The Mask’s Will

Pralaya didn't know why, but something inside him told him to go to the place where the battle had taken place. His heart pounded as he grabbed his things and rushed out of the house, ignoring his father's desperate shouts to return. His feet carried him forward as if he were being pulled by an unseen force.

When he arrived, the battlefield was eerily silent. The lingering energy from the fight still hung in the air like static, causing his skin to prickle. But there was something else—something deeper. It was as if he could feel everything in the area. His senses expanded beyond anything he had ever experienced, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly alive.

He remembered how the Śūnyayoma had acted strangely before the Śūnyavāda appeared, almost as if it were searching for something. But now, there was no trace of anything significant left behind.

For two hours, Pralaya searched, overturning debris and scanning every inch of the ruined street. Nothing.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

Just as he turned to leave, his foot nudged something. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

Lying there on the ground was a black, demonic-looking mask.

Pralaya froze. This wasn't here before… I'm sure of it.

He crouched down and hesitantly picked it up. The mask felt heavier than it should, its surface smooth yet unnervingly warm, as though it were alive. A strange sensation crept through his fingers, a whisper of something… wrong.

Then, a voice from behind shattered the silence.

"Drop the mask, kid."

Pralaya spun around. A man dressed entirely in black stood a few feet away, his face shadowed by his hood. Three swords were strapped to his waist, their hilts adorned with strange symbols. His stance was relaxed, but there was an undeniable air of danger surrounding him.

"You look like a civilian," the man said, his tone calm but edged with warning. "That thing isn't meant for you. Just put it down, and I'll let you walk away."

Pralaya's grip on the mask tightened. His instincts screamed at him to listen, but his body refused to let go.

The man sighed, reaching for one of his swords. "Guess that's a no."

In an instant, he vanished.

A second later, a blast of pure karmic energy struck Pralaya in the chest.

The world blurred as he was sent flying, crashing into a wall with a bone-jarring impact. Pain exploded through his body, and his vision swam. He struggled to stay conscious, but his limbs refused to move.

Through the haze, he saw the man approaching.

"Nothing personal, kid," the man muttered. "You just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Darkness crept at the edges of Pralaya's vision. Then, for a brief moment, his eyes shut—

And a vision overtook him.

---

He saw fire.

A storm of flames consumed everything around him, turning the land into a wasteland of smoldering ash. Countless bodies lay scattered across the battlefield, their lifeless forms frozen in agony.

Above it all, a figure floated in the sky, wreathed in shadows and light.

The figure slowly turned—staring directly at him.

Pralaya's breath hitched.

It knew he was watching.

---

Back in reality, the masked man crouched down, reaching for the mask still clutched in Pralaya's hands.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pry it free. Even unconscious, Pralaya's grip was