Outside the cave.
The three sat gathered around a low, steady fire.
Two travel tents had been pitched a short distance apart, and the horses were secured nearby, their reins tied carefully to driven stakes. From a distance, it would have looked like any ordinary group of travelers resting for the night.
If not for where they were.
They had made camp at the edge of one of the three great Mana Dead Zones of the subcontinent.
The air itself felt wrong here—thin, heavy, and strangely hollow all at once.
Naga stood for a moment, scanning the darkening horizon before letting his gaze settle on the cave entrance.
"Looks like we'll have to spend the night here," he said quietly.
Gopala sat near the fire, staring into the flames. He didn't respond.
Mina hadn't moved her gaze from the cave at all.
"…Yes," she said at last. "It seems like it."
The fire cracked softly between them.
After a moment, Naga glanced toward her.
"You work in the shadows, don't you?" he asked.
Mina shifted slightly but didn't look away from the cave.
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
Naga rested his forearms on his knees.
"Then why do you seem concerned about the Rajkumar?" he asked. "Are your superiors that terrifying?"
That made her blink. She finally looked at him.
"I'm not concerned," she said evenly. "Curious."
She lifted one hand slightly, feeling the faint pulse beneath her skin.
"You've noticed it too," she continued. "The mana he left with us—it keeps flaring, then settling again. Over and over."
Her gaze drifted back to the cave.
"I was wondering what's causing it… and whether it's because of him. After all… this is his mana."
Naga gave a quiet shrug.
"Who knows," he said. "We stopped trying to understand what he does a long time ago."
Mina was silent for a moment.
"…Is that so," she murmured.
After that, no one spoke.
They ate their simple meal in near silence, the firelight flickering across their faces. When the night deepened and the cold settled in, they took turns standing watch.
And one by one, the others slept—
while the cave remained open and waiting in the dark.
___________________________________________
Splat. Splat. Splat.
The mace rose and fell again and again, crushing everything in its path—bone, scale, and flesh bursting apart under its weight. Blood and dark viscera coated the stone floor, splashing up the cave walls in thick streaks. Burn marks scarred the rock where bursts of heat had detonated moments earlier.
Three floating spheres of fire drifted overhead, casting a harsh, flickering light over the carnage.
Rajkumar Hamsa stood at the center of it all, breathing hard.
With one final swing, he crushed the last of the massive reptilian creatures that had swarmed him. The spiked head of the mace sank deep, and the body beneath it went still.
Silence followed.
Hamsa staggered back a step.
He was drenched—blood soaked through his clothes, mixed with dirt and ash, clinging to his skin. A jagged tear ran through his cheek, leaving a gaping hole where flesh should have been, the edges raw and exposed. Several shallow cuts covered his body, their severity dulled only by the constant pressure of the mana shield that had taken most of the damage for him.
He lifted his head slowly, staring at the broken, spined carcass beneath his weapon.
"…Yeah," he muttered hoarsely. "Stay down."
After a moment, he began walking again.
The tunnel sloped slightly, and faint echoes reached him—the distant, steady sound of running water. He followed it until the passage opened into a wide cavern where a narrow underground stream flowed over smooth stone.
Without hesitation, he knelt and plunged his face into the water.
He scrubbed away blood and grime as best he could, though the torn flesh along his cheek made the movement awkward and painful. When he finished, he pulled a water gourd from his pouch—
Empty.
He stared at it for a long moment.
"…Great."
His eyes drifted back to the stream. He hesitated… then leaned forward and drank directly from it. The water slipped through the hole in his cheek, making the process slow and frustrating, but he forced himself to swallow what he could.
Finally, he sat back heavily against a rock.
"Man… that was a pain in the ass," he said aloud, voice echoing faintly through the cavern.
"I never want to see anything like that again."
He closed his eyes briefly.
The adrenaline was fading. The heat of battle was draining away. And beneath it—
Pain.
Deep, spreading, insistent.
Yeah… I need to heal. Now.
He let his defenses relax slightly, dismissing two of the floating fire orbs. Only one remained, hovering quietly and casting a softer glow.
Then he began.
Mana gathered at his core and flowed outward under careful control. He directed it first toward the most severe injuries—stabilizing torn muscle, sealing ruptured vessels, knitting what he could without overstraining damaged tissue. The bleeding slowed. The worst structural damage was repaired.
But full healing?
That would take days.
When the immediate danger passed, he shifted focus—drawing in ambient mana, absorbing what he could to replenish his depleted reserves.
After several long minutes, he pushed himself upright.
Mana flowed into his eyes.
Their light brown color faded, turning pale—almost white—his vision shifting as layers of energy revealed themselves around him. It still hurt to look at the world this way… but far less than it once had.
He moved forward slowly, scanning.
Then—
A sound.
A sharp, drawn-out hiss.
Followed by the heavy scrape of something enormous shifting against stone.
He froze.
And then he heard a voice.
"You really made it here after all."
Cold. Calm. Almost pleased.
Hamsa turned.
A colossal serpent loomed across the cavern, its massive body coiled against the stone like a living wall. Its head alone towered above him, eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light.
Instinct screamed.
He raised his guard—but exhaustion crushed his reaction speed. And beneath everything else—
Fear.
