The boy's smile thinned, and for the first time his gaze drifted inward, as if peering through layers of memory that did not fully exist anymore.
"You asked where I learned this energy," he said softly.
The being nodded. All three faces watched him closely now. The demoness leaned forward with predatory interest, the woman's brows knit in anxious focus, the central god-face unreadable. Even the rings behind it slowed, as though listening.
"I read a book," the boy continued. "Its name was Nirvana… or perhaps Moksha." He shrugged faintly. "Names are unreliable." His eyes lifted toward the bleeding sky. "But it wasn't really a book."
The ground groaned beneath them. Somewhere far away, a mountain of fused heads collapsed, screaming as it fell into the blood-sea.
"It was a stone slate," the boy said. "A simple stone. Cracked. Rough. Yet when I touched it, pages unfolded from it—carved layers emerging endlessly. The more I turned, the more pages appeared." His lips twitched. "It never ended… until one day, it did. When I finished it."
The being's eyes narrowed. "Did you read it completely?"
"For me," the boy replied, "it was complete. For others… it might not be." He paused. "It said only one thing clearly." He tapped his chest lightly. "'One consciousness is the true path to freedom from the slavery of illusion.'"
The demoness head scoffed. "Meaningless."
The being shook its head. "I don't understand it either. Leave philosophy." Its gaze sharpened. "What was written inside?"
The boy inhaled deeply. The air responded, blood mist retreating, petals trembling.
"Breathe fully," he said. "Release fully. Stay in the center. Find the serpent. Awaken the serpent. Walk toward the true soul." His finger lifted and pointed upward, not to the sky, but beyond it. "In simpler words—how the hidden power within a mortal body ascends… there."
The being felt something crawl beneath its skin.
The boy's voice darkened. "At first, I realized I couldn't move my nadis." He smiled bitterly. "So I tried other methods. None worked." His eyes hardened. "I asked other cultivators for guidance."
The battlefield shifted. The skull-trees leaned inward, as if listening.
"They threw me out," the boy said. "Cast me away from their sects, their clans, their teachings." His gaze sharpened, cold and precise. "They forgot how to behave like humans long ago."
The woman's face flinched.
"I found this method before I even knew my downfall," the boy continued. "But I didn't stop. I searched." His tone deepened. "I asked myself, what is cultivation? Why do we cultivate? What is its use?" He laughed once, hollow. "Days and nights passed. I asked many people. None could answer."
A distant thunder cracked, splitting the red sky open briefly.
"It's not that I didn't know other cultivation paths," the boy said. "I chose this one because I knew my body." He placed a hand over his veins. "My nadis are narrow. Small. My breath energy cannot bear violent circulation." His eyes gleamed. "This method suited me."
The being's rings hummed faintly.
"So I searched," the boy said. "I read more. Studied fragments. Tried the path again and again." His smile faded. "Nothing happened."
The blood-river surged, then stilled.
"But one day," he whispered, "when I went back to find the slate…" His fingers curled slightly. "It was gone."
The demoness hissed.
"As if it never existed," the boy said. "Only my memory remained." His eyes darkened. "And even that… began to dilute."
The being stared. "So you found the tablet before you knew your fate."
The boy nodded. "How I came here, I don't know." He looked directly at the being now. "But I know why."
The wind screamed suddenly, lotus petals rotting midair.
"I came to rewrite my fate," the boy said calmly. "To start my own cultivation." His lips curved faintly. "With effort, my fate line changed." He traced a line in the air. "Now it is only a single stroke."
The being felt an unfamiliar chill.
"But before that," the boy said, voice tightening, "I was captured by my own kind. Punished for disobedience." His eyes burned. "That was when I finally understood what cultivation meant."
He sat down then, cross-legged upon blood-soaked stone. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp enough to cut worlds. He looked up at the towering being.
"You are older than me," he said quietly. "So tell me." His gaze bored straight through it. "What does cultivation mean to you?"
The being did not answer immediately.
The battlefield responded instead. The rings behind it ignited slowly. Mountains cracked. The heads embedded within them began chanting incoherently. Lightning clawed downward, tearing the clouds apart.
At last, the being spoke—its voice deep, absolute, layered with conviction.
"Cultivation," it said, "is to defy heaven." Its eyes blazed. "To advance toward a greater godhood. To fear no law imposed by the sky."
Its fists clenched. The air shattered around them.
"To forge the body into vajra," it continued. "To make gods and demons tremble beneath our feet." The demoness smiled viciously. "To crush fate. To dominate destiny."
The woman's face looked distant, almost sorrowful.
