Darkness. Utter darkness. Nothing seen. Nothing heard.
Until a piercing cry of pain tore through.
"Shh! Don't move, pest!"
A soldier's voice. Rough. Impatient. Cotton dabbed against charred flesh—medical lotion, cold, burning.
Where am I?
Vision blurred. Colours bled back, pushing the darkness aside. Dim surroundings. Small candles on both walls—low, faint orange glow that flickered and danced. In front, dark cold steel bars.
Alive. He let the thought surface. Still alive.
Gah. Another pained cry. Uncontrollable.
"Shut up, scum!"
The soldier's shout was automatic. Bored.
Bruised marks on Ashan's body began healing—slowly, visibly, wrongly.
Prison. He let the thought surface. I'm in prison.
Cold cotton touched wounds. Short shock of pain. Naked body assaulted by cold winds that cut through the cell.
Hands tied by metallic chains. Legs the same. He hung in the air—suspended, helpless, waiting.
"Stay put. Don't shout."
The soldier exited. Dark steel parted. Closed.
Water. He let the thought surface. Throat parched.
Cough.
Darkness grew heavy again. Before closing, something flickered in his eyes. Faint ember glow.
The Vice Admiral's Quarters...
A coin spun between fingers. Not ordinary. A seven-pointed star on one side. Dark spiraling eyes on the other.
So. He let the thought surface. It's them. After all these years dormant... active again. His eyes narrowed. Reports mentioned, but nothing concrete.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
The soldier saluted. "Vice Admiral. The captive is conscious. Resting." A pause. "Your orders?"
If it's them... torture won't yield information. Need an Arohan Mantrik to read his memories.
Kill him? His eyes narrowed. No. Send him to the Rajyam. Interrogation there.
The festival occupies the Rajyam. I have time. He let the thought settle. This is an opportunity. A lead on those scum.
The Vice Admiral smiled.
"Praise the Lord of Light."
"Praise the Lord of Light." The soldier's voice was steady, practiced. "Orders?"
I spoke aloud.
"Keep torturing him. Don't let him die."
"Yes, sir."
"And—" His voice sharpened into a blade. "Prepare my vessel. A small team. We're wiping out the pirates' base. They raided our outpost." A pause. "We can't let them stain land graced by the Lord's believers."
"Yes, sir!"
Promotion soon. He let the thought surface. If I catch one or two important members...
The Vice Admiral chuckled.
The Prison...
Darkness returned.
Cold water splashed. Drove the dark away.
"Wake up, pest!"
Ashan's eyes shot open. Cold water on his face.
Water!
He tried to lick droplets. Desperate. Animal.
"Haha! Look at you!" The soldier's voice was high and bright. "Like a starving dog!"
He slapped Ashan. Laughter. Cruel. Empty.
How many days? He let the thought surface. Weeks? Months? His eyes dimmed. These chains drain my urja. Nothing left.
"You want to drink, yes?"
A cup of water appeared. Then—spilled. Droplets falling. Wasted.
"Start speaking. Name. Where you from." A pause. "Now."
No voice came. Ashan's weak eyes watched with dying hunger and thirst. Body bare. Burn marks still vivid on chest and back.
"No speaking, then."
A burning log. Pressed against his back. Slow. Deliberate.
Pain and heat assaulted at once.
No voice came. Throat too dry for screams. Eyes bloody—only a faint ember glow remaining.
The soldier poured medical liquid. Flesh burned, healed, burned again. Bones melted, knitted, melted. Cycle without end.
No voice came.
Ashan bit his lips. Blood vaporized.
In his mind, one thing remained. His whole being screamed one truth:
LIVE.
Live. Live. Live.
The torture continued. Days without measure.
The soldier ate before him. Drank before him. Wasted everything. Then the log again—flesh, bone, chest, back, legs, arms. Cold liquid poured. Burning. Healing. Burning.
And through it all, the only thing that burned was Ashan's will.
I will live.
The faint embers in his eyes began to deepen.
"Yawn." The soldier stretched, bored. "Hey. Why are you still alive?"
He glanced at Ashan's ruined form.
"Today's the festival night. I'd rather be with my wife."
No response. Burn marks vivid. Permanent.
The soldier clicked his tongue. His face darkened. A smirk crept.
"Then tonight—your face burns."
He brought the burning log close. Sizzling heat waves licked Ashan's worn features. Red hair caught fire at the edges.
"Haha! You'll be bald!"
"Live..."
A murmur. Faint. Barely there.
"What did you say, scum?"
"LIVE."
