After the chaos finally settled, the two of them sat down.
The sofa from earlier had vanished, replaced by a small table and two chairs. They sat across from each other in the endless white space.
"Okay," Hamsa said, leaning forward. "What exactly do you mean by 'I need an anchor'? Also… do you have a name?"
It being blinked.
"Well, not exactly," it admitted. "People have called me things in the past, but I never liked any of them. So why don't you give me one?"
"Me? Name you?" Hamsa grimaced. "Just so you know, I'm terrible at naming things."
"No problem," it replied cheerfully.
"Name… name…" Hamsa muttered, sinking into thought.
This is an ancient serpent we're talking about.
And somehow it has a bubbly personality.
Why is this so hard? I was bad at naming things in my past life too…
Should I just go with something simple like 'Snakey'? …No, that sounds like a pet.
Why does this always happen to me?
Hamsa visibly struggled, brows furrowed in frustration.
Across from him, the being waited… and, out of boredom, began sifting through Hamsa's memories from both lives.
The longer it looked, the more concerned it became.
Ah… he really is bad at this.
It actually started sweating.
"One question," Hamsa said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Is this the first time you've connected with someone? Or were there others before me?"
"As far as I remember," the being replied, "you are the first mortal I will be connected to. In fact… now that I think about it, this might be the first time any of the Seven have formed an actual bond with one."
"I'm the first, huh…" Hamsa murmured, thinking again.
After a long pause, he snapped his fingers.
"How does Adi sound?" he said. "It means beginning. Since this is the first time something like this is happening—and from what you've said, it might define an era."
The being's eyes widened slightly.
"Adi…" he repeated, testing the sound. Then he smiled. "Yes. I like that."
He straightened dramatically.
"From now on, I shall be known as Adi."
"Good," Hamsa said flatly. "Now that the naming ceremony is over, are you going to explain this anchor thing?"
Adi slumped back into his chair.
"Come on," he complained. "I just got a name. Don't you people celebrate these things?"
Hamsa only stared at him, utterly unimpressed.
"Just answer me already," he said, voice firm.
"Fine," Adi exclaimed.
"Basically, a part of my soul will rest inside you. That way you can access my mana directly. And I can stay with you—inside your head."
He waited for a reaction, but Hamsa stayed silent, clearly thinking.
Finally, Hamsa spoke.
"What guarantee do I have that you won't try to take over my body?"
Adi shrugged. "You'll just have to trust me."
Hamsa frowned. "Then why not possess an animal instead? A cat, a dog—something normal. You could follow me around, and I wouldn't have to worry."
"That would probably kill the animal," Adi replied flatly. "I asked for you specifically because no ordinary being could hold the mana that comes with my soul."
Hamsa fell quiet again, weighing the cost of letting something else exist alongside him.
Seeing his hesitation, Adi leaned forward.
"If you're really worried," he said, "we can compromise. I stay inside you, but keep my consciousness anchored in an animal's body."
"That sounds better," Hamsa said. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Before we decide—how smart are you?"
Adi blinked. "I'd say I'm fairly intelligent. Strong memory too. Give me a few weeks or months inside your memories and I can understand everything you know."
Hamsa nodded slowly.
"Then I'll allow you inside me," he said. "But there's a condition. You relinquish control of your mana to me. Your soul gathers it, but it flows directly into me and stays there. You said you wanted entertainment—this is the price."
Adi considered it for a moment.
"…That's actually possible for me," he admitted. "Unlike normal creatures. Fine. It's a deal. You get my full cooperation."
Then he pointed a finger at Hamsa.
"But it'll take a few months for your body to adjust to my mana mixing with yours. Until then, your mana usage will be unstable."
Hamsa accepted that with a small nod.
"Well," Adi continued, stretching lazily, "your body still needs at least a day to recover before we can begin. So… tell me about your life here."
Hamsa blinked. "Why? You already have—or will have—access to my memories."
Adi smiled.
