(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...

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The clearing had fallen silent except for screams.

The two men who had lost their hands were writhing on the ground, clutching their bleeding stumps and groaning in agony.

The third man was in far worse condition.

Pinned to the ground by Amba Tejas.

His flesh continued to smoke from the divine heat radiating through the blade.

The smell of burnt skin filled the air.

Every attempt to move only made the pain worse.

Yet the sword seemed determined to punish him further for attempting to flee.

Devara slowly walked toward him.

Each step felt heavy.

Not because of his weight.

But because of the pressure he carried.

The wounded man heard the footsteps approaching and immediately started struggling harder.

His eyes widened with terror.

The figure that stopped beside him looked less like a human and more like a divine executioner.

Golden armor covered his body.

The remaining crimson sword glowed in his hand.

And those green eyes...

They were completely calm.

Far too calm.

Devara crouched beside him.

Then grabbed a handful of the man’s hair.

The wounded man immediately screamed.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

Without any effort, Devara pulled his head upward.

The movement stretched the injured leg even further.

Fresh agony shot through the man’s body.

Tears streamed from his eyes.

His entire face had become pale.

"...."

Then Devara spoke.

His voice was cold.

Not angry. Not shouting.

Just cold.

"Who are you?"

The man clenched his teeth.

Devara’s grip tightened.

"What are you doing here?"

The wounded man trembled.

His entire body shook from pain.

The veins along his neck bulged visibly.

His breathing became erratic.

Yet despite everything... He laughed. A weak laugh.

A desperate laugh.

The kind of laugh people made when they had nothing left.

"Heh..."

Blood dripped from his lips.

Devara remained expressionless.

The man shook his head.

"No."

His voice cracked.

"No... Even if you kill me."

He wasn’t going to answer.

Not yet.

Devara looked at him for several seconds.

"...."

Then slowly pulled his hair harder.

The man’s scream echoed through the forest.

Nearby, the two wounded men looked away.

Even they couldn’t bear watching it.

At that moment, a familiar irritated voice echoed inside Devara’s mind.

"Devara."

It was Amba Tejas.

The divine sword sounded deeply annoyed.

"Why are we questioning him?"

Devara already knew where this was going.

"Because we need information."

The sword immediately protested.

"We could simply burn him."

Devara sighed internally.

"Amba..."

"No, listen."

The sword continued to explain its crazy idea.

"We burn him."

"Then we burn the other two."

"Then we burn whatever remains."

"I am certain somebody will reveal the truth eventually."

The divine weapon sounded disturbingly enthusiastic.

Meanwhile, the wounded man obviously couldn’t hear the conversation.

Which was fortunate.

Because hearing a sword casually discuss burning him alive would probably have broken whatever courage he had left.

Devara ignored Amba’s suggestion.

"...."

For now.

The king looked down at the prisoner.

Then suddenly grabbed the man’s arm.

The prisoner froze feeling something is wrong.

Fear filled his eyes.

"Wait..."

CRACK!

The sound echoed through the clearing.

The man’s arm bent unnaturally.

For a moment there was silence.

Then came the scream. A horrifying scream.

The kind that emptied the lungs.

The kind that made birds flee from nearby trees.

The man thrashed violently.

His body convulsed.

Tears streamed down his face.

He could barely breathe.

Meanwhile, Devara’s expression didn’t change.

He waited.

The screams slowly weakened.

The prisoner gasped desperately for air.

Then Devara asked again.

"Who are you?"

The man shook.

"What is this ritual?"

Another pause.

The prisoner’s resistance finally began breaking.

He looked at the golden armor.

At the glowing sword.

At the calm eyes staring down at him.

And suddenly he realized something.

He wasn’t leaving this forest.

Not unless he talked.

The courage drained from his face.

"I’ll tell you..."

His voice trembled.

"I’ll tell you everything."

The two wounded men immediately looked toward him.

One tried to protest.

"Don’t—"

Devara’s gaze shifted towards the direction.

"...."

The man immediately shut his mouth.

The prisoner swallowed hard.