A faint, cold, monotonous voice echoed:
[Individual Ashan has unlocked Anumapah Siddhi: Ichchha.]
Ashan's eyes opened.
Bright ember glow. Not faint. Not flickering. Blazing.
The soldier stepped back. "What—what is this?"
The burning log fell.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Dark metallic steel cried. Chains tore. Links shattered.
Ashan's body hit the ground. After how long, he did not know. Did not care.
"Stop! Stay STILL!"
The soldier saw only the bright ember glow shining in the dark cage.
Hands gripped his throat.
"Stop—STOP—"
Air thinned. Life drained.
Thuck.
The neck fell. Ashan threw the body aside.
Without a drop of prana, he had killed.
Water. Food.
He moved like a ghost—found what remained, ate, drank. No manners. No dignity. Just need.
After hunger and thirst quieted, his body rested. Searing pain remained. Urja—none.
He wrapped a dark cloth around himself. Hooded. Burned the soldier's body with the log.
Leave. Before the Ascender returns.
He dashed through the prison. No guards. No soldiers.
Festival night. Everyone's celebrating.
A wooden gate. Locked.
BAM.
One kick. It shattered.
When did I have this strength?
The bright ember glow still burned in his eyes.
He did not think. Did not question. Exited.
Dark night welcomed him.
No moon. No stars. But no darkness either. Buildings—the whole island—blazed with light. Soldiers walked with families. Laughter. Conversation. Exquisite fragrance of festival food spreading on cold night breeze.
A scene of peace. Celebration. Life.
Ashan stopped.
His body protested. Would not move.
Move. MOVE.
"Hey! You there!" Two soldiers noticed him. Approached. "Who are you?"
Can I kill them?
The ember eyes blazed brighter. And—something shifted.
He saw their deepest desires. Love. Protection. Loyalty. Ambition. Desperation. Fear. Deep shades of emotion blinded him for a moment.
What's happening?
He shielded his eyes.
"We're talking to you."
"He looks suspicious."
Ah—the pain—
The bright ember glow transformed. Golden ember.
His hands shot open. Right hand glowed deep golden-red. Left hand glowed deep golden-blue.
And then something crawled—no, plucked—from his being like a wisp or thread, and invaded these two persons' bodies... no, their very being.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Something inside him broke.
The red-light hand pointed toward the soldier whose deepest desire was protection. He stopped moving. Then—stood in front of Ashan.
"I will protect you."
The blue-light hand pointed toward the other soldier. His personality shattered—Ashan felt the cracking weight, the shattering of a soul.
The soldier stood motionless. Expression null. A doll.
The pain... He let the thought surface. My soul... carrying the weight of breaking another's...
"Ignite everything. Burn it all!"
Ashan's shout was raw. Desperate. Unknown to himself.
The shattered soldier nodded. Ran off.
"Let me help you." The first soldier lifted him onto his back. "First—your supplies. Then the rooftop."
The Festival Grounds...
"See, Dad? I made a garland!"
"It's beautiful."
"Let's light the oil lamp!"
Families celebrated. Children laughed. Peace.
Then—
BOOM. BOOM.
"KYAA!"
"What happened?"
"The ghee—it must have caught fire!"
"Everyone to safety! NOW!"
BOOM. BOOM.
Inferno consumed everything. Flames spread, buildings caught, people fled.
"Soldiers! Protect the people!"
"We aren't afraid of fire!"
Ashan stood atop a building. Watching the carnage.
The shattering pain is gone. He let the thought surface. That soldier must have died in the blast.
He turned to the soldier carrying him. "You too. Kill them. Protect me when you kill."
Deep red light shone in the soldier's eyes. His body protested. But he nodded. Jumped into the inferno.
The vision. The burning island. The golden-eyed figure.
It was me.
Golden ember blazed in his eyes.
Fate's treachery.
The Ascender isn't here. He took the Order coin. He knows by now.
Cough.
His body jerked. Pain assaulted again.
Later. Think later. He let the thought surface. First—leave.
Under the inferno's smoke, Ashan moved beyond the living quarters.
No ships. The guarded ones—I can't fight in this state.
Waves hit the shore. He entered the water.
His body swayed. Vision dimmed.
No. Not again—
Cold liquid did not touch him. Instead—cold, slippery scales embraced him.
Hiss.
"Human. You're still alive?"
"Ashan."
The voice was rough. Familiar. His.
The tongue flickered. Licked him dry.
"Nishara."
I know.
Consciousness slipped back to darkness.
Volume 2: Kama — Hunger for Power: Complete