Arjun's still blinking like a dazed puppy after turning half the cave into a smoking crater. Yaksha's standing there, arms crossed, pig mask dangling from his belt, his scarred face unreadable but radiating "I told you so" energy. The air smells like burnt rakshasa and ozone, a weird mix that stings Arjun's nose. He's sitting on the cave floor, Nandaka limp in his hand, trying to piece together what just happened.
"Bro, did I… did I do that?" Arjun mutters, pointing at the jagged hole where the cave wall used to be. Sunlight's pouring in, rude and bright, like nature's way of saying, "Yeah, you screwed up."
Yaksha grunts, kicking a charred rakshasa claw aside. "You didn't *do* anything. It did you. Untapped power's a rabid dog—doesn't care who's holding the leash." His voice is gravelly, like he's gargled rocks for breakfast, but there's a flicker of something else in it. Pride? Annoyance? Arjun's too dazed to tell.
"Cool, cool," Arjun says, brushing dust off his pants like he's not freaked out. "So I'm, like, a walking bomb now? That's dope. When do I get the manual for this?"
Yaksha doesn't laugh. He squats down, eye-level with Arjun, and jabs a meaty finger into his chest. "You think this is a game, kid? That glowy-eyed stunt wasn't control. It was desperation leaking out like a cracked dam. Next time, it might not be rakshasas you fry—it might be yourself."
Arjun gulps, the bravado fizzling fast. "Okay, chill, big guy. Teach me then. You're the mentor, right? Rishi bailed, so you're the one stuck with me."
Yaksha stands, cracking his knuckles loud enough to echo. "Get up. Lesson one: lightning doesn't care about your attitude. Lesson two: neither do I."
---
The training kicks off, and it's brutal. Yaksha drags Arjun outside the cave to a rocky plateau perched on the Mountain of the Mists. The air's thick, wet, like breathing soup, and the mist curls around them like it's alive. Yaksha points to a boulder the size of a bull. "Move it."
Arjun blinks. "With my hands? Bro, I've got lightning, not biceps."
"With your *energy*, idiot," Yaksha snaps. "Focus it. Push it. Feel it."
Arjun shrugs, still half-convinced this is some elaborate prank. He plants his feet, closes his eyes, and tries that breathing trick Yaksha taught him—slow inhale, slower exhale, imagine lightning dancing in his palms. Nothing. He peeks one eye open. The boulder's still sitting there, mocking him. Yaksha's tapping his foot, looking like he's about to yeet Arjun off the mountain himself.
"Focus harder," Yaksha growls. "You're not petting a puppy. Grab the energy, *wrestle* it."
Arjun grits his teeth, picturing sparks, storms, anything. A tiny zap flickers between his fingers—barely enough to tickle a fly. "This is stupid," he mutters, dropping his hands. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this lightning gig. Can't I just swing Nandaka and call it a day?"
Yaksha's on him in a flash, grabbing his collar and hoisting him like a ragdoll. "You think this is optional? That power's in you whether you like it or not. Ignore it, and it'll eat you alive. Or worse—someone else will."
Arjun flails, Nandaka clattering to the ground. "Okay, okay! I'll try! Put me down, you oversized bacon slab!"
Yaksha drops him, smirking for the first time. "Good. Again."
---
Hours bleed into each other. Arjun's sweaty, bruised from tripping over rocks, and his hands are tingling like he's grabbed a live wire. The boulder hasn't budged, but he's getting zaps—real ones now, crackling blue and wild. Yaksha watches, silent, letting him flounder. Finally, Arjun snaps.
"This is pointless!" he yells, kicking a pebble that skitters off the plateau. "I'm not some sage or warrior! I'm just… me! Why's this crap even happening?"
Yaksha's quiet for a beat, then steps closer, looming like a storm cloud. "You think I chose this either?" His voice dips low, raw. "I was like you once—clueless, angry, stuck with power I didn't ask for. Difference is, I didn't have a choice to run. You do. So what's it gonna be, kid? Fight or flop?"
Arjun stares, caught off guard. Yaksha's scars suddenly look less like trophies and more like warnings. He clenches his fists, the tingling in his hands flaring. "Fine. I'll fight. But if I blow up this mountain, it's on you."
Yaksha chuckles, a dry, rusty sound. "Deal."
---
Round two. Arjun digs deep, picturing every lightning bolt he's ever seen—crashing, splitting, alive. His breath steadies, his heartbeat thumps in sync with the buzzing in his veins. A spark ignites, then a pulse, then—*boom*—blue arcs explode from his hands, slamming into the boulder. It doesn't move far, maybe a foot, but it *moves*. Dust kicks up, and Arjun whoops, fists pumping.
"Did you see that? I'm a freaking thunder god!"
Yaksha snorts. "Thunder toddler, maybe. But it's a start."
Before Arjun can gloat more, the mist shifts—fast, unnatural. A low growl rumbles through the plateau, and the ground trembles. Yaksha's smirk vanishes. He grabs his mask, snapping it back on. "Lesson's over. Something's coming."
Arjun spins, Nandaka in hand, still useless without energy. "What now? More rakshasas?"
"Worse," Yaksha mutters, drawing a massive axe from his back. The mist parts, and a shadow looms—tall, horned, eyes glowing red through the haze. "That's no rakshasa. That's a Danava."
Arjun's jaw drops. "A what-now?"
The thing roars, shaking the mountain, and charges. Yaksha shoves Arjun aside, meeting it head-on with a clash that sparks like a thunderstorm. Arjun scrambles up, lightning flickering in his palms, unsteady but there. "Okay, destiny, you win. Let's dance."