Then finally spoke.

"We serve..."

He paused.

Fear appearing in his eyes.

Not fear of Devara.

Fear of something else.

Something far away.

"Pushpasura."

The name hung in the air.

Devara remained silent.

The prisoner continued.

"We are followers of the Awakening Path."

"The ones chosen to prepare for our lord’s return."

The king listened carefully.

Every word mattered now.

The man pointed weakly toward the ritual circle.

"The ritual..."

His voice shook.

"It is not meant to awaken him directly."

"It cannot."

The prisoner coughed blood.

"Pushpasura is only partially conscious right now."

"Like someone sleeping but beginning to hear voices around him."

Devara’s eyes narrowed.

That was useful information.

The man continued.

"This ritual was meant to summon one of his legions."

The king frowned slightly.

"Legions?"

The prisoner nodded.

The fear in his eyes grew.

"As his consciousness returns..."

"So do the creatures bound to him."

"The first servants."

"The first warriors."

"The first monsters."

His voice became weaker.

"The ritual uses the skull as a beacon."

"It calls them."

"It guides them."

"It allows them to cross into this realm."

The clearing suddenly felt colder.

Even the forest seemed quieter.

The prisoner swallowed.

"Our task was to summon them."

"Then use them to prepare the way."

"For the great awakening."

"For the liberation of Pushpasura."

The man laughed weakly.

Though now there was no confidence in the sound.

Only despair.

"Our masters said once enough flowers die..."

"Once enough chaos spreads..."

"The prison weakening around him will finally break."

Devara’s face remained unreadable.

But inwardly, he was already calculating.

If what the man said was true...

The situation was worse than expected.

Pushpasura wasn’t simply waiting to awaken.

He was already beginning to influence the world.

And his followers were trying to speed up the process.

The king slowly released the prisoner’s hair.

The wounded man collapsed back onto the ground.

Panting heavily.

Meanwhile, Amba Tejas immediately spoke again inside his mind.

"Excellent."

"Now may I burn him?"

Devara rubbed his forehead.

Some problems, it seemed, were universal.

Devara listened to the confession in silence.

"...."

The cultist’s words confirmed everything he needed to know.

These men were indeed followers of Pushpasura, and the ritual before him was not some meaningless act performed by fanatics. It had a purpose. A dangerous purpose.

For a few moments, his eyes remained on the strange ritual circle carved into the ground.

The crimson symbols continued glowing faintly.

Like veins carrying blood through a living body.

The strange skull sat at the center of it all.

Even now, after everything that had happened, it radiated an unsettling feeling.

The surrounding flowers seemed weaker around it.

The grass appeared darker.

Even the air felt heavier.

Devara slowly stood up.

The cultist lying on the ground noticed where his gaze had gone.

Immediately, nervousness appeared on his face.

The man who had been speaking suddenly looked afraid.

Not afraid for himself.

Afraid for the ritual.

Afraid for whatever they had been trying to summon.

That reaction alone made Devara’s eyes narrow.

Without saying anything, he started walking toward the ritual.

The two wounded cultists immediately became restless.

One of them struggled to rise despite losing his hand.

"Wait..."

His voice came out weak.

Devara ignored him.

The second cultist suddenly shouted.

"Don’t touch it!"

That made Devara pause for half a second.

Then a small smile appeared on his face.

If they were this desperate to stop him, then he was definitely about to do the right thing.

The king walked directly into the center of the ritual circle.

The crimson symbols pulsed beneath his feet.

The strange skull seemed almost alive as he looked down at it.

For a brief moment, he considered destroying it with Amba Tejas.

Then decided against it.

Instead, he simply drew back his leg and kicked it.

Hard.

The skull flew through the air.

The instant it left the center of the formation, the effect was immediate.

The crimson light vanished.

The symbols lost their glow.

The energy that had been flowing through the ritual circle disappeared.

Like a lamp suddenly running out of oil.

The entire formation became dull and lifeless.

The two cultists stared at the sight.

"...."

"...."

One of them looked devastated.