"It's more interesting hearing someone tell their own story. Memories show events. They don't show thoughts."
Hamsa sighed, mildly irritated, but gave in.
The table vanished, replaced once again by comfortable sofas. They settled in.
"Where do I even start…" Hamsa muttered.
He stared into the empty white distance.
"When I first opened my eyes here, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It took months to accept that I was dead… that this was my new existence…"
He continued speaking, his voice steady at first.
Then Adi interrupted.
"What do you miss most about your old world?"
Hamsa paused.
"…Entertainment," he said finally. "You don't realize how hard it is to live without media until it's gone. For years I'd wake up and try to order things that didn't exist here… my schedule, devices… all of it."
He hesitated.
"Other than that… I don't really miss anything."
His voice dropped at the end.
Adi watched him quietly.
"Do you want to see what your friends are doing now?" he asked.
Hamsa stiffened, unsure what he felt.
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't," he said quietly. "But I don't know if I actually want to."
He stared ahead, expression unreadable.
"I like to think I had good relationships with them. They were good people… even if they could be complete idiots sometimes."
A faint smile came and went.
"The problem is me. I've always been too hands-on with people. I never really shared anything about myself either—not even the normal amount. I've heard enough comments, both behind my back and to my face, to know exactly how people saw me."
He let out a slow breath.
"I tried to change. And I did, in some ways. But instead of becoming better, I just got harsher. I started using people closest to me as an outlet."
He fell silent after that.
Adi watched him for a moment before speaking.
"From what I've seen in your memories, you'll be fine," he said.
Silence settled again between them. The white space felt almost heavy.
After a while, Adi spoke once more.
"Look, kid," he said, his tone quieter now. "I won't pretend I understand how you feel. And I'm not going to say something grand or wise just for the sake of it."
He leaned back, eyes drifting upward into the blank expanse above, while Hamsa watched him.
"I've lived a very, very long time. Most of it alone. I don't feel the same need to socialize the way you—or most living creatures—do. Honestly, I'm not even sure I experience emotions the same way you do."
He paused.
"But I will tell you this."
His voice grew firmer.
"Forget that old world of yours. You aren't Raj Sharma anymore. You are Hamsadeva Verman now. Treat those memories as if they belong to someone else."
He let the words hang for a moment.
"If you keep clinging to that life, you'll repeat the same patterns here. And trying too hard to avoid the same outcome might only drag you toward something worse."
Adi lowered his gaze and turned toward him.
Now they were facing each other directly.
"You realize it, don't you?" Adi said softly. "Even in this life, you hold yourself back from doing what you want."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Because you're afraid of how the people around you will react."
"Well… I can't just suddenly stop behaving the way I do," Hamsa said, words coming quickly. "I can't wake up one day and start acting energetic—calling Garuda to hang out or asking people to spend time with me. I was always the one being called before."
He laughed weakly, but there was no humor in it.
"I haven't even managed to make a single real friend. Not here. Not even in my past life. Arjun was the only one I connected with on my own. Everyone else… they got to know me through him."
His voice grew tighter.
"I can't go to my parents and just tell them what I want. I couldn't do that before either. And in this life…" He hesitated. "I'm not even sure I should stand in front of them."
His hands tightened into fists.
"For all I know, I killed the real Hamsa and took his place."
The words came out uneven, rushed.
"Maybe I'm better for the kingdom, maybe I'm not—but without knowing what would've happened, I can't say I'm better than the person who was supposed to be here."
His breathing quickened. He looked away, blinking hard as he tried to hold back the tears.
"I'm not even sure I should be here," Hamsa said quietly.
His voice had lost its earlier edge, worn down into something smaller.
"Even now… it's the same as my past life." He swallowed hard. "Sometimes I feel like I could just disappear, and most people wouldn't even notice."
The words hung in the space between them.
He let out a shaky breath, staring at nothing.
"Like I'm just… filling a role. And if I vanished, someone else would step in and everything would keep moving like I was never there."
