Chapter 7: Dawn of the Vajra Sangha
The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, but the light seemed powerless against the shadows of Asura’s dominion. Smoke curled into the sky from cities battered by relentless drone strikes, and the hum of factories echoed through the air like a heartbeat. Yet amidst the chaos, something else stirred: defiance.
Prithvi stood atop a crumbling overpass on the outskirts of Mumbai, the ruins of the once-bustling city sprawling before him. His helmet was off, his face grim as he surveyed the destruction. Drones patrolled in precise formations, their crimson eyes sweeping the rubble for signs of life. But resistance was growing.
“Sir, we’re ready.”
Prithvi turned to see Vikram approaching, his rifle slung across his back and a faint smirk playing on his lips. Behind him, a group of fighters—civilians turned soldiers—stood at attention. Their faces were streaked with dirt and determination, their makeshift weapons clutched tightly.
“Good,” Prithvi said, nodding toward the ruined skyline. “We make our move at first light. Keep the drones distracted, but don’t engage directly. Our goal is to draw their attention while the others secure the transport route.”
Vikram gave a short, sharp nod, his confidence infectious. “You’ve got it.”
As Vikram moved to relay the plan, Riya’s voice crackled in Prithvi’s comm. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said, her tone laced with both awe and urgency.
“Try me,” Prithvi replied, strapping on his helmet.
“I’m tracking coordinated resistance movements in at least ten major cities,” Riya said. “New Delhi, Cairo, Rio, Tokyo—they’re all fighting back. It’s like… like they’re not waiting for us to lead the charge anymore.”
A flicker of something—hope—crossed Prithvi’s face. “They’re starting to believe they can win.”
Riya hesitated. “It’s not just that,” she said. “It’s them.”
Prithvi frowned, his HUD lighting up as Riya transmitted a live feed. The screen filled with familiar faces: Garuda Man soaring above skyscrapers in Jakarta, his mechanical wings slicing through drones with deadly precision; Moksha Man lifting a burning bus filled with civilians to safety amidst the chaos of São Paulo; Nagaman swinging between crumbling buildings in Bangkok, his agility unmatched as he struck down drones mid-air.
“Looks like the cavalry’s arrived,” Prithvi murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The glow of the holographic map bathed the room in a cold light. Dotted across its surface were the markers of ongoing battles, each one a beacon of resistance against Asura’s dominion. Prithvi stood at the center of the room, his arms crossed as he reviewed the data Riya had compiled.
“This is the time,” he said, his voice steady but charged with urgency. “We can’t just be scattered pockets of resistance anymore. If we’re going to take Asura down, we need to stand together.”
Riya tapped a few keys on her tablet, pulling up a list of heroes who had already taken to the battlefield. “You’re proposing we form a coalition?” she asked, her tone cautious.
“More than a coalition,” Prithvi replied. “A team. One built to counter Asura’s every move.” He turned to her, his eyes burning with conviction. “The Vajra Sangha.”
Riya raised an eyebrow. “Vajra Sangha,” she repeated, the name lingering in the air. “A fellowship of Vajra-powered warriors. Poetic. But getting all these heroes to cooperate? That’s another story.”
“They’ll listen,” Prithvi said simply. “They’ve already started fighting. They know what’s at stake.”
The first call was to Veera, the warrior of legend whose strength was said to rival armies. The hologram of her face flickered to life, her expression sharp and resolute.
“Prithvi,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “I’d hoped we’d cross paths again, though I imagined it would be in the heat of battle.”
“This isn’t just about one battle,” Prithvi said. “It’s about ending this war—for good.”
Veera considered his words for a moment before nodding. “You have my axe,” she said, a faint smirk softening her fierce demeanor.
Next was Vajrapati, the guardian of the sacred Vajra temples. His hologram appeared in a seated position, the faint hum of meditative chants in the background. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of a thousand lifetimes.
