As Pralaya made his way through the burning ruins of the slums, the world around him felt like a nightmare. The air was thick with smoke, and the scent of charred flesh and destruction clawed at his throat. Flames danced on broken buildings, casting twisted shadows, and the screams of the dying echoed through the night. But none of it mattered — not the fire, not the chaos.
He only had one thought.
Home.
When he finally reached the crumbling structure that had once been his house, his heart plummeted. Half the building had been blown apart — and the damage was centered right where his family's apartment was.
Pralaya's breath hitched. Dread curled in his stomach like a living thing.
"Mom! Dad!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
He ran toward the entrance, only to skid to a stop. The way inside was blocked — a mass of collapsed debris and shattered concrete sealed the doorway.
No… No, no, no…
His mind spun, scrambling for a solution. He looked up, and his eyes landed on an open balcony five floors above.
I can make it, he thought. I have to make it.
Ignoring the pain still burning through his body, Pralaya forced his battered limbs to move. Karmic energy surged through him, and agony erupted like wildfire. His muscles spasmed. His veins felt like they were tearing apart. He fell to one knee, coughing up blood. But still, he pushed forward.
He jumped.
The ground cracked beneath the force of his leap, and the balcony rushed toward him. His fingers stretched out — inches away — but the pain flared again, white-hot and merciless.
He missed.
Pralaya's body plummeted. But before he could hit the ground, something caught him.
He felt it — a surge of unfamiliar karmic energy wrapping around him like invisible hands. The force lifted him effortlessly, guiding him upward. Moments later, his feet landed softly on the balcony.
Pralaya whirled around, scanning the burning slums below for his mysterious savior. But all he saw was fire and death. Whoever it was… they were already gone.
No time for this.
He turned and ran.
Far below, in the heart of the burning slums, a lone figure stood amidst the devastation, watching the building with a faint, amused smile.
---
Pralaya reached his family's apartment — or what was left of it. The walls were caved in. The floor was littered with broken furniture and shattered glass. A massive hole yawned where the living room used to be.
"Dad! Mom!" he called out desperately.
A faint sound — a low, pained groan — answered him. It came from his parents' bedroom.
Pralaya ran.
He found his father pinned beneath a pile of rubble. The man's face was streaked with blood and ash — and even now, he was drunk. The familiar stench of alcohol clung to him.
"Dad! Hang on!" Pralaya cried, hauling the debris off him. "Where's Mom? Where—"
His father raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the corner of the room.
Pralaya turned — and his world shattered.
His mother's body lay broken and still, her head crushed beneath a massive slab of the wall. Blood stained the ground around her, dark and unforgiving.
He stared, his mind going blank. A single tear slipped down his cheek.
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then his karmic energy surged — wild and furious. The air around him grew heavy. The ground trembled. Even his drunken father recoiled at the sheer pressure rolling off him.
But Pralaya didn't lose control. He swallowed the rage. The pain. The grief.
He turned back to his father and pulled him to his feet without a word. Together, they stumbled toward the exit.
---
They made it outside — and the world exploded.
Something crashed through the building behind them, sending shards of stone and metal flying. Pralaya spun around, dragging his father back — and froze.
It stood before them.
The Śūnyayoma.
Three stories tall, it loomed like a nightmare given form. Its body was a grotesque amalgamation of twisted flesh, its four arms ending in razor-sharp claws. Its face was a void — a black, endless nothing — save for a wide, jagged mouth. Four enormous, black wings unfurled from its back, casting shadows across the burning slums.
It opened its mouth — and screamed.
The sound was an abomination, a chorus of countless voices layered on top of each other in a shriek that shattered the air. Pralaya's head felt like it was splitting open. His knees buckled, his vision swam. Beside him, his father fell, clutching his skull.
"Dad—"
A sharp pain exploded in his head.
His father had hit him.
Stunned and dizzy, Pralaya collapsed. Blood trickled down his face from the wound.
"Be useful for once in your life," his father sneered. His eyes were wild, his face twisted in desperation. "Sacrifice yourself for me. Stay here and keep it busy — long enough for me to escape."
He turned and ran.
Pralaya lay there, dazed and bleeding, as his father's figure disappeared into the smoke.
The Śūnyayoma turned its faceless void toward him.
Its mouth opened wide, and the air around it began to distort. Karmic energy condensed into a crackling sphere of black and purple light
Dreos.
A beam of condensed destruction, traveling at the speed of light.
The sphere fired.
But before the beam could reach him —
A figure appeared.
The stranger's sword flashed, and the beam split apart, dispersing harmlessly into the air.
Pralaya stared in shock.
The man stood tall and composed, dressed in black with a wide-brimmed hat tilted low over his face. Three swords hung from his waist, and his presence radiated calm strength.
"The Sword of Dharma…" Pralaya whispered.
The man glanced down at him and smiled.
"You look like hell, kid," he said lightly.
Pralaya struggled to his feet, his head still spinning. "You… you're the one who helped me. You lifted me to the balcony."
The man's smile widened. "Sharp. Yeah, that was me."
"Let me help you fight it," Pralaya said, his voice shaking.
The man didn't answer. He simply took off his hat and placed it on Pralaya's head.
"Sit your ass down, kid," he said. "You're in no condition to fight."
Pralaya clenched his fists. "I've been training—"
"For one day," the man cut in dryly. "And you nearly killed yourself. I've been watching you, you know."
Pralaya blinked. "You… You were the man in rags. In the junkyard. The one I bumped into."
"Bingo." The man grinned. "And that's how I know you're not ready. Hell, you're barely strong enough to take on an Awakened Śūnyayoma — and that thing over there?" He tilted his head toward the monstrous creature. "That's a Forsaken."
Pralaya's breath caught.
Sunyayoma have seven evolutionary stages
1. Awakened
2. Forsaken
3. Terror
4. Tyrant
5. Damon Lord
6. Sovereign
7. Transcendent Sovereign
And Forsaken-level Śūnyayoma were far beyond his current ability. Even at full strength, he wouldn't stand a chance.
"You get it now?" the swordsman asked quietly. "If you try to fight that thing… YOU WILL DIE.
Pralaya didn't answer. He didn't have to. The truth was written all over his face.