The moon looked close enough to touch.

  It always did on Distantmoon Island.

  Visitors from distant continents traveled for weeks just to see it. They said nowhere else in the world did the moon appear so large, so bright, or so strangely alive.

  Tonight it hung low above the ocean like a silver eye watching the world.

  Waves rolled slowly against the shore.

  And beneath that moonlight, a boy was punching the air.

  “Again.”

  The old voice came from behind him.

  Arjun inhaled and raised his fists.

  Sweat ran down his forehead, but he didn’t stop.

  He stepped forward and threw another strike.

  His fist cut through the night air.

  Then another.

  And another.

  The old man watched silently.

  Arjun’s movements were not perfect, but they were relentless. Even when his arms trembled, he continued.

  Finally—

  “Enough.”

  Arjun stopped and bent forward, breathing hard.

  The old man stepped closer, his long grey beard swaying gently in the ocean wind.

  “You push your body too far,” the old master said.

  Arjun wiped sweat from his face.

  “If I don’t push it… it won’t improve.”

  The old man studied him quietly.

  “Your determination is admirable,” he said. “But your body is not like others.”

  Arjun frowned slightly.

  He had heard those words many times before.

  The master crouched and picked up a small stick, drawing a diagram in the sand.

  “This,” he said, drawing smooth flowing lines, “is how Divine Flow moves through a normal body.”

  Then he scratched another pattern beside it.

  But this one twisted and crossed itself like tangled roots.

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  “And this,” the master said quietly, “is yours.”

  Arjun stared at the drawing.

  “Is it… bad?”

  The old man hesitated.

  “Not bad.”

  He paused.

  “Strange.”

  The wind shifted.

  Far out at sea, moonlight shimmered across the water like scattered silver.

  “Your blood and nerves,” the master continued, “are different from other humans. Nearly sixty percent of your internal pathways twist in unusual patterns.”

  Arjun flexed his fingers.

  “Is that why I take longer to recover?”

  “Yes.”

  The master nodded.

  “When others suffer wounds, their Divine Flow repairs the body quickly.”

  He tapped the twisted drawing.

  “But your energy moves unpredictably.”

  Arjun looked back at the ocean.

  “So I’ll always be slower than other fighters.”

  The old man smiled faintly.

  “Not slower.”

  He erased both drawings with his foot.

  “Different.”

  Arjun didn’t respond.

  He simply raised his fists again.

  “Can we continue training?”

  The old man chuckled softly.

  “You truly are stubborn.”

  They resumed.

  Arjun stepped forward.

  Punch.

  Kick.

  Spin.

  Strike.

  The rhythm of martial arts filled the quiet beach.

  Above them the moon shone even brighter.

  The old master suddenly stopped.

  “…Hmm.”

  Arjun noticed.

  “What is it?”

  The old man looked up.

  “The moon.”

  Arjun followed his gaze.

  It looked the same as always.

  Huge.

  Beautiful.

  But something about its light tonight felt… strange.

  The master’s voice grew quiet.

  “The Bloom Cycle approaches.”

  Arjun blinked.

  “You mean…”

  “The Shiv Seed.”

  Even on a peaceful island like Distantmoon, everyone knew that name.

  The Shiv Seed.

  A divine plant that bloomed once every eighteen years.

  When it bloomed, they said a god’s face appeared within its petals.

  And whoever reached it at that moment would become the true leader of their origin race.

  Arjun had heard the story many times.

  Most people treated it as legend.

  But explorers and warriors across the world believed otherwise.

  “Do you think someone will find it this time?” Arjun asked.

  The old master looked toward the horizon.

  “Someone always tries.”

  The wind grew colder.

  “Many leave home chasing it.”

  He glanced back at Arjun.

  “Few return.”

  Silence settled between them.

  The ocean waves continued their quiet rhythm.

  Finally Arjun spoke.

  “…I want to see it.”

  The master raised an eyebrow.

  “The Shiv Seed?”

  Arjun nodded slowly.

  “I want to see where the world leads.”

  The old man watched him for a long moment.

  Then he smiled.

  “Your parents would worry if they heard that.”

  Arjun laughed quietly.

  “They’re traders. They’re never home long enough to stop me.”

  The master sighed.

  “You truly are a child of wandering winds.”

  They turned back toward the village.

  Lanterns flickered along the wooden paths of Distantmoon.

  Fishermen were returning with their boats.

  Children ran through the streets chasing fireflies.

  It was peaceful.

  Small.

  Safe.

  But somewhere beyond the endless ocean…

  God Plants were beginning to awaken.

  And across the world, explorers were preparing.

  The search for the Shiv Seed would soon begin.

  Arjun looked back at the enormous moon one last time.

  Something inside him stirred.

  A strange feeling.

  As if the world itself was calling him forward.

  He clenched his fists.

  “Whatever happens…”

  He whispered to himself.

  “…let’s see it to the end.”

  Behind him, deep within the forest of Distantmoon Island—

  something suddenly moved.

  A pair of burning orange eyes opened in the darkness.

  And far across the sea…

  embers flickered in the night.

  The Rally Burn Order had begun moving.

  The Bloom Cycle was coming.

  And the world of Nilavaanam was about to change.

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