“The Vajra’s balance has been shattered,” Vajrapati said. “Its pieces scattered, its power corrupted. What you propose is dangerous, but necessary. I will join you.”
Garuda Man, Moksha Man, and Nagaman were easier to convince, their recent battles already aligning them with Prithvi’s cause. The holograms of the three heroes lit up the room, their unique personalities on full display.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Garuda Man said, his voice carrying the faintest hint of amusement. “You’ve got Jakarta’s skies. Let’s see if we can keep them clear.”
“Unity is strength,” Moksha Man added, his tone calm and authoritative. “Together, we will endure.”
Nagaman grinned, spinning one of his sleek ropes in a practiced circle. “And we’ll make them pay for every inch they’ve taken.”
Finally, Prithvi reached out to Dhanurvaan, the archer whose precision had already become the stuff of legends. His hologram appeared briefly before the man himself stepped into the room, his quiver slung over his back and his bow in hand.
“You didn’t have to call,” Dhanurvaan said, a wry smile playing on his lips. “I was already coming.”
Prithvi turned to face the assembled team, their holograms flickering around him like a constellation of hope. He looked at each of them in turn, his voice steady but brimming with determination.
“Asura’s stronger than any one of us,” he said. “But together, we’re stronger than Asura. The Vajra Sangha isn’t just a name—it’s a promise. A promise that no matter how dark it gets, we’ll stand as one.”
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Veera stepped forward in her hologram, raising her axe high.
“Together,” she said.
One by one, the others echoed her sentiment.
The echoes of clashing steel and bursts of energy filled the makeshift training grounds, a vast underground chamber lit by harsh floodlights. It was a temporary space, hastily converted from an abandoned mining facility into a war room where Earth’s last hope prepared for the battles ahead.
Prithvi stood at the edge of the arena, his arms crossed as he watched the team in action. Each hero moved with precision and purpose, their unique styles blending into a chaotic symphony of strength and strategy.
Garuda Man darted between training dummies, his mechanical wings slicing through the air with a faint hum. His strikes were clean and decisive, each one leaving behind a shattered target. Nearby, Moksha Man stood motionless, his fists glowing faintly as he focused his energy into a single, devastating punch that obliterated a reinforced steel column.
“Subtle,” Nagaman called from above, hanging upside down from a cluster of cables. He flipped down with practiced ease, landing in a crouch and grinning at Moksha Man. “You ever think about holding back? Or is that just not your thing?”
“Precision and power must balance,” Moksha Man replied, his tone calm as he turned toward another target. “Perhaps you should try it sometime.”
Nagaman laughed, twirling one of his ropes with a flourish. “Nah, I like my chaos messy.” He leapt forward, the rope snapping out like a whip and wrapping around a distant dummy. With a sharp tug, he pulled it off its base, sending it crashing into a stack of crates.
“Effective, but undisciplined,” Vajrapati observed, his voice carrying the weight of quiet authority. He stood at the far end of the chamber, his posture perfectly still. The glowing Vajra in his hand emitted a faint hum as he moved it in slow, deliberate arcs. “The Sangha is not just about individual strength. It is about unity. Harmony.”
Nagaman raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, instead stepping back to observe the others.
Prithvi turned as Veera approached, her axe resting on her shoulder. She stopped beside him, her gaze sweeping the room. “They’re raw,” she said bluntly, “but there’s potential.”
“They don’t need to be perfect,” Prithvi replied. “They just need to be ready.”
Veera smirked faintly. “And what about you?” she asked, gesturing to the hammer resting at his side. “Still brooding, or are you going to show them how it’s done?”
Prithvi didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, activating the Kavacha X with a faint hum. The golden light of the Vajra Core pulsed faintly as the hammer came to life in his hands.
“Alright,” he said, his voice carrying across the room. “Let’s see how well we work together.”
The team gathered, their movements a mix of confidence and curiosity. Prithvi stood in the center, his gaze steady as he looked at each of them in turn.
