
Vick stood bleeding, his armor broken but his eyes still sharp.Thundra's arms smoked from burns, yet his grin only widened.
"Yes!" the demon roared. "Show me your true power, archer! Make me believe you're worth the storm!"
Vick lifted his bow again, glowing with divine light."I am the arrow of Lord Vishwa," he said softly. "And I'll tear your thunder from the sky."
The storm screamed again as their final clash began —Fire against lightning, will against chaos,A demi-god and a demon locked in battle beneath the broken heavens.
And far away, a boy named Vid ran — not from fear, but toward destiny.