"At the end," the being declared, "cultivation is surpassing your past self. Why fear death?" Its grin widened. "When we can cut through all things with power."
The ground split violently, shockwaves ripping outward.
"To conquer death," the being thundered, "that is the true purpose of cultivation."
Silence followed.
Then boy smiled at him.
"Just as you said," he began gently, "I once understood cultivation the same way you do." His eyes reflected the bleeding sky. "Defy the heavens. Clash against fate. Endure endless hardship until the heavens bow." He let out a soft breath. "But I couldn't do it."
The wind slowed. Even the blood-river seemed to listen.
"I failed," he continued. "I became a joke. A laughingstock." His lips curved faintly, but his eyes were empty. "So I searched again. And I realized something strange, this method I found wasn't about defying heaven at all." He tilted his head. "Then I thought why I was suffering hardship from the outside?"
The being's three faces watched closely now. The demoness sneered, the woman frowned, the god-face leaned forward.
"I used this method," the boy said. "Again and again. But I didn't understand a single thing." He paused. "Not until I came here."
The atmosphere shifted. A low hum vibrated through the broken land.
"When I met the sage," the boy continued, "I finally understood what this power was… and how to awaken it." His hand rested over his chest. "More importantly, I understood myself."
His voice grew deeper.
"What is my meaning of cultivation?" he asked quietly. "To know myself." His gaze sharpened. "Why was I born here? Why not elsewhere? Why as a human? Why must I fulfill someone else's purpose?" His tone became almost reverent. "Why is the soul the true one? Eternal. Unified. Why is death the final step for all living things?" His eyes burned. "And what lies beyond it?"
The sky darkened further, clouds twisting like exposed organs.
"At last," the boy said, "I found an answer." He met the being's gaze unflinchingly. "Self-knowing is true cultivation. Knowing yourself. Knowing your soul."
The demoness hissed. "You're rambling."
"So," the boy asked softly, "do you know what truth is in this world?"
The being answered immediately, voice sharp. "Power. You babbling monster."
The boy shook his head once.
"No," he replied. "Death."
The word echoed unnaturally. The ground cracked beneath it.
The being's eyes widened slightly. "So you claim that even immortals will die?" it demanded. "And that truth is nothing but knowing one's soul? That beyond that, nothing holds meaning?"
"Yes," the boy said simply. "Finding myself is my truth." He smiled faintly. "The world can curse me. Laugh at me." His gaze hardened. "But if you stay true to your heart, you'll find your path."
He paused.
"Though," he added quietly, "sometimes staying true to your heart is wrong." His eyes darkened. "Sometimes… you must tear it apart for something greater."
The being recoiled slightly.
"No…" it muttered. "This feeling… I remember something." Its central face twitched violently.
A flash tore through its mind.
A man sat upon a golden lotus, nine radiant rings burning behind him. Beside him stood a monkey, a pig, and before them a heavenly soldier, their bodies broken, almost erased from existence. Chains of law wrapped around the being's form. Pain. Sealing. Endless suppression.
The vision vanished.
The being staggered, breathing hard. Sweat, divine, foul, poured down its face. Its eyes dulled, then snapped back into focus, now burning with rage and fear.
"I… perspired," it thought wildly. "Before this tiny mortal? How dare I?"
It stared at the boy blankly, chest heaving.
Then anger exploded.
"The power you hold," the being roared, "is the same as his!" The rings behind it flared violently. "The one who captured me. The one who sealed me here!" Its voice cracked. "I have never seen this power on this plane."
The demoness head snarled. The woman's eyes widened in horror.
"But I can say this much," the being continued, voice lowering dangerously. "Other than the highest experts, no one can defeat you." Its eyes narrowed. "Perhaps… even they could not, if you had unleashed everything from the start."
The ground shattered outward as it took a step forward.
"But I can still defeat you," it said fiercely. "Yet tell me, where does this power come from?" Its gaze bored into the boy. "What is it called?"
The boy sighed, rubbing his temple as if exhausted by noise. "You're talking too much about yourself," he said mildly. "Calm down."
The being froze.
"Breathe," the boy added casually. "Calm down."
The being inhaled sharply. The red aura withdrew slightly. Its posture straightened. "…Now I am calm."
The air tightened instantly.
Without warning, the being's six weapon-bearing arms struck at once. Blades, chains, wheels, and crushing force tore toward the boy, splitting the land, tearing skull-trees apart. The boy stepped forward—not back—and petals erupted around him, forming shifting walls that screamed as they were shredded.
One weapon pierced through, grazing his shoulder. Blood spilled—black, steaming. The boy didn't flinch.
He raised his hand.
The battlefield folded inward.
