While Harish was busy maintaining the facade of a talentless clerk, Kaelen was undergoing a transformation of her own. Driven by the "tragedy" of her brother's spiritual bankruptcy, her resolve had hardened into diamond.
"I have to be the one," she whispered to herself, standing in the dark stockroom, where the faint scent of damp cardboard and dry lentils hung heavy in the air. "If Harish can't even protect himself from a draft, I have to become strong enough to shield him from the entire world. I won't let the Agnihotris or anyone else touch this shop. He is so fragile, so spiritually hollow... someone has to be the shield."
Chu-mu's voice rumbled with approval inside her mind, a sound like grinding tectonic plates. "Then it is time, disciple. The mana in this city is too thin for the growth you require. We must seek the Unnoticed Space Cracks—the jagged edges where the Rifts didn't fully open. There, the laws of the world are thin, and the 'System' cannot track your progress. You will not be a player; you will be the anomaly that breaks the game."
That night, while the rest of the city slept and the streetlights of India flickered with a tired, orange hum, Kaelen didn't go to bed. Guided by the Martial God, she found a flickering shadow behind a rusted dumpster in the alleyway—a crack in reality no larger than a coin, bleeding a faint, sickly violet light.
With a surge of her Golden Phoenix essence, she pried the crack open, her fingers glowing with a white-hot intensity that turned the bricks behind her to liquid slag. She stepped through the tear, vanishing from the mundane world of xxxxxxxxxxx.
The space between worlds was a jagged, nightmare landscape of floating debris and raw, violet energy that hummed at a frequency that made the teeth ache. It was a place where time didn't flow linearly and the monsters were made of pure, unrefined malice, their forms shifting like ink in water.
"Here," Chu-mu commanded. "We shall grind. You will kill a thousand shadow-wraiths before dawn. You will temper your flame in the cold of the void. By the time we emerge, the 'S' ranks of this world will look like children to you."
Kaelen drew a breath of the thin, metallic air, her lungs burning with the toxic mana of the void. Her eyes glowed with a fierce, protective light. She thought of Harish, struggling with his plastic bags and his 7,000-rupee repair bills, and she felt a surge of power that threatened to set the void on fire.
"Let them come," she said, her voice echoing in the emptiness. "I'll turn this entire dimension into experience points if I have to. For Harish."
As she lunged at the first wraith—a towering thing of claws and static—her movements were a blur of gold and steel. She was no longer just a shopkeeper's daughter; she was a predator in the making.
However, she was not as alone as she believed.
Back in the quiet, dusty house, Harish lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He had felt the ripple of the space crack the moment Kaelen touched it. He sighed, a long, weary sound that carried the weight of a god who just wanted to sleep for twelve hours without someone trying to reach godhood in his backyard.
"Kaelen, Kaelen... you're going to get yourself killed playing in the trash-heap of the universe," he muttered, his voice muffled by his pillow.
He didn't move. He didn't even sit up. Instead, he simply exhaled a breath that was denser than a neutron star. The air in front of him shimmered, coiled, and solidified into a perfect replica of himself—down to the slightly faded "Ravi & Son" t-shirt and the bored expression of a man who knew exactly how many types of lentils were in Aisle 4.
"Go," Harish whispered to the clone. "Keep her from being eaten by anything too big. And for heaven's sake, don't let her see you. I don't want to explain why there are two of me when I can barely justify the existence of one."
The clone nodded once, its body becoming perfectly transparent, its presence erased from every law of detection known to man or god. It stepped through the wall, ignored the physical boundaries of the dimension, and reappeared in the violet void of the space crack, standing just a few feet behind Kaelen as she incinerated a pack of shadow-hounds.
The clone watched with a blank expression as Kaelen let out a battle cry that shook the floating ruins. She was currently swinging a condensed blade of phoenix fire, accidentally clipping a floating mountain and turning it into a shower of purple sparks.
Inside Kaelen, Chu-mu suddenly paused. The Martial God's spiritual senses suddenly felt a chill that shouldn't exist in the presence of a Golden Phoenix. He felt a gaze. A heavy, indifferent, and terrifyingly vast gaze.
"Disciple, wait!" Chu-mu's voice was uncharacteristically sharp, almost panicked.
Kaelen skidded to a halt, her boots kicking up dust from a dead world. "What is it, Master? There's a Void Sentinel approaching. I can take it!"
"No... it's not the sentinel," Chu-mu whispered, his spectral eyes darting around the purple fog. "I felt it again. A presence. Something is behind us. Something so quiet it makes the silence of the void sound like a scream. I cannot sense its mana. I cannot see its form. But it feels like... it feels like the universe is holding its breath."
Kaelen spun around, her phoenix fire flared to its maximum, illuminating the jagged rocks for miles. She saw nothing but the swirling violet mists and the distant, flickering light of a dying star.
Harish's clone was standing exactly three inches from her back, looking at a loose thread on Kaelen's jacket and contemplating whether it should tuck it in or if that would be "too much interaction." It decided against it, instead reaching out an invisible hand to gently tap a shadow-wraith that was sneaking up on Kaelen's blind spot.
The moment the clone's finger touched the wraith, the monster didn't just die. It ceased to have ever existed. The purple energy making up its body was simply deleted from the timeline. There was no explosion, no scream—just a sudden, hollow absence where a nightmare had been.
Kaelen blinked. "Master, the wraith... it just disappeared? Did I kill it with my aura?"
Chu-mu was silent for a long time. His spectral form was actually shivering. "Yes... let us go with that. Your aura is... remarkably efficient today. Let us continue. But do not lower your guard. The void is acting... strangely. It's as if the abyss itself is afraid of making a noise."
Kaelen shrugged, her confidence surging. "I told you, Master. I'm doing this for Harish. If the universe has to break to keep him safe, then I'll break it. Now, where's the next one?"
As she charged deeper into the nightmare dimension, the invisible clone followed with a slow, leisurely pace, occasionally kicking a stray soul-eater out of her path as if it were a common pebble.
The sun rose over the neighborhood with a sluggish, humid heat. Kaelen stumbled back through the alleyway crack just as the first milk truck rattled down the street. She looked like she had been dragged through a blender filled with neon paint. Her hair was frizzy with static, her eyes were bloodshot, and every muscle in her body was screaming.
But her mana core was humming like a high-voltage transformer.
She walked into the shop, expecting to find Harish slumped over the counter or struggling to open a jar of pickles. Instead, she found him humming a tuneless song, meticulously organizing the soap display.
"Morning, Kaelen," Harish said, not turning around. "You look like you fought a lawnmower and lost. Did you have a rough night? You've got... is that purple slime on your shoe?"
Kaelen leaned against the doorframe, her legs trembling. "You have no idea, Harish. I was... out. Doing things. Important things. Things that ensure people like you can sell soap in peace. You wouldn't understand the weight of the world."
Harish turned around, his face a mask of innocent concern. "Oh? Like what? Did you join a marathon? You know, you should really be careful. You're not as young as you used to be. I don't want you hurting yourself while I'm not around to catch you."
Kaelen felt a twitch in her eyebrow. The "Martial God" within her was currently screaming about the audacity of a "Spiritless Clerk" lecturing a Phoenix.
"I'm fine, Harish," she snapped, though her voice cracked with exhaustion. "I'm stronger than I look. Much stronger. One day, you'll realize just how much I do for this family."
"I'm sure you do, Kaelen. I'm sure you do," Harish said, walking over and handing her a small, cold bottle of electrolyte water. "Here. Drink this. You look like you're about to evaporate."
Kaelen took the bottle, her fingers brushing his. For a split second, the Golden Phoenix within her roared, sensing something—a faint, echoing vibration that felt like the void she had just left. She stared at Harish, her eyes narrowing.
"Harish... where did you get this water?"
"The fridge?" he replied, tilting his head. "Why? Is it the wrong brand? Dad said we had to push the local stuff because the margins are better."
Kaelen sighed, her suspicion fading into the haze of her fatigue. "Never mind. I'm going to go sit in the back. If any 'Agnihotris' come back, you scream. Do you hear me? You scream like a little girl and I'll come running."
The golden chariots of the Agnihotri Clan did not so much arrive as they did "incinerate" the local atmosphere. As they descended toward the shop in India, the heat caused the neighborhood's asphalt to bubble.
At the head of the procession was Vikram Agnihotri, the current Clan Leader. Behind him, hidden among the attendants, followed his father, Vikramaditya Agnihotri—the true head of the bloodline who now spent his days disguised as the "frail janitor" of Ravi & Son.
Vikramaditya was currently hiding behind a stack of empty crates, clutching his mop. "The fool," he hissed. "He thinks he's bringing a gift. He's bringing a fuse to a powder keg. If he upsets Harish, my retirement is going to end in a supernova."
Vikram Agnihotri stepped into the shop, the temperature spiking by twenty degrees instantly.
"Where is the master of this establishment?" Vikram's voice boomed.
Takeo Kusanagi, who had been sitting in the corner meditating on a 20kg bag of Basmati, slowly opened his eyes. He didn't stand up. He simply shifted his weight, and the "Dragon-Slaying Intent" of a warrior who had seen the end of worlds filled the room.
"The master is busy," Takeo rumbled. "And the clerk is busy with the floor. You are currently trespassing on a sanctuary of commerce, Solar Lord. Your heat is spoiling the yogurt. Lower your temperature or I shall be forced to treat you as a malfunctioning appliance."
Vikram Agnihotri stiffened. "A Ronin of the Lost Isles? Guarding a grocery store?"
Harish, meanwhile, was tapping the bell on the counter. "Hey! Sparky! You're melting the produce! What do you want?"
Vikram signaled to his attendants, who brought forward a chest of "Ancestral Gold" Alchemical Mangoes.
"I am here to offer an apology for my daughter," Vikram said. "These are the Mangoes of Arka-Dham. One bite can extend a human life by a decade."
Harish leaned over, squinting. "They're too bright. Do you have a receipt for these? How do I know they're organic?"
Takeo stood up then. "The mana is pure," Takeo said, looking at Harish. "But the pride is higher. Young Master, these 'Mangoes' are a bribe disguised as a gift."
"I don't care, Takeo," Harish sighed. "I care that the fridge is humming like it's about to explode. Look, Sparky—keep your glowing fruit. Just pay the 7,000 rupees for the marble and another 500 for the spoiled milk. I don't have space on the shelf for 'Ancestral Gold'."
Vikram Agnihotri felt a vein in his forehead throb. "You would reject the Sun... for seven thousand rupees?"
"I'd reject the Moon for five grand if it was blocking the entrance," Harish countered. "Now, are you going to pay, or do I have to ask Takeo to escort you to the sidewalk?"
Before Vikram could unleash a catastrophe, Kaelen emerged from the back, her Golden Phoenix aura flaring instinctively.
"Father!" Vikram shouted, looking toward the shadows. "Behold! The Ancestor has awakened!"
Vikramaditya finally stepped out, clutching his mop. "Shut up, you idiot! She's trying to do the inventory! Just pay the man and leave before the 'Spiritless Clerk' decides to get 'serious'!"
Confused and bewildered, Vikram Agnihotri dropped a heavy purse of gold coins on the counter. "Fine. The debt is paid. But know this—the world is changing."
As the chariots retreated, a holographic blue light blanketed the entire city. From the sky, a massive digital screen flickered into existence. The logo of the Human Alliance shimmered with authority.
"Citizens of the Sectors," a synthesized voice announced. "The boundaries between worlds have thinned. The Great Integration has reached its peak!"
Harish, Kaelen, and Takeo stood on the sidewalk, looking up.
"The Human Alliance hereby announces the Tournament of Sovereigns! A global event conducted all around Sector 3 and beyond. This is not merely for the Awakened of Earth. We invite players from different worlds—the Void, the Hidden Realms, and the Celestial Peaks—to participate."
Kaelen's eyes burned with a new fire. "Master," she whispered. "This is it. If I win this, I can buy Harish a shop made of indestructible diamond. He'll never have to worry about a broken counter again."
Takeo looked at his hands. "A tournament of worlds. Perhaps I will find a blade worthy of my silence."
Harish, however, just stared at the massive screen and let out a long, exhausted groan.
"Great," Harish muttered, turning back to the shop to grab his mop. "A global tournament. That means the traffic is going to be a nightmare, and everyone is going to be out of stock on energy drinks. I'm going to have to double the order for 'Sovereign Subscriptions' just to keep up with the demand. I hate tournaments. They're so... loud."
Invisible to everyone, Harish's clone stood on the roof of the shop, looking at the "Key to the First Rift" on the screen. It let out a small, bored yawn. To the world, it was the start of an era of heroes. To Harish, it was just another reason to raise the price of ginger-root.