Pralaya stood on the battlefield, still recalling the fight. But now, for the first time in his life, he was actually looking forward to something. Then, he remembered his father's voice telling him to come back as he grabbed his things and ran out.
Pralaya knew exactly what was waiting for him at home, but to him, it was worth it.
He stood in front of the worn-out door, preparing for the inevitable. The moment he opened it, a bottle of alcohol came flying at him. But something was different. To Pralaya, the bottle was moving slowly toward him—almost as if the entire world had entered slow motion. He simply counted the seconds before catching it midair.
His mind was still processing what had just happened when his father suddenly stood up from his chair, grabbed Pralaya, and started cursing him.
"You bastard! You dare run away and ignore me?"
His father punched him in the face, sending him crashing into the wall. Pralaya spat out blood, but his father wasn't done. He kicked him in the stomach and struck him again. Pralaya didn't cry—he was already used to these beatings.
From the corner of his eye, he saw his mother standing there, watching with a blank expression. As always, she said nothing, did nothing. That hurt more than the beating itself.
After ten minutes of relentless abuse, his father grabbed him by the hair, dragged him to his room, and threw him inside.
"You are a cursed child!" his father spat, literally and figuratively, before locking the door.
Pralaya lay on the floor, breathing heavily. His face was wounded, but he didn't seem to care. Maybe it was because he had grown used to the pain, or maybe it was because of the excitement from earlier.
He slowly stood up, leaning against the wall for support. Suddenly, his body began to feel warm. The pain from his wounds started to fade, as if they were healing on their own. He removed his shirt and looked at his chest, confirming his suspicion—his wounds were actually healing.
"Could it be... because of my karmic energy?" he muttered.
Wanting to test his theory, he concentrated deeply, trying to manifest his karmic energy. At first, nothing happened. He must have looked like an idiot, standing there, straining for something unseen. Eventually, exhausted from trying, he collapsed onto his bed.
"Maybe I'm doing it wrong... or maybe I'm missing something," he thought.
As he drifted off to sleep, another thought crossed his mind.
"Why did the cursed spirit leave my body? It was as if... it was afraid of something. I wonder what it was..."
And with that, he fell asleep.
---
Morning arrived. Pralaya woke up feeling refreshed, but something was off. Not only was his body completely healed—there wasn't a single wound left—it was as if last night's injuries had never existed.
More importantly, he could feel his karmic energy. This time, it was different. He could actually see it, feel it. It was translucent and had a liquid-like sensation as it covered his body.
"So this is what karmic energy looks and feels like," he said excitedly.
Walking over to his window, he gazed upon the slums of Gaia with a smile. If any of the lower-class people saw him like this, they would have thought he was crazy.
Just as he was about to leave his room, he remembered—his father had locked the door.
"It might be a while before he opens it..." he thought.
Lying back on his bed, bored with nothing to do, he decided to test his newfound power. Without forcing it this time, he simply focused, and the karmic energy flowed freely through his body. He was still trying to get used to the sensation.
Raising his right hand, he concentrated on channeling his karmic energy into it. His palm suddenly felt stronger. He reached out to touch the wall, but before his hand could even make contact, the sheer amount of karmic energy radiating from it caused the wall to crack.
Eyes widening, he quickly pulled his hand back, not wanting to create more damage.