The other looked completely stunned.

For a brief moment, Devara thought that was the end of it.

Then the skull struck the ground.

And everything went wrong.

The moment it landed, the skull exploded.

Not physically.

It simply burst apart into a massive sphere of crimson energy.

The sudden surge of power shook the clearing.

Flower petals flew everywhere.

Dust rose from the ground.

Several nearby trees trembled.

The explosion wasn’t destructive.

It was worse. It felt alive.

The crimson energy didn’t disperse.

Instead, it gathered together.

Growing larger. Condensing.

Twisting around itself.

The air became colder.

Much colder.

The flowers closest to the sphere suddenly wilted.

Their petals darkened.

Leaves curled inward.

Even the roots beneath the ground seemed affected.

For the first time since arriving here, Devara’s expression became serious.

Behind him, the wounded cultists suddenly started laughing.

The sound was almost disturbing.

They weren’t laughing because they were happy.

They were laughing because their faith had been rewarded.

One of them actually started crying.

Tears streamed down his face.

Yet he continued laughing.

"We did it..."

The man whispered.

"We actually did it..."

The second cultist looked toward the crimson sphere with fanatic devotion.

"Our lord answered..."

The sphere continued growing.

Then shapes appeared inside it.

At first they looked like shadows.

Then skeletons.

Nearly thirty of them.

Their outlines slowly becoming clearer.

Devara’s eyes narrowed.

"...."

These weren’t human skeletons.

Not even close.

The shape of the skulls was wrong.

The limbs were longer.

The joints appeared different.

Their entire structure looked foreign.

Like creatures belonging to another race.

Then flesh began growing over the bones.

The process was horrifying to watch.

Nerves spread across skeletons like red vines.

Muscles wrapped around limbs.

Veins formed.

Organs appeared.

Eyeballs grew inside empty sockets.

Skin slowly covered everything.

The transformation wasn’t quick.

It happened slowly enough that every detail could be seen.

One creature opened its eyes while half its face was still exposed muscle.

Another flexed newly formed fingers as skin crawled across its arms.

The entire process felt unnatural.

Like watching creation itself being twisted into something wrong.

The crimson sphere finally shattered.

And the creatures dropped onto the ground.

One after another.

-THUDS!!!...

Nearly thirty figures landed within the clearing.

The impact sent dust rising around them.

For several moments, none of them moved.

Then Devara noticed the details.

Green roots covered their bodies.

Not just outside.

Inside.

The roots seemed fused with flesh itself.

They emerged from beneath the skin.

Wrapped around muscles.

Moved through veins.

Some protruded from their necks.

Others from their shoulders.

One creature even had roots growing across half its face.

It looked as though plant life and flesh had merged together into a single existence.

Their eyes opened.

Every single one possessed crimson pupils.

The same crimson color as the ritual.

The same crimson color as the energy sphere.

The same crimson color associated with Pushpasura one if they saw Pushpasura.

The forest became silent.

Completely silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Not a single bird sang.

Not a single insect made a sound.

Even the wind seemed to stop moving.

The atmosphere felt oppressive.

Heavy.

Like something that shouldn’t enter the world had entered the world.

Devara could feel it immediately.

These creatures weren’t ordinary summons.

They carried traces of Pushpasura’s power.

Fragments of his influence.

Fragments that had no business existing in the mortal realm.

Behind him, the cultist pinned beneath Amba Tejas looked toward the creatures.

His eyes widened.

Then he began laughing.

Even while screaming in pain.

Even while his leg was pinned to the ground.

He laughed.

Because to him, this was victory.

"The Legion..."

His voice shook.

"The Legion has come..."

The two wounded cultists looked just as happy.

Their faces were pale from blood loss.

Yet they smiled like men who had been blessed by the heavens.

One of them looked toward Devara.

"Kill us if you want."

He laughed weakly.

"It doesn’t matter anymore."

"Our purpose is complete."

"Our lord’s servants have arrived."

Devara didn’t even bother responding.

His attention remained fixed on the creatures.

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(Author note:)

I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.

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