The moment Pralaya stepped through the swirling space, he felt as though he was being pulled into an endless void. His body was weightless, yet simultaneously compressed by an invisible force. Strange whispers echoed in his ears, distant yet oddly familiar, like fragmented voices calling out from a forgotten past.
Then, with a sudden jolt, he was expelled from the void. His body hit the cold marble floor hard, sending a sharp wave of pain through every fiber of his being.
"Hhh—ugh, that hurt," Pralaya groaned, his voice raspy as he pushed himself up, still disoriented.
Before he could fully register his surroundings, a familiar voice reached him.
"Welcome to the Seven Scriptures, kid," Arun said, stretching out his hand.
Pralaya blinked, his vision adjusting, and when he finally took in the view around him—his breath caught in his throat.
Before him lay an awe-inspiring spectacle, a floating city unlike anything he had ever seen. Seven colossal islands hovered in the sky, each resting on massive metal discs that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. The islands were connected by long, elegant bridges, their intricate designs glowing faintly against the dark expanse of space. Towering structures adorned each island, some resembling ancient temples while others bore the sleek elegance of advanced civilizations.
But it was the sky itself that left Pralaya utterly speechless.
The space around them was nothing short of ethereal. Endless nebulas swirled in a cascade of colors—vivid blues, deep purples, radiant golds—blending seamlessly with constellations that pulsed like living veins of light. Millions of stars hung in the abyss, each one twinkling like a beacon in the endless night.
"How… how does such a place even exist?" Pralaya finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.
Arun smirked, amused by his reaction.
"This place doesn't exist in our realm," he said simply.
Pralaya turned to him, still in awe. "Then… where are we?"
Arun glanced upward toward the shifting nebulas. "This place doesn't exist anywhere in our realm. It's an imaginary space—a dimension created by an extremely powerful Śūnyavāda."
Pralaya furrowed his brows, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of such an ability. To create an entire world… how powerful would one have to be? The very thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Before he could dwell on it further, the air around them shifted. A sudden gust swept through the marble platform as three figures descended from the sky with an eerie grace.
The first two were men clad in long red and black coats, layered over dark tunic and shadowy trousers. Their movements were sharp and precise, like honed blades waiting to strike. But it was the third figure who immediately caught Pralaya's attention.
A woman.
She wore the same red and black uniform, but unlike the men, her presence was commanding in a different way. Her long black hair cascaded down to her chest, sleek and straight, framing her flawless features. Her dark eyes—so deep they resembled the void itself—seemed to pierce straight through him. She was beautiful, but there was something chilling about her presence.
To Pralaya's shock, all three figures bowed deeply before Arun.
The sight stunned him.
Then, the woman spoke.
"Lord Arun," she said, her voice smooth yet firm. "You have finally returned."
The title echoed in Pralaya's mind. Lord? He turned to Arun, expecting his usual playful smirk, but what he saw instead unsettled him.
Arun's entire demeanor had changed. Gone was the easygoing air, the teasing grin. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and in its place stood someone else entirely—someone heavier, more imposing.
He closed his eyes briefly before exhaling in mild exasperation.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" Arun muttered.
The woman—Astrid—didn't so much as flinch. "You know I can't do that."
Pralaya watched their exchange in silence, realization dawning upon him. They know each other. But more than that—Arun holds authority here.And then, for the first time since arriving in this strange realm, Pralaya realized something.
The Seven Scriptures weren't just a name. They were an actual ruling body. And Arun—his carefree, nonchalant mentor—wasn't just some skilled warrior. He held power. Real power.
After a pause, Arun sighed and turned to Pralaya.
"Let me introduce you," he said, waving a hand toward the woman. "This is Astrid, the commander and leader of the Dark Disciples."
Astrid studied Pralaya intently, her dark gaze analyzing every inch of him.
"And this," Arun continued, "is Pralaya. A boy I found in the slums of Gaia."
Pralaya shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. He could feel the weight of her judgment in those sharp eyes.
Arun continued, "Astrid, take Pralaya to the Dark Disciples' housing. Get him a room, some food, and let him rest."
Pralaya finally spoke. "And where are you going?"
His casual tone seemed to catch Astrid and the other two men off guard, but they said nothing.
Arun, however, simply smirked. "I have some business to take care of. I'll find you later."
Without waiting for a response, he pushed Pralaya toward Astrid.
"Astrid," he asked, "how many of the Kings are here right now?"
Astrid's expression remained unreadable. "Only one, Lord Arun."
Arun clicked his tongue. "Figures. Only Michael, as usual," he murmured, his gaze shifting toward one of the distant islands.
Then, before Pralaya could react, Arun vanished—disappearing into thin air like he had never been there at all.
Astrid turned to Pralaya. "Let's go."
As they walked across the bridge connecting the islands, Astrid suddenly spoke.
"How did you meet Lord Arun?"
Pralaya shrugged. "We met in the slums. Though, at the time, he tried to kill me."
Astrid raised a brow, intrigued. "And why was that?"
In response, Pralaya extended his hand, and in an instant, a dark, twisted mask materialized in his palm.
"For this," he said simply.
The moment the mask appeared, Astrid and the two men froze. Their eyes widened in recognition.
Astrid's gaze sharpened. The Curse Mask of Kali… she thought,"
"who is this boy and How does he possess the Curse Mask of Kali"
A heavy silence followed, but no one spoke further.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived at another floating island. Unlike the pristine elegance of the first, this one had an entirely different aura.
It was a city.
Buildings of varying sizes stretched across the island, their architecture a strange blend of old and new. Stone roads wound through the area, lined with towering statues of robed figures, their faces obscured by hoods. Strange symbols flickered on the walls, pulsing faintly with energy.
As they walked, Pralaya felt the weight of countless stares on him.
Whispers.
Who is that?
Why is he with the Commander?
Is he a new recruit?
Unbeknownst to him, high above the city, a girl sat perched on a railing, her expression unreadable as she observed him.
Finally, they arrived at a smaller building on the outskirts. Astrid gestured toward a door.
"You'll be staying here for now," she said. "Clean up. I'll send someone to bring you food later."
Without another word, she turned and left.
Pralaya stepped inside.
The room was modest. A single bed, a wooden desk, and a small window overlooking the city below. Nothing extravagant. Nothing luxurious.
And yet—
As he collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, he exhaled slowly.
It was warm.
Warmer than anything he had ever known in the slums.