Oblivion's Throne-Chapter 89: Sigils

Orion's mind was still processing everything Aryan had revealed. Hekatryon, Sensoria, and now Akshara—a force that went beyond power, something that defined a warrior's very presence. The idea of it stirred something inside him, but he needed clarity.

He exhaled slowly, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece it together. "So what exactly is Akshara? You said it wasn't just energy, but also not just an extension of Hekatryon." His voice carried a mix of curiosity and skepticism, his gaze fixed on Aryan.

Aryan nodded approvingly. "Good. You're asking the right questions." He raised his hand, and the air around it shimmered. Orion realized the subtle distortion wasn't just an illusion. Aryan's arm looked twice present, as if reality was catching up to him.

Aryan opened his mouth to explain, but Orion cut in. "Also, seriously—what kind of name is Akshara? "

Aryan gave him a flat look. "It means 'imperishable' in the oldest recorded Hekatryon language."

"Akshara is your anchor to existence," Aryan explained. "It is not just power—it is the imprint of your actions on the world. Every movement, every battle, every moment of struggle leaves a resonance within you, and that resonance lingers. Some call it a warrior's presence, others call it aftershock. But in truth, it is your connection to something far greater."

He let his hand fall to his side. "The Xenothalamus is the key," he continued. "Once activated, it allows you to enter your Mindscape—a space where your Akshara takes form. There, you will find the foundation of your strength: Sigils."

Orion frowned, his brows knitting together. "Sigils?" he echoed, his voice laced with confusion.

Aryan smirked, his eyes gleaming with a knowing edge. "You could call them inscriptions of intent," he said. "They are representations of how your Akshara manifests. Every warrior's Sigils are different. Some manifest chains, some manifest flames, others manifest rivers that flow endlessly."

He tapped Orion lightly on the forehead. "And before you ask, no, you cannot simply 'choose' your Sigils. They are discovered, earned through battle, refined through meditation. The more you cultivate Akshara, the deeper into your Mindscape you go, and the more Sigils you awaken."

A slow realization dawned on Orion. "So... when you attacked earlier, the way your movements felt like they were happening ahead of time—was that your Akshara?"

Aryan's grin widened. "Exactly. My Sigils allow me to move ahead of my opponent's perception, leaving a mirage of my actions before they happen."

Orion's pulse quickened. A power that wasn't just about raw strength, but understanding oneself, anchoring oneself to reality. If he could access this Mindscape, if he could unlock these Sigils, then he would certainly grow stronger.

Aryan's expression turned sharp. "Enough talk. You need to experience it yourself."

He stepped forward, raising two fingers. "I'm going to force your Xenothalamus to activate. You will enter your Mindscape for the first time."

Orion swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Alright," he said.

Aryan smirked, his eyes gleaming. "Try not to die," he said, pressing his fingers against Orion's forehead.

—and the world collapsed into darkness.

Orion gasped as his senses spiraled, his body dissolving into nothingness. He wasn't falling. He wasn't floating. He simply wasn't.

Then—

A pull.

Light bloomed in the abyss, and then—a storm erupted.

Thunder cracked through the void, and Orion found himself standing on nothing. Beneath his feet, winds roared, lightning forked across the sky, and the storm stretched endlessly around him. The sky itself was fractured, flickering in its shattered expanse, unreachable.

This was his Mindscape.

And within the storm, he saw three distant stars within the maelstrom.

His Sigils.

He took a step forward, and suddenly, the storm reacted fiercely—winds howled, the ground beneath him shifted, trying to reject his presence. It was like the storm itself was telling him you are not worthy.

Then, his eyes locked onto the first Sigil.

A single name burned into his mind. Vyomnetra's (The Sky Sovereign) Eyes.

For an instant, clarity pierced through the storm—his vision expanded, the cracks in the sky aligned. He could see beyond what he was normally used to see, brief flashes of movement, as if the world had slowed just enough for him to grasp its flow.

But it didn't last.

His head pounded, his sight blurred, and the storm swallowed his perception again. His Vyomnetra's Eyes had flickered open—but he couldn't control it.

Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward, reaching for the second Sigil. Stride

A sensation flooded his body—weightlessness, speed, motion without friction.

He stepped, and suddenly, he was somewhere else.

Or rather—he had moved too fast, too far. His balance shattered, and he tumbled, barely catching himself before the storm swallowed him whole.

He had activated Stride without understanding it—his movement had become too sharp, too precise, without his control.

But there was still one more Sigil.

Through the storm, he reached out—and as his fingers neared the last pulse of power, it ignited. Spark

A burning heat surged through his arms. Fire danced at his fingertips, and lightning crackled through his body, demanding release.

He clenched his fists—and the energy flared, wild, unstable.

The flames in his hands fizzled out before they could fully form. The lightning jolted through his body painfully, uncontrolled.

He had touched the roots of his power, but none of it was his to wield yet.

And the storm raged against him.

The winds shrieked, the world twisted, and he felt himself being pulled under—he had lingered too long, his presence still too weak to command his own Mindscape.

Then—a sharp force yanked him back.

The storm vanished.

Orion's eyes snapped open, his breath ragged. His body felt heavy, as if he had been submerged in something far deeper than water.

Aryan was crouched in front of him, studying him carefully. "How many?"

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Orion nodded, his throat dry. "Three Sigils... Vyomnetra's Eyes, Stride, and Spark."

A rare flicker of approval crossed Aryan's face. "Hmm."

Orion flexed his fingers, still feeling the ghost of lightning between them. His movements felt different, as if the storm had left a mark on him. He had glimpsed his power, but it had also overwhelmed him.

"That was just the first step," Aryan warned. "You touched upon them, but you haven't earned their approval yet."

Orion eyed the glowing sigils before him, their intricate patterns shifting as if breathing. A strange weight pressed down on him, but he wasn't sure why. "So... you are saying these sigils are sentient?" he asked, hesitant.

Aryan let out a short breath. "Some believe Sigils have a will of their own," he said. "The way they resist, the way they react when you approach them in the Mindscape."

Orion frowned. "It seems you don't see it that way." he asked, putting his arm under his chin in contemplation.

Aryan shrugged. "Hard to say. There are people who swear their Sigils rejected them, refusing to manifest unless properly acknowledged."

Orion shivered. The idea unsettled him. "That... doesn't make sense. They're just part of Akshara, right? Just a power you unlock?"

Aryan gave him a knowing look. "Then why do some people never unlock theirs? Why do some die before ever manifesting even a single Sigil?" He gestured toward the glowing symbols before them. "Maybe they're just reflections of the user. Or maybe they really do have their own conditions for acceptance."