The bronze sword, unable to withstand the divine pressure flowing through Rona's grip, shattered into a thousand useless shards. Rona didn't care. He looked at his bare hands, feeling a lethal heat thrumming beneath his skin. Weapons were no longer necessary; he was the weapon now.
It was time to make the Asuras pay.
Though primitive and dull-witted, the Asuras possessed the instincts of predators. The moment Rona stepped forward, the air around him began to warp from the sheer intensity of his presence. Their laughter died instantly. For the first time in their miserable lives, they felt a cold, paralyzing dread.
The demons turned to flee, their massive forms moving at an alarming speed, but Rona was a blur of golden light. He caught the first Asura with a single, straight punch to the chest. The impact didn't just break bone—it caused the creature to explode in a spray of black ichor.
He didn't hesitate. Covered in demonic blood, Rona tore through their ranks like a storm. To the children watching, it was a massacre. One by one, the fiends were obliterated—some losing heads to a single swipe, others bursting into dust under the weight of his kicks. In less than three minutes, the ground was littered with the remains of over a hundred Asuras.
The few survivors scrambled into the shadows of the forest, but Rona let them go. They weren't worth the chase.
He turned back to the cellar, his chest surging, his eyes still burning with a fading divine glow. But when he approached the children, they didn't run to him. They recoiled.
"Who are you?" Rani whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the blood-soaked man who wore her brother's face but held a stranger's eyes. "You… you can't be Big Brother Rona."
At her words, the golden heat in his veins suddenly vanished. The weight of his injuries and the exhaustion of his mortal frame came crashing back. Rona slumped, his eyes softening as the "God" within him receded into the back of his mind.
"Forgive me for the mess, Rani," Rona rasped, his voice returning to its fragile, human tone. "I don't know what happened... I just felt a strength I can't describe. But it's over. We're safe."
He looked toward the horizon, where the smoke of other burning villages rose. "We can't stay here. We have to reach the Capital. It's our only chance for protection."
They traveled until their shadows grew long, finally settling in a small clearing as the sun dipped below the horizon. After a meager meal of dried rations and gathered fruit, the exhaustion of the battle finally took its toll. Rona collapsed into a deep sleep, but he did not find darkness.
Instead, he awoke standing upon a sea that felt older than time itself. The water was white, shimmering like liquid moonlight, and the air hummed with the vibration of a thousand distant stars.
His heart nearly stopped at the sight before him.
A figure lay resting upon the surface of the infinite deep. He was draped in a golden halo that made the sun look dim, adorned with ornaments that seemed forged from pure starlight. He had four arms, each holding a weapon that pulsed with the weight of cosmic law. But it wasn't the power that shook Rona—it was the smile. It was a smile of such absolute peace and compassion that Rona felt his own fears melt away. The Deity's eyes, as long and elegant as lotus petals, remained closed, yet he seemed to see everything.
With every breath the Great Being took, it felt as if entire realities were being born and exhaled into the void.
"Humanity needs a Guru," the Deity spoke. His voice didn't come from his lips; it echoed from the very center of Rona's soul. "Not the Sages who merely write the scriptures, nor the Kings who merely rule the dirt. They need a True Guide. One who will teach them to stand against the abominations that hunger for their life."
The Deity did not turn, yet Rona felt a hand of invisible warmth steadying his spirit.
"The shadows are growing, mortal. The Asuras are but the beginning of the perils to come. To survive the coming night, humanity needs a beacon. And I have chosen you to be the fire."
Rona felt his consciousness beginning to pull back toward the waking world, the milky sea dissolving into the morning mist of the camp. But the final words of the God burned into his mind like a brand of gold:
"Walk without fear, Rona of Keti. For from this day forth, you do not carry the sword of a man—you carry the will of the Heavens."