Silence followed.
Neither of them spoke. Neither seemed to know what could be said.
Adi watched him quietly, thoughts drifting.
Why are mortals so anxious?
Across his long existence, whenever he hadn't been sleeping or occupying himself with something else, he had watched them.
They were always anxious.
Anxious about being remembered.
Anxious about how others see them.
Anxious about whether their future would turn out well.
Anxious about finding someone to love.
Anxious about their roles, their duties, their place in the world.
Always reaching for something just beyond their grasp—worrying endlessly over whether they would ever attain it.
To beings like him, it was strange.
He had no real concept of time. No need to rush. No fear of endings.
And no desire for anything he did not already have or could obtain.
There was nothing for him to be anxious about.
After that, they sat in silence for the remainder of their time together.
One day passed. Then another.
Eventually, it was time to leave.
Hamsa found himself standing once more inside the cave, the air cool and damp around him. In front of him loomed Adi's true form—the colossal serpent, its massive body coiled and still.
"So," Adi said, his voice calm. "Shall we begin?"
Hamsa took a slow breath.
"…Yeah. Let's do this."
Mana began gathering around him, flowing outward from Adi's body. The air trembled as the energy thickened, luminous threads spiraling together until a blinding light formed between them.
It pulsed with raw power.
For a moment it hovered—alive, watching.
Then it moved.
The light surged forward and plunged into Hamsa's body.
Pain exploded through him.
A crushing pressure wrapped around his bones and organs, as if something immense was forcing itself into every part of him at once. His legs gave out, and he collapsed—only to be caught by Adi's now lifeless serpent body as it slumped forward.
He gasped, fighting through the weight pressing down on him.
Seconds stretched painfully long.
At last, the pressure eased.
Hamsa forced himself upright, breathing hard. The cave felt different now—heavier, louder, filled with currents he could suddenly sense pressing against his skin.
He glanced once at the unmoving serpent.
Then, without a word, he turned and began walking.
Mana flowed into his eyes, guiding him through the darkness as he navigated the tunnels, following the faint currents of energy back toward the cave's exit.
__________________
Outside the cave.
The three woke early, finished breakfast, and settled into quiet conversation beside the fading fire.
Then it happened.
A chilling presence rolled out from the cave.
In an instant, all three moved. The two guards stepped forward, taking defensive positions, while the third shifted toward higher ground for a clearer vantage point.
"Stay alert," Naga said sharply. "If something is coming out even with the presence we've been emitting, it must be dangerous."
Silence followed.
Only their heartbeats, the rustle of distant flora and fauna, and the slow, steady sound of footsteps approaching from within the cave.
Closer and closer.
A figure finally emerged.
Rajkumar Hamsa.
The moment he stepped fully into the open, the pressure intensified. His presence swelled outward like a wave, thick and suffocating. The three felt their stomachs churn, instinct screaming at them to retreat.
None of them moved.
They simply waited—unsure whether to expect words… or an attack.
Hamsa stopped.
"Why are you all so tense?" he asked. "Relax. It's just me."
The words eased them slightly, but the discomfort remained.
"Rajkumar Hamsa," Mina said carefully, forcing herself to speak through the pressure. "Your mana… please bring it under control."
She swallowed.
"At this level, you could kill an entire town just by walking near it."
Hamsa blinked, realization dawning. He took a breath and focused, pulling the wild currents inward.
"Is this better?" he asked. "I can't control it very well yet."
The pressure lessened.
Then Gopala let out a nervous laugh. "Well… now you just look intimidating instead of terrifying."
Naga nodded once. "If that's settled, we should move. With the Rajkumar back and in this state, we still have over a month of travel to the capital."
Hamsa frowned slightly. "Am I really that bad right now?"
"Yes," all three answered in unison.
A brief silence followed… then they began preparing to leave.
Moments later, they mounted their horses and set off once again.
This time, as they crossed the edge of the Mana Dead Zone, nothing followed them or came into site like when they entered.