Anirudh resisted, the weight of his inability to save a friend pressing down on him like a vice. The haunting thought of what he could have done differently gnawed at his conscience, a relentless echo of his perceived failures. After Pratyush's death, he started to see himself as useless, just a burden to those around him. Every step he took on the way here was shadowed by the crushing belief that he wouldn't be able to do anything when it really mattered, that he wouldn't be able to save anyone when the time came.

These thoughts consumed him, paralyzing him with doubt and regret. The memory of Avyan in danger, pleading for help, played over and over in his mind. He could still hear Avyan's desperate voice, "Pick up the gun and help me!" But Anirudh had hesitated, unable to make a decision, his hands trembling with fear and uncertainty. The guilt of that moment was a heavy burden, one that seemed too great to bear.

As these dark thoughts began to take over, a distinct and cherished memory pierced through the gloom. It was the memory of his mother, her sweet, loving gaze softening the harsh edges of his despair. He could see her clearly, holding his hand with a tender grip. Little Anirudh, filled with innocent determination, had looked up at her and declared, "I'll always protect you, Mom. I'll never let anything happen to you."

His mother had smiled, a smile that radiated warmth and unwavering belief. She had replied, "I know you always will, my little superhero."

This memory brought a wave of emotions crashing over Anirudh. He remembered the love and trust in his mother's eyes, the confidence she had in him. It was a stark contrast to the self-doubt that now clouded his mind. Her words echoed in his heart, reigniting a spark of courage that had almost been extinguished.

Tears welled up in Anirudh's eyes as he realized he had been letting his fear overshadow the strength his mother always saw in him. He took a deep breath, the memory of her unwavering faith bolstering his resolve. He wasn't useless. He wasn't a burden. He had the power to make a difference, to protect those he cared about.

With renewed determination, Anirudh clenched his fists, his mother's words a mantra in his mind. "I am a superhero," he whispered to himself, feeling the strength of that conviction seep into his bones. He knew what he had to do. He wouldn't let fear control him any longer. He would stand by his friends, fight for them, and protect them, just as he had promised his mother all those years ago.

Anirudh's hesitation melted away, replaced by a steely resolve. He could feel the weight of his doubts lifting, replaced by a sense of purpose. He would not let his past failures define him. He would be the protector, the friend, and the hero his mother believed him to be.

Anirudh lunged forward, his hammer swinging in a wide arc, just like a blow of wind. Lector effortlessly blocked the attack with his swords, deflecting the blow and stepping aside with fluid grace. Anirudh's rage fuelled his relentless assault, but each strike met with the same result—Lector's impeccable defence using his elegant swing of swords.

"You'll have to do better than that," Lector remarked, parrying another attack. "Think, Anirudh. Use your environment."

Anirudh's mind raced as he scanned the room, noting the torches, training dummies, and various obstacles scattered about. He feinted another attack, then leaped onto a nearby platform, gaining the high ground. From there, he swung his hammer down with all his might, aiming for Lector's head. Lector sidestepped the blow, his movements almost mocking in their ease.

"Good attempt, but not good enough," Lector said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Keep trying."

Anirudh's mind raced with thoughts, "What do I do? He is deflecting all my blows with ease. Besides what is that speed, it seems he is teleporting. My eyes are unable to catch up to him when he dodges my attacks.(His eyes lock on something on the field) Oh, maybe-"

Anirudh adjusted his tactics, using the training equipment to his advantage. He swung his hammer into a training dummy, sending it flying towards Lector. Lector sliced through the dummy with his swords, his movements a blur. Anirudh followed up with a quick succession of strikes, aiming to catch Lector off guard. But Lector's defenses held firm, his swords moving with precision to block each attack.

"Impressive, Anirudh," Lector said, a hint of genuine admiration in his voice. "But you still have much to learn."

Anirudh grinned, "Sliced through that doll even with a wooden sword. I need to be careful of his attacks. However, it seems he is not attacking me"

Hours passed, the room echoing with the sounds of their clash. Anirudh's body ached, but his determination burned brightly. He tried everything—using dolls to throw on Lector, leveraging obstacles to gain an advantage, even feigning exhaustion to lure Lector into a trap. But Lector anticipated every move, his experience and skill unmatched.

Anirudh on his knees while breathing heavily, covered in sweat all over, "I cannot anymore. I cannot even lift my hands, let alone the hammer. My mind is not working at all. It seems my legs have given up on me as well, they feel numb. What do I do? I cannot lose"

Finally, Lector decided to end the session. He flipped the sword in his left hand and cracked his neck. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, his wooden swords a blur of motion. Anirudh barely managed to block the first blow by deciding to sacrifice his forearm in order to save his vital organs, but the sheer speed and power of Lector's attacks overwhelmed him. Lector disarmed Anirudh and delivered a devastating kick to his chest.

Anirudh flew across the room, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. The impact shattered part of the wall and left Anirudh gasping for breath, several bones broken, and his head spinning from multiple concussions, "M-My ches-chest"

Lector sheathed his swords and walked over to Anirudh, his expression one of calm satisfaction. He crouched down and tilted his head, "This marks the beginning of our deal, Anirudh. Learn from this. Grow stronger. Only then will you stand a chance of defeating me."

Anirudh glared at Lector through the pain, his hatred burning brighter than ever. "I will defeat you, Lector. Mark my words."

Lector chuckled, turning away. "I look forward to it. Rest up. We'll continue tomorrow."

As Lector left the room, the band entered and resumed their soft, calming melody, a stark contrast to the fierce battle that had just taken place. Anirudh lay there, battered and bruised, but his resolve unbroken. This was just the beginning.

Elsewhere, Ishan clearly understood the challenge he was put up against.

Vanya said, "These soldiers will not die nor feel any pain. They are trained to do this. You can give me everything you've got. They will automatically be defeated if you throw them out of their rectangular space"

Ishan looked around on the ground and thought, "So each line of soldiers has it's own designated rectangular area. I see it now. I just have to beat them up and throw them out of the area. Since they don't feel any pain, I'll not hold back, my morals are not the same as Avyan"

Determined and enraged, Ishan picked himself up from the floor. His large stature and bulky frame made him a formidable opponent, and he immediately charged at the soldier that hit him. The soldier stood no chance in front of a man like Ishan. His heavy punches and immense strength allowed him to plough through the first five rows, each soldier falling under the sheer force of his blows. He was a bit exhausted but was having fun doing his second favourite thing, showing of his strength. However, as he reached the sixth row, the tide began to turn. The soldiers coordinated their attack and defended each other, making it hard to throw them out one by one, which Ishan had been doing till now. His advantage of size was now being overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies.

Ishan smirked while dusting his clothes, "If I can't push you directly, I'll have to beat you up and throw you guys out. I guess things are going to go bloody"

These soldiers, though silent and expressionless, moved with a coordinated precision that began to overwhelm Ishan. Despite his strength, the relentless barrage of attacks from multiple directions took its toll. His body was soon covered in blood, wounds, and bruises, yet he continued to fight, driven by sheer willpower. He noticed the odd behaviour off these particular soldiers. They felt emotionless, they felt no pain, no fear. They just followed their instructions with utmost respect.

"Why don't you speak?" Ishan yelled between laboured breaths, trying to strike up a conversation in a desperate attempt to find a weakness. But the soldiers remained silent, their faces devoid of any emotion, their actions mechanical and unyielding.

Vanya watched from her chair, sipping her tea with an almost bored expression. She seemed to take a perverse pleasure in Ishan's struggle, her eyes following his every move without a hint of concern.

Time passed in a blur of pain and determination. Ishan fought tirelessly, taking brief rests whenever he managed to create a small gap between himself and the advancing soldiers. He noticed that the soldiers only attacked him if he got close to their rows, else they just stood there in their respective lines. After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to clear nine rows. His body screamed in agony, every muscle burning with exhaustion, but his spirit refused to break.

The tenth row was the final test. Ten unarmed soldiers stood before him, their stances ready, their faces as emotionless as ever. Ishan knew this would be the most challenging fight yet. Even then, he stood up from the ground, after taking some rest and stood in front of the soldiers, ready to face them. His injuries were deep and had to be attended but he ignored every bit of pain in his body.

The battle was brutal. Ishan swung his fists with all his remaining strength, but the soldiers moved with an uncanny agility, dodging and countering his attacks with precision. Every punch he landed seemed to take a piece of his soul, draining him further. Blood poured from his wounds, his vision blurred, and his legs felt like they could give out at any moment. Although, he had more strength than an average soldier but their coordination turned out to be a great obstacle for him.

One soldier landed a powerful kick to Ishan's side, sending him sprawling to the ground. Gasping for air, Ishan forced himself to stand, his resolve unbroken. He fought with every ounce of strength he had left, his movements becoming more desperate and wild. The soldiers pressed in, their silent coordination becoming overwhelming. Ishan fell to the ground. He couldn't feel his limbs anymore. He was out of energy and dehydrated. His mind starting to black out. He thought, "Am I going to die? Am I going to lose? It has been a long time since I lost". He got confused as he started to have visions, old visions. He grinned, his fists tightly clenched together. His heavy breathing started to blow away dust on the ground. His heartbeat raised up. An inner turmoil, suddenly surfaced again. He opened his eyes.

Just when it seemed like Ishan would fail, he found a surge of strength within him. With a primal roar, he launched a final, desperate assault. He shouted in anger, blood coming out of his mouth, "I'll never be a weakling again. I will not let the past repeat itself. This time I'll not be scared papa". His mind flooded with scenes from the past which he forgot a long time ago. This new found motivation gives him the strength to move his feet ahead. His fists flew with a newfound ferocity, catching the soldiers off guard. One by one, they fell, unable to withstand the sheer force of Ishan's rage-fuelled attacks. He held a soldier trying to sneak up on him from his neck and tossed him away. He broke their formation by slamming in like a bull. His bare strength outclassed the coordination of the soldiers. He tackled several of them out of the area.

Finally, the last soldier collapsed, and Ishan stood victorious, though barely. His body was a canvas of blood and bruises, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His left eye was swollen, he couldn't see from it. He saw more soldiers lined up in front of him. "I'll never lose to anyone", as he moved forward, he staggered and collapsed to the ground, Vanya approached, her expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

She crouched beside him, her hand slithering over his battered form. "Impressive," she murmured, her eyes glowing. "You have potential, Ishan. But remember, this is just the beginning."

Ishan's vision faded, his body succumbing to the exhaustion and pain. As darkness overtook him, Vanya's words echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the trials yet to come.