Folly of Wise Men

Chapter - 1 Silence

The man with vengeance swung his sword, and chaos followed.

Blood dripped from his sickle as the empire's soldiers cowered. Gone were the days when his ears felt the symphony of love.

Thousands of heads will fall for one of ours.

Those were the words that echoed in his ears as the sharp edge of his sickle itched to meet the necks of his enemies. They had underestimated him at first. Thought they could get away with it. But the illusion of his fragility drifted away at the moment of his retaliation.

He killed them from the shadows, becoming one with them, creating a silent terror that threatened to envelop them like mist.

"Protect the Mahanirakshaka,"

The Rakshakas, wielding long Divyalohini swords, found themselves in a difficult situation. Trapped by the narrow confines of the Haveli's hallway, they realized they cannot overpower him. They attacked suddenly, catching him off guard, but the intruder moved out of range and delivered a strike to the back of one of his enemy's neck. As the attacker fell, his blue turban slipped from his head, revealing his bald, light-brown scalp.

Another enemy aimed to end the vengeance with a single strike to the head. The intruder ducked and sliced the stomach open, causing the intestines to spill onto the ground.

Those who suffer to push the wheel of progress must answer violence with violence.

The intruder picked up a blue Divyalohini sword and advanced. He used that sword to pierce his enemy's chest, and the sickle to cut the hand of his comrade.

One who got stabbed by the sword turned into an ice statue, while the other wailed for his lost hand, reaching for it to reattach it to his arm.

The intruder dropped the blue divyalohini sword and picked up a red one and sliced the sobbing man on the back, setting his body ablaze.

The man's screams of anguish echoed through the hallway like a siren of doom, and his killer strode to the end of the hallway and set the door in fire.

Despite the flames scorching his skin, he took cover next to the door to avoid the line of firing. The firing went on, and as the intruder planned, none of those bullets met their target. Instead, they struck the walls and splintered them, showering the floor with broken stone.

Those bullets, crafted from divyalohini and inscribed with runes, reacted only to the living things. Which means they would have mutilated the intruder's body upon impact, causing a gory bath with shards of ice and thorny vines.

It took time for the gunmen to reload, and the intruder decided to use this opportunity. With catlike grace, he cut each of them down, painting the ornate room with entrails and ruby red.

The Mahanirakshaka of Rakshaka Vibhaga occupied a seat at his desk, and his daughter stood by his side, feeling great distress.

The man who burned for me could never do it. It has to be a misunderstanding.

The belief that it was a misunderstanding shattered by the sight of the bloodstained sickle in her lover's hand.

"Indra... why... why are you... holding that weapon?" she asked, uncertain as a sickening feeling formed in the pit of her stomach.

"Why do you think, Deepali?" Indra asked in a voice devoid of any feeling or emotion.

He used to sound so sweet, so gentle, like an autumn breeze. Why did it come to this?

"Spare her! You want me! I was the one responsible for the massacre," Virendra begged.

"What about my family, Veerendra? What about those children? Did you give them a chance? Did you?" Indra said, his voice laced with rage. "You didn't! For you, the lives of the sullied are worthless."