Chapter 111: The Demonic Realm
The air reeked of decay.
Ram opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the unnatural darkness around him. The world he found himself in was alien—the trees stood crooked and black, their branches like claws stretching into the night. No fruits, no leaves, only withered husks. The soil cracked dry beneath his bare feet, brittle like old bone.
The worst part wasn't what he saw, but what he felt. From every direction came whispers of auras—wild, beastly, and worse… the twisted scent of something unnatural. Demonic.
Ram didn't speak. He never did. His lips pressed into a hard line, expressionless, but his gaze was sharp. He exhaled through his nose, the faint mist of his breath hanging in the air, then began to move.
The sky—if it could even be called that—was endless black. No sun. No stars. No moon. Only night. Yet, when they had entered this realm, it was broad daylight outside.
Time is different here. He noted this silently. His eyes closed briefly, then opened again, calm as ever.
Ram kept walking until he reached the outskirts of the forest where the ground opened into a clearing. The air here was less oppressive, less choking. He stopped. This will do.
His right hand straightened into the shape of a blade. He lifted it and swung. Shhhk! The trunk of a nearby tree fell cleanly. Again. And again. He moved with efficiency—cutting, carrying, stacking—until a crude hut rose in the clearing. Shelter, nothing more.
Ram paused, staring at what he had built. His body was massive, scarred from battles no one here had seen. Yet his face betrayed nothing—only that cold, heavy stare. Inside him, however, he could feel something new. Prana.
Yesterday's victory had changed him. Rudra's gift had changed him. Until now, he had been flesh and bone alone, his survival forged from pain and persistence. But now, Prana moved through him like a second pulse. He didn't understand it fully—but instinct told him he could shape it.
He clenched his fists.
It was time to hunt.
---
Elsewhere in the forest, two princes roamed. Their armors gleamed faintly even in the dark, embossed with emblems of their houses. Their eyes burned with humiliation.
"That brute…," one spat, his voice dripping with resentment. "Yesterday, he humiliated us all. A low-born peasant, stealing the prize that should have been ours."
The other's hands tightened. "If Rudra had told us the rules earlier, we could have bested even Arjun. Instead, that thing stood in the spotlight. While we, heirs of royal blood, were left in the shadows."
They both fell silent for a moment. Then their gazes met, and cruel smiles spread across their faces.
"We cannot touch Rudra. But his dog? Here, in this realm, rules say killing each other brings points."
Their grins widened. "Then let's start with him."
---
Ram had already sensed them. His steps slowed, then stopped. Slowly, he turned his head.
No words. Only his gaze.
The princes froze for an instant under the weight of that look. His eyes were cold, unblinking, like a predator sizing up prey. A shiver ran down their spines before pride ignited their defiance.
"Don't look at us like that!" one of them barked, forcing courage into his tone. "You're nothing before us."
Ram said nothing. His silence was worse than any insult.
The first prince—Kurumaru—lifted his hand. A bow appeared in his grasp, carved from dark wood, glowing faintly with shifting runes. From the string, black clouds gathered, crackling with hidden force. His siddhi: Dark Cloud Summoning.
The second prince—Gandmaru—roared, his muscles swelling grotesquely, veins bulging as his frame doubled in size. His siddhi: Strength Enhancement. Raw power surged in his limbs, the ground cracking beneath his steps.
Ram did not flinch. He stood there, silent as a stone, his massive frame unmoving. Then, slowly, almost mockingly, he tilted his head. His lips didn't part, but his eyes said everything:
"Are you finished?"
The weight of his presence pressed down like a mountain. Even without a word, even without a spark of visible Prana, his aura crushed theirs.
The princes gritted their teeth, shame burning in their veins. Royal blood demanded pride. They could not back down.
Weapons ready, they stepped forward.
Ram rolled his shoulders once, clenched his fists, and took a single step toward them.
The earth groaned beneath his weight.
The fight was about to begin.