Deep, instinctive, irrational.
Snakes.
"…Fuck no—" he choked. "I did not sign up for th—"
His vision went black.
He collapsed.
The serpent moved instantly, catching him before he struck the ground. With careful precision, it lowered him into the center of its coils, its massive body forming a protective barrier around him.
It watched him for a moment.
"…Yes," it murmured quietly. "That was expected."
The serpent shifted slightly, adjusting its coils so that nothing from the cavern could reach him.
"No matter," it continued. "We can speak like this."
A faint glow gathered around Hamsa as the serpent's mana enveloped him.
And the cavern fell silent once more.
_________________________________________
Hamsa woke with a jolt.
He had expected darkness—coils, stone, the damp breath of a cavern. Instead, he stood in an endless white expanse.
No walls. No doors. No sound.
Silence pressed in from every direction.
His pulse quickened as he scanned the emptiness—until he noticed a lone figure seated on a chair some distance away.
"Arjun?" he whispered.
The figure flickered.
Hamsa blinked.
It changed.
He blinked again.
Another face.
The form shifted again and again—people from this life… and the one before. Faces long buried in memory surfaced and dissolved like mist.
At last, he rubbed his eyes hard.
When he looked again, the figure had settled.
It was him.
Not as he was now—but as he had once been. His old body. His old face.
"Hello there," his former self said calmly. "I imagine you're confused. Don't worry. We're inside your mind. And as for your body—"
He lifted his right hand. An image shimmered into existence beside him.
"As you can see, it's perfectly safe. Wrapped in my coils. I'm even healing you. Look closely."
The vision sharpened.
Hamsa saw himself—unconscious, bound within the massive coils of a colossal serpent.
A chill ran down his spine. His stomach twisted.
"Is that really how you show gratitude?" the figure asked, mildly irritated. "I am helping you."
"…Sorry," Hamsa muttered.
They stood facing one another in silence.
"Could you change into someone else?" Hamsa asked, scratching his cheek. "It's… strange talking to my old body."
"Why?" the other replied, lips curling into a smug grin. "Did you have someone specific in mind?" he added, voice deliberately suggestive.
For a heartbeat, Hamsa simply stared.
Then he stepped forward and smacked the top of his past self's head.
"What kind of guy do you think I am?" he demanded, thoroughly annoyed.
"Relax." The being rubbed his head. "I was joking. Trying to lighten the mood."
Hamsa's expression made it clear he was not amused.
"Well, explain." He folded his arms. "I have questions. Starting with—who are you? And why did you drag me here?"
"Must everything be so serious?" the other sighed. "Fine."
A pair of sofas materialized behind him. He walked over and sat. After a brief hesitation, Hamsa followed.
"As for who I am…" The being began counting on his fingers. "One, two, three, four… Right. I am one of seven beings at the very top of this world's food chain."
"What does that even mean?"
"In simple terms," he said smoothly, "I am one of the seven most powerful existences in this world."
"I got that part. What I don't understand is how you exist at all. Based on everything I know about biology and mana, something like you should be impossible."
The being chuckled.
"You're thinking too narrowly. You cannot measure me—or the other six—by ordinary standards. We possess enough mana that a battle between any two of us would be an extinction-level event."
He leaned back.
"As for our origins? Even we aren't certain. Our best guess is that the era we were born in allowed such beings to emerge. After the seventh rose to power, we gathered and agreed there would not be an eighth. It was… destabilizing the world."
He shrugged lightly.
"For most of the millennia that followed, I slept. I woke roughly two thousand years ago. A thousand years back, certain events forced me to act. Since then, I've sustained myself on the mana in this region—and two other dead zones on this subcontinent."
Hamsa processed the information in silence.
"…We can return to that later," he said at last. "Why bring me here?"
"I told you in your dream," the being replied. "You are special. And after a very long time of boredom, I decided to make my existence interesting."
"Special how? And I'm not the first, am I?" Hamsa asked warily.
"You're the only one still alive—that's how," he said lightly. "The last two sparked what you would call a world war. The aftermath created those mana dead zones."
"A war…" Hamsa murmured, recalling fragments of history.
"Fine," he said, voice firm now. "Then what are these 'perks' you promised?"
The being spread his arms grandly.
"The perk is—drumroll—me."
Hamsa stared.
"You're an ancient entity in the body of a giant snake. I know almost nothing about you. How exactly is that a benefit?" His eyes narrowed. "You can't accompany me outside in that form. And if you had to pull me into my own head to speak, long-distance communication clearly isn't easy. Also—you're a snake. Why would I accept th—"
He cut off abruptly.
Something latched onto his leg.
Hamsa looked down.
His past self was clinging to him, eyes brimming with tears.
"Come on, don't say that," he whined. "I can leave my body and exist freely—if I obtain an anchor."
Panic shot through Hamsa. He shook his leg frantically, trying to dislodge him, but the being only clung tighter, still pleading.
"Okay, okay!" Hamsa shouted. "I'll accept you—just get off me!"
The being's face lit up instantly.
He loosened his grip—
Only to be flung backward by the force of Hamsa's frantic shaking, skidding across the spotless white floor.