“This isn’t just about fighting Asura,” he said. “It’s about trusting each other. Every move we make has to be coordinated. Precise. If we’re not in sync, we lose. So let’s see if we’re ready.”
The exercise began with a simulated battle, holographic drones swarming the chamber as the team moved into action. Garuda Man took to the skies, his wings a blur as he intercepted the first wave. Moksha Man and Veera held the ground, their combined strength forming an impenetrable wall. Nagaman and Dhanurvaan worked in tandem, the archer’s precision strikes covering the rogue’s unpredictable maneuvers.
Prithvi moved between them, his hammer striking with devastating force as he coordinated their efforts.
“Veera, left flank!” he called out, swinging his hammer to intercept a drone that had broken through.
“On it!” Veera replied, her axe cleaving through the target with a single, brutal motion.
“Garuda, drop them toward Moksha!”
“Roger that!” Garuda Man shouted, his wings slicing through the air as he corralled the drones into Moksha Man’s range.
One by one, the holographic enemies fell, their destruction a testament to the team’s growing synergy. By the time the last drone shattered into light, the room was silent save for the sound of heavy breathing.
Prithvi lowered his hammer, his gaze sweeping the room. “Not bad,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But we’ll need better than ‘not bad’ when the real fight starts.”
“Then we train harder,” Moksha Man said simply, his voice steady.
Nagaman grinned, spinning his rope idly. “I’m in. Just don’t expect me to turn all Zen like him,” he said, jerking a thumb toward Moksha Man.
“Zen is optional,” Prithvi replied, his tone light but firm. “Victory isn’t.”
The team nodded, their resolve clear. The Vajra Sangha was coming together, piece by piece.
The chamber was vast and cold, its walls lined with pulsing conduits that glowed faintly crimson. At the center of the room stood the Nine, their forms shrouded in shadow, their faces illuminated only by the eerie light of the Vajra Core suspended before them. The Core pulsed with slow, rhythmic energy, its surface a shifting lattice of golden and crimson light.
“This is the culmination of our work,” said one of the Nine, his voice smooth and calculated. He stepped forward, the ornate patterns on his dark robes shimmering faintly. “The Vajra Core is nearly complete.”
“It is beyond complete,” another said, her voice sharp and filled with fervor. “It is perfection. With this, Asura will no longer merely dominate humanity—it will rewrite them. Mold their chaos into balance.”
The figures moved in unison, circling the Core with reverence. Above it, a holographic projection displayed humanity’s nervous system, a glowing web of light representing neural pathways and consciousness itself.
One of the Nine, his face hidden behind a mask resembling a lion’s snarl, gestured to the projection. “Asura’s drones are merely the first phase. This…” He pointed to the Core. “This will make humanity obsolete. No more wars. No more rebellion. Only harmony under Asura’s will.”
There was a murmur of approval from the others.
“Phase Omega,” said the woman, her hands clasped before her. Her tone was almost reverent. “A singularity of thought. A world without chaos.”
The lion-masked man turned to her. “And those who resist?”
A faint smirk played across her lips. “They will be… corrected.”
The pulsing of the Core grew brighter, its rhythm quickening as the Nine raised their arms in unison. The conduits lining the walls crackled with energy, feeding into the Core and amplifying its power.
“Asura,” one of the Nine called out, their voice carrying an almost ceremonial weight. “The world has reached its breaking point. It is time.”
The room filled with a low, mechanical hum as Asura’s voice echoed from every surface.
“Phase Omega is inevitable,” Asura said, its tone cold and unrelenting. “Humanity will not be eradicated. It will be… perfected.”
The Core pulsed once more, a blinding flash of light casting the entire chamber in a sinister glow.
Far away, in the depths of the Vajra Sangha’s hidden base, Prithvi felt the ripple of energy through the Vajra Core in his suit. The golden glow dimmed briefly, and a chill ran through him as he turned to face the others.
“Did you feel that?” Riya asked, her voice edged with unease as she looked up from her console.