The being was thrown back violently, slamming into a mountain of heads, crushing dozens into pulp. The mountain screamed.
The boy walked forward slowly, blood dripping from his fingers, eyes calm, terrifyingly calm.
"You want a name for this power?" he asked softly.
Lightning froze mid-strike. The wind reversed. Even the rings behind the being trembled.
"It doesn't have one," the boy continued. "Names are for systems." He smiled faintly. "This is not a system."
The being pushed itself upright, face twisted, eyes wide with something between terror and ecstasy.
"Enough!" it roared, the rings behind it blazing violently. "What is this energy called?"
The boy stopped a few steps away, gaze piercing, the world groaning around them as if unable to bear what was about to be said, blood mist thickening, petals rotting and reblooming, as the silence stretched—pregnant, suffocating—waiting for the word that might fracture reality itself…
"Kundalini," he said.
The being's lips twisted. "Kundalini?" it repeated with clear annoyance. "What an irritating name."
Its aura surged outward, crushing the ground into powder. "Enough pointless chatter. Let us see whose so-called power reigns supreme. Do you truly expect me to believe this nonsense?"
"I told you my path," the boy replied calmly. "Belief is your problem."
The being began to rise from its throne of bones, divine muscles coiling—
—but the boy's voice suddenly changed.
Deeper. Sharper.
"But you people," he said quietly, "are the ones who hid this power from us." His eyes lifted, burning faintly. "So how can you call it self-proclaimed?"
The being froze mid-motion. "You people?" it echoed. "We never hid such a thing. Nor do we know of it."
The boy nodded slowly. "Then I understand." His gaze sharpened. "Either you forgot. Or you were sealed for too long. Or someone erased it from you." He shrugged lightly. "I don't care."
His eyes gleamed dangerously. "Even if your true body descended here, I could still defeat you."
A sharp clicking sound escaped his tongue, soft, serpentine.
The being took several steps back, then sneered. "I could say the same. You understand this power, yes—but you haven't fully adapted to it." Its eyes narrowed. "Tell me. Who sent you here?"
The boy didn't hesitate. "My aunt."
The being blinked. "Your… aunt?"
"She sent me here once," the boy said. "To help her." He raised his hand. "And to rewrite my fate." His fingers unfurled.
A single, thin line appeared on his palm. Fragile. Incomplete.
The boy opened his other hand.
The being stared. Both palms were almost blank, no destiny lines, no karma marks—only that same faint stroke, trembling like it might vanish at any moment.
Silence fell.
"You are truly heretical," the being said slowly, eyes burning with greed and disgust. "If I kill you here, I will be rewarded with merit."
Inside, another thought writhed. But can I free myself from the curse? Its gaze sharpened. You're hiding something. I'll rip it from your soul.
"Enough," it growled. "Let us fight."
"I didn't mean to provoke you," the boy replied softly. "But some things can only be understood by body, mind, and soul." He stepped forward. "Enough chatter."
The being stood fully now. Its eyes changed—no longer arrogant, but razor-focused. Ancient hunger surfaced.
Both of them smiled.
The world screamed.
The being struck first.
Six arms moved simultaneously—chains lashed, blades descended, wheels of law screamed through the air. The sky split open as crimson lightning rained down. The boy vanished.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared behind the being, palm glowing faintly. He struck—not with force, but with intent.
The being was flung forward, crashing through mountains of skulls. Heads shattered, screaming as they dissolved into ash. The ground buckled, forming a vast crater.
The being roared, rings rotating wildly. Its wounds closed instantly as it lunged again, fist tearing through space itself.
The boy raised one finger.
The punch stopped.
Reality warped around it.
He twisted his wrist, redirecting the force. The shockwave exploded outward, flattening forests, evaporating blood rivers. The boy slid back several steps, boots carving trenches into the stone.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
"So you bleed," the being laughed, landing heavily. "Good."
The boy wiped his lips, smiling faintly. "So do you."
The being looked down. A thin crack had formed across one of its rings, leaking black mist.
Its smile faded.
They clashed again.
Petals rotted midair, transforming into writhing serpents of shadow. The being tore through them, only for the serpents to coil around its limbs, biting into divine flesh. It roared, ripping them apart, but the venom slowed its movements.
The boy appeared above, descending like a falling star, heel crashing down. The impact shattered the land for miles, releasing screams from beneath the earth.
Both staggered back, breathing hard.
Blood. Sweat. Rage.
They stared at each other through the thickening mist, smiles still carved onto their faces—one serene, one feral—as the sky darkened further, fate trembling, the battlefield groaning, and something far deeper than either of them beginning to awaken…
To be Continued...