The air was thick with the scent of burning wood as Dev stood atop the ruins of the ancient stronghold, his mind consumed by an insatiable hunger for power. The Agnyastra burned within him, its flames dancing along his veins like molten gold, but it was not enough. He needed more.

  He had felt the shift—Shiva had claimed the Nandi Astra. It was a power unlike any other, a force of unbreakable will and immovable strength. Dev clenched his fists, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. If Shiva thought that alone would be enough to stop him, he was mistaken.

  Deep in the heart of the Forbidden Caverns lay the Vāyustra, the Astra of the Wind. An Astra that granted its wielder unmatched speed, precision, and control over the very breath of the cosmos. It was said that only those who could match the storm in its fury could claim it. Dev had no doubt—he would take it by force.

  The journey to the caverns was treacherous, winding through razor-sharp ridges and tunnels lined with traps long forgotten by time. But nothing could slow him down. He tore through obstacles with ruthless efficiency, the Agnyastra’s flames lighting his path as he descended deeper into the darkness.

  At the heart of the cavern stood an ancient monolith, its surface etched with markings lost to history. The air around it pulsed, alive with an unseen force. Dev reached out, his fingers barely brushing against the stone when a powerful gust of wind knocked him back, slamming him against the rocky walls.

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  A low growl filled the cavern as a towering figure emerged from the shadows. A guardian, forged from the very winds that shaped the Astra. Its form was ever-shifting, translucent and untouchable, its eyes glowing with a light that seemed to pierce through Dev’s very soul.

  “You are not worthy,” the guardian’s voice was a thunderous echo, shaking the very foundations of the cavern. “Only one who commands the storm with his spirit may wield the Vāyustra.”

  Dev wiped the blood from his lips, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Then I will bend the storm to my will.”

  The guardian struck first, moving like a tempest, its attacks swift and unrelenting. Dev countered with fire, his flames clashing against the currents of the wind. The battle raged like a war between elements—fire roared, wind howled, the very cavern trembling under their might.

  But Dev was relentless. He studied the storm, its rhythm, its force. And then, in a single calculated moment, he embraced the wind instead of fighting it. He let it guide him, move with him, fuel his strikes rather than resist them. The guardian faltered.

  Dev seized the opportunity, launching forward with a final blow. The guardian let out a deafening roar as its form shattered, dissipating into the very air from which it was born. The monolith cracked open, revealing the Vāyustra, its core radiating a silvery-blue light.

  With a triumphant smirk, Dev reached out, claiming the Astra. A surge of power unlike anything he had known coursed through him. He could feel it—the speed, the precision, the control. He had conquered the wind itself.

  Far away, Shiva felt the disturbance. His eyes darkened with realization. Dev was no longer just a force of destruction. He was a force of nature.

  The battle for supremacy was only just beginning.