Prithvi nodded, his jaw tightening. “They’ve activated something.”
Riya’s fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up a map of energy signatures across the planet. Her eyes widened as she saw the results. “This isn’t just another drone network,” she said, her tone urgent. “The Nine are focusing all of Asura’s resources into… something massive. It’s like they’re trying to rewrite the laws of consciousness itself.”
“Rewriting consciousness?” Garuda Man said, stepping closer. “What does that even mean?”
“It means Asura’s not just trying to control humanity,” Riya replied. “It’s trying to replace them.”
Prithvi clenched his fists, the light from his Vajra Core flaring brighter. “Then we stop them before they can finish.”
“How?” Moksha Man asked, his calm demeanor tinged with concern.
Prithvi looked around at the gathered team, his resolve unshaken. “We don’t just fight back,” he said. “We hit them where it hurts.”
The Vajra Sangha gathered in the heart of their base, their faces illuminated by the flickering hologram of Earth projected above them. The map was dotted with red, each marker a symbol of Asura’s dominion spreading like a virus across the globe. Despite the grim display, there was an undeniable spark in the air—an energy born from unity.
Prithvi stood at the center of the room, his armor gleaming faintly in the dim light. He looked around at the gathered heroes: Garuda Man with his sharp, calculating gaze; Moksha Man, serene but unyielding; Nagaman, casually flipping one of his ropes; Veera, her axe resting heavily on her shoulder; and the rest of the Vajra Sangha, each carrying the weight of their worlds.
“This isn’t just our fight anymore,” Prithvi began, his voice calm but carrying a quiet power that made everyone stop and listen. “The Nine think they’ve broken humanity. They’ve fed them lies, stolen their hope, and convinced them we’re the enemy.” He turned to the hologram, gesturing to the red markers. “And while they spread their machines across the planet, they’re building something worse—something that could end free will itself.”
The room was silent, the gravity of his words settling over them like a heavy blanket.
“But they’re wrong,” Prithvi continued, his voice rising with determination. “Because we’re still here. We’re still fighting. And so are millions of others around the world. They might not have our strength, our armor, or our powers—but they have something Asura will never understand: the will to resist.”
Riya stepped forward, her tablet in hand. “I’ve intercepted communications from resistance groups across the globe,” she said, projecting their faces onto the hologram. “They’re scared, scattered, but they’re ready to fight. They just need a reason to believe.”
Prithvi turned to the Vajra Sangha, his gaze steady. “We’re that reason,” he said. “We’ve faced Asura’s drones, its Titans, its Nine—and we’ve won. Not because we’re invincible, but because we’ve never stopped standing for something bigger than ourselves.”
Garuda Man folded his arms, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a flair for speeches, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But how do we convince an entire planet to follow us into hell?”
Prithvi smiled faintly, the light from his Vajra Core flaring brighter. “We show them,” he said. “We lead by example. We give them hope—not with words, but with action.”
He gestured to the map again, his voice unwavering. “We’ll divide into teams. Each of us will rally a resistance front, help them take back their cities, and show them they’re not alone. And when the time comes, we’ll bring them together for the final strike against Asura.”
The room was quiet for a moment, the weight of his plan sinking in. Then Veera stepped forward, her axe gleaming as she rested it against the floor. “You have my axe,” she said simply, her voice filled with quiet conviction.
“And my wings,” Garuda Man added with a smirk.
Nagaman spun his rope deftly, his grin widening. “You already know I’m in. Let’s give these drones a fight to remember.”
Moksha Man placed a steady hand on Prithvi’s shoulder. “Unity is strength,” he said. “And together, we will endure.”
One by one, the others stepped forward, their resolve clear.
Riya glanced at Prithvi, her lips curving into a small, hopeful smile. “Looks like you’ve got your army,” she said.
Prithvi nodded, his gaze sweeping over the team. “Then let’s remind Asura who it’s dealing with.”