Focus: Rohan's Physical Ascension & The Secret of the Ancient Guardians
While his friends were lost in visions of spirits and geometry, Rohan's dream was much simpler. It was a dream of Steel.
He found himself standing alone on a vast, endless battlefield of red clay. The sky was an angry purple, and the horizon was filled with the silhouettes of towering stone titans. He wasn't floating. He wasn't glowing. He was just Rohan, holding a rusted, chipped sword that felt far too light for the gravity of this place.
"Alright," Rohan grunted, tightening his grip on the hilt. "I know how this works. Spirit? Goddess? Math-man? Come on out and tell me I'm the 'Chosen One' already so I can go back to protecting my friends."
"The Chosen One is a title for those who rely on fate. Here, we only rely on the Grip."
A figure emerged from the dust. It wasn't a glowing spirit or a logic-cube. It was a giant of a man, clad in armor made of blackened iron and scarred wood. His face was hidden behind a visor, but his presence felt like a mountain standing on Rohan's chest.
"Who are you?" Rohan asked, squaring his shoulders despite the crushing pressure.
"I am the First Vexillary," the giant boomed. "The one who stood at the gates of the Sanctuary when the gods first tried to burn it. I am the Strength that allowed the Heartbloom to bloom."
THE WARRIOR'S TRUTH: BEYOND MAGIC
The giant didn't use magic. He simply stepped forward and swung a massive, blunt slab of iron. Rohan raised his sword to parry—and was sent flying across the clay for a hundred feet.
"Hey! Watch it!" Rohan coughed, spitting out red dust. "I don't have wings or fancy nature-lasers like Mokshit!"
"EXACTLY," the Vexillary roared. "The Guardian is the Soul. The Priestess is the Heart. But YOU, Rohan... you are the ARMOR. When the Soul is tired and the Heart is broken, who stands in the way? Who bleeds so they don't have to? A sword that relies on magic will break when the magic dies. A sword that relies on the Arm will never fail."
Rohan stood up. His muscles screamed. His hands were bleeding. "I'm just a guy from a village. I don't have ancient blood."
"Blood is just salt and water," the giant hissed, leaning down. "But Will... Will is what turns a man into a monument. You survived the explosion of a God-Level technique in that cave because your body refused to let go of your friends. That is the true 'Ancient Power'."
THE THREE STANCES OF THE UNBREAKABLE
The Vexillary gripped Rohan's shoulder, and suddenly, Rohan felt his muscles being re-woven. His bones felt like they were being infused with the density of tectonic plates.
The Rooted Stance (The Mountain): "To protect, you must become immovable. Let the enemy strike you with the force of a waterfall. You do not dodge. You absorb. You become the earth they cannot plow."
The Kinetic Burst (The Avalanche): "You do not have prana, but you have Momentum. Every hit you take, you store. Every ounce of pain, you compress. Then, you release it in a single strike that can shatter Celestial armor."
The Bastion Link: "Your soul is the anchor. As long as you stand, the 'Hybrid' and the 'Priestess' cannot be touched. You are the physical limit of the world."
Rohan looked at his hands. They weren't glowing with light; they were turning a deep, metallic bronze. His grip on his rusted sword felt different. The sword didn't feel light anymore; it felt like an extension of his skeleton.
THE AWAKENING: THE IRON VANGUARD
The battlefield began to crumble into smoke.
"Mokshit is powerless. Meera is cursed. Nikhil is a dreamer. They are glass, Rohan. Beautiful, powerful glass. And you... you are the Iron Case. If you break, the world breaks. Train your flesh until it mocks the spears of the gods."
Rohan's eyes snapped open in the clearing.
He didn't feel "magical." He felt heavy. He stood up, and the ground beneath his boots cracked slightly. When he reached out to pick up his old, bent sword, the iron hilt groaned under his new grip. He felt a strange "Heat" in his muscles—a stored energy that wasn't Nature or Corruption. It was pure, raw Vitality.
He looked at the mountain rubble. He didn't see runes like Nikhil. He didn't see elements like Mokshit. He just saw something that needed to be moved.
He walked to a massive boulder that was blocking their path, placed his shoulder against it, and pushed.
With a roar of grinding stone, the multi-ton rock slid aside.
Rohan wiped sweat from his brow and looked at his shocked friends. "Don't look at me like that. Someone has to carry the bags while you guys play with your spirit-powers."
He gave them his signature cocky grin, but his eyes were different now. They were as hard as the iron he had met in his dream.