Chapter 2: Wings of the Fallen

The cold night wrapped the ruined temple in its icy embrace, but high above, slicing through the heavens, a golden streak raced across the sky.

Arjun — no longer fully human, no longer bound by broken bones — soared with unfamiliar wings, his massive form glinting under the stars.

The world below him looked different now. Sharper. Clearer. Wilder. He could see each leaf trembling on distant trees, hear the heartbeat of small animals hiding under rocks, smell the metallic scent of blood in the farthest winds.

The senses of a true Spirit Beast.

But even as he marveled at this newfound power, a deep hollowness gnawed at his heart.

He had lost everything.

The family of brothers he trusted... gone. The honor he carried... shattered. His human form... lost to betrayal and cruelty.

Yet somehow, in this loss, he had found something greater — something terrifying.

Freedom.

Freedom from human limitations. Freedom from sect politics. Freedom... to rise.

But power without purpose was just another chain.

Where should he go? What should he become?

As the questions echoed within him, his sharp eagle-eyes caught sight of something far below — a campfire, deep in the forbidden forest.

Curiosity tugged at him.

Without thinking, he tilted his massive wings and descended.

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The forest was silent when he landed. With a thunderous flap, he scattered leaves and dust, perching silently atop a jagged rock formation overlooking the camp.

There, a group of rogue cultivators huddled around the fire — laughing, drinking, and boasting loudly about their "glorious deeds."

Arjun’s eyes narrowed.

He recognized the symbol stitched onto their sleeves — The Black Fang Society — a notorious mercenary group known for assassinations, smuggling spirit beasts, and attacking vulnerable villages.

He remembered hearing rumors back at the sect — how Black Fang was responsible for wiping out entire clans, all for a handful of spirit stones.

Disgust rose in Arjun’s heart.

He was no saint. But these men were parasites, feeding on the weak, spreading rot wherever they went.

And suddenly — he realized he had a purpose.

He would cleanse this world. One villain at a time.

---

Without warning, he swooped down.

A golden flash. A gust of wind like a typhoon.

Before the mercenaries could react, a pair of gleaming talons ripped through their camp, tearing apart weapons, scattering fires, and sending men screaming into the night.

"A SPIRIT BEAST!" one of them shouted in terror, scrambling for his sword.

Another tried to unleash a spirit technique — a blade of fire shooting toward Arjun's massive form.

But Arjun was faster.

With a flap of his wings, he unleashed a golden shockwave — pure spiritual force — that crushed the fire attack mid-air and sent the attacker flying into a tree with a sickening crack.

The remaining mercenaries tried to flee, but it was useless.

To a true Spirit Beast awakened by ancient blood, these petty cultivators were nothing more than prey.

Within minutes, the clearing fell silent once more. Only the crackling of dying flames remained.

Arjun stood amidst the wreckage, his feathers faintly glowing in the moonlight.

For the first time since his fall, he felt something stir inside him — not rage, not sorrow, but something fierce and resolute.

Pride.

This was just the beginning.

The human world had cast him aside. But he would not disappear quietly into the shadows.

He would rise, higher than ever before.

From this night forward, a legend would spread across the land — of a golden eagle that descended from the heavens, bringing judgment with wings of fire.

And the name whispered with awe and fear... would be Arjun.

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(End of Chapter 2)