The village celebrated in full swing, music filling the air as everyone gathered beneath the stars.
After a while, Rivaan's grandfather caught his eye and motioned him inside. They stepped quietly into the house, and Virat told him to wait. Moments later, he returned carrying a small chest adorned with ancient engravings.
"It's time," his grandfather said, holding out a strange glove. Made of worn leather, it carried an unusual echo, with a faintly glowing compass embedded on the back.
"This is the Life Glove. It will guide you when the time is right."
Rivaan frowned. "The compass isn't working."
Virat smiled sadly. "It will… when you need it the most."
Before Rivaan could ask more, laughter and music erupted again from outside. But beneath it, a darker sound grew in the distance.
At the edge of the village, the Lunetra Clan approached.
Earlier that day, they had suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of warriors from a distant land. Enraged and humiliated, the commander's fury burned hot.
They spotted the village celebrating.
"Burn it down," the commander ordered coldly. "Punish them all."
Like a storm, Lunetra soldiers charged in. Houses were set ablaze. Women and children were beaten. Some men were executed. Screams of terror filled the night.
Rivaan heard the cries and ran outside. His eyes widened in horror as a young girl screamed, a Lunetra soldier raising his sword to strike.
With a single powerful kick, Rivaan sent the soldier flying backward. The girl clutched his arm, tears streaming down her face.
More soldiers rushed forward. Rivaan grabbed a fallen sword and took a stance. He had never fought real warriors before — but today, there was no choice.
Steel clashed against steel as Rivaan dodged, blocked, and struck back.
Then, from the back, the commander lunged to stab Rivaan. But the moment he moved, everything stopped.
A pressure unlike any before burst through the air — a monstrous aura that made even the Lunetra soldiers tremble. Their hearts skipped beats, frozen in place.
The commander's eyes narrowed as an old man stepped forward, holding a rusted sword.
At first, the commander dismissed him as just an old fool.
But then…
The rust peeled away like dust in the wind, revealing a blade of pure silver — double-edged and deadly.
A shockwave of overwhelming pressure burst forth, shaking the very ground.
The commander's eyes widened in disbelief.
No... it can't be.
The legendary Jaeger — the man once known as Wrathborn.
And that man stood before him now: Rivaan's grandfather, Virat.
The old man closed his eyes.
In the blink of an eye — fifty soldiers fell.
No one saw the moves or the strikes.
One moment, the soldiers stood. The next, their heads hit the ground.
The commander trembled. "Impossible."
Virat turned to Rivaan. "Run, Rivaan. Now."
"But—"
"Go!" His voice shook the air with power.
The commander noticed the glove on Rivaan's hand. His eyes darkened.
"Capture the boy!" he ordered.
Rivaan turned and ran.
Through the burning village and into the jungle, Rivaan ran with all his strength.
But Lunetra soldiers surrounded him. He clenched his fists, ready to fight.
Then—
A deafening screech tore through the sky.
The soldiers froze in fear as a massive shadow loomed overhead.
A griffith.
The beast descended with fury. Its talons tore through soldiers. Its beak snapped bone like twigs.
Rivaan stared in shock.
The griffith turned to him. Its eyes were intelligent, almost human.
It lowered its body as if offering a ride.
Rivaan hesitated — then leaped onto its back.
"Where are you taking me?!" he shouted.
The griffith spread its mighty wings, and they soared into the sky.