The sun hung low over the endless horizon as a lone carriage rolled to a stop before the colossal stone gates of Sherpur/lion city, the easternmost city of the Lightning Dragon Mandal.
Its polished frame gleamed under the afternoon light, carved with flowing sigils of clouds and lightning — marks that made the bustling crowd silently part to make way. None dared block the path of such a carriage, for its emblem — the piercing blade through clouds — was known to all. It belonged to the Cloud Piercing Sect.
Behind it, riding a weary white horse, was a young man with calm eyes and a faint scar beneath one of them — Ishan.After two months of endless wilderness and silence, he was finally witnessing the sight of human civilization again.
Sherpur stood like a fortress on the edge of the world — where the Abyssal Ravine split the land in two. Long ago, a mighty expert had built a single bridge across that chasm. Despite countless attempts, no one had been able to replicate his work; all other bridges had collapsed, leaving this one as the sole passage connecting east and west.
It was said that this ancient bridge was reinforced not with mortar, but with Vital Energy, condensed so deeply that even the storms of time could not shake it.
Because of this, Sherpur prospered from its tolls — yet few dared travel this road anymore.Ever since a certain notorious bandit group had taken control of the surrounding routes, merchants had chosen to risk longer paths through the west rather than venture here.
So when people saw a Cloud Piercing Sect carriage emerging safely from the bridge's mist, they stared in disbelief — as if a ghost had crossed into their midst.
Ishan noticed their wide eyes but didn't understand. He turned toward the old man seated within the carriage. The elder gave a quiet chuckle and said,
"You've no idea, do you? The bandits you destroyed a few days ago had terrorized the entire trade circuit. Only two forces could pass through here safely — the Boss family, a branch of the Royal Clan, and the Dwivedi family. The rest... avoided this route like plague."
Ishan frowned slightly, his mind processing the names.
"If I recall correctly, the Boss family is tied to the royal bloodline — so no one dares oppose them. But the Dwivedis... their strength rivals that of the Cloud Piercing Sect itself. Then how could those bandits flourish under their noses?"
Something about the situation didn't feel right.
The old man fell silent for a moment, thinking, then replied,
"You're perceptive. But suspicion alone proves nothing. I'll discuss this matter with the Master."
Ishan merely shrugged. Such politics didn't interest him; he had spoken only what reason demanded.
The young man's eyes wandered as they approached the towering gate — carved entirely of grey stone, nearly one hundred and fifty feet tall.Armored guards stood atop it, their spears gleaming, watching the road below with disciplined vigilance.
Among the crowds, men wore simple kurta-pajamas, lungis, and dhotis. Women draped themselves in saris and lehenga-chunis, their faces half-covered with veils. Children ran barefoot through the dust, some wearing plain cloth, others dressed in embroidered garments that marked wealth.
To Ishan, it felt like stepping into another era — an India that had never known machines, only steel, spirit, and silence.The houses were built of cut stone and carved bricks, some even rising two stories high. Shops lined the cobbled streets, displaying weapons, herbs, and strange glowing stones harvested from the Dark Forest.
Despite the crowd, the city carried a serene rhythm — no chaos, no shouting, only the calm hum of trade.Ishan smiled faintly. For the first time in weeks, his heart felt light.
Yet unseen, several pairs of eyes watched from the dense shrubs near the gate.
"How the hell did they survive that route?" one whispered."The Boss won't like this. We must report it — something's off."
And with that, the spies vanished into the forest.
Unaware, the Cloud Piercing Sect caravan entered the city and stopped before an inn adorned with their own crest. A wooden signboard hung above the doorway, etched with golden letters:
Cloud Piercing Inn
Ishan realized immediately that this place belonged to the sect itself.The old man — the caravan leader — stepped down, greeted by the inn's manager who bowed deeply.
"Lord X, Miss... welcome to this humble place," the manager said reverently.
The elder nodded.
"We'll stay the night. Prepare three rooms. And see that this young man receives clean clothes."
The manager's eyes flicked toward Ishan — the dust-covered traveler whose torn garments betrayed weeks of hardship. He nodded quickly, not daring to question the elder's command. Two attendants hurried away.
Ishan decided to stay put until his new clothes arrived. A short while later, they brought him a set of blue and white garments, finely stitched and marked with subtle patterns of lightning.He bathed, washing away the dirt and the smell of blood and sweat. When he dressed, his reflection in the mirror startled him — the face staring back was sharp, calm, and almost royal.
Just then, footsteps approached. It was Rashi, her veil fluttering as she entered. When she saw Ishan standing there, radiant in clean robes, her breath caught for a moment.
Before, his face had been hidden under grime and exhaustion; now, it was the face of someone far more refined — handsome in a quiet, effortless way.
Ishan noticed her gaze and scratched his neck awkwardly.
"What's wrong? Do I... have something on my face?"
Rashi blinked rapidly, cheeks flushing crimson. She turned her face away and stammered,
"M-Miss and Grandfather request your presence for dinner."
Ishan nodded and followed her through the lantern-lit halls into a spacious dining chamber reserved for honored guests.
Inside, the elder sat waiting. Opposite him, a girl was seated — her face veiled with thin silk.As Ishan entered, she lifted the veil, revealing a face so beautiful it stole his breath.Her skin shimmered like moonlit ivory; her eyes carried a soft depth that seemed to pull his soul into them.
He composed himself quickly, masking his surprise.The girl smiled gently and said,
"You have my gratitude. I am the one you rescued in the forest... the one inside the carriage."
Understanding dawned on Ishan. He inclined his head silently.
The old man leaned forward, studying him.
"May I know your name, young man?"
"I am Ishan Singhania, from Lightning Dragon City," he replied calmly.
The girl's eyes widened slightly.
"Singhania... You mean that Singhania family? The young master who vanished weeks ago? So, you were lost in the Dark Forest all this time?"
Ishan gave a faint nod. He hadn't expected his name to be recognized here.The old man's brows lifted in surprise, but seeing Ishan's reluctance to speak further, he dropped the subject.
Dinner passed quietly after that. When it was over, Ishan excused himself and stepped outside to explore the night.
Though memories told him of this world, he wanted to feel it himself.The streets were alive — filled with carriages, hawkers, and wandering merchants. But what drew his gaze most were the creatures.
Massive beasts with iron-scaled hides pulled carts laden with goods. Smaller, feathered ones perched on their masters' shoulders, chirping in strange tongues.Some were for sale, others tamed as mounts.
Ishan had expected this; after all, this was a world where dragons soared through clouds, phoenixes danced in sacred flame, and divine creatures roamed forgotten valleys.
He walked deeper into the market, where the smell of metal, spices, and blood mingled in the air.
This being the easternmost sub-city, it was also where most hunters brought their trophies from the Dark Forest — beasts, herbs, and sometimes, hidden treasures. Prices were low, but danger lingered in every deal.
He turned into a narrow alley when a sudden commotion erupted nearby.People rushed past him in panic.
"Move! Move! That demon's here again — with his monster! Run if you value your life!"
Dust rose in the air, swirling violently. Ishan turned toward the direction of the noise — curiosity flashing in his eyes.
Through the haze, he saw it.A shadow charging forward — huge, fast, and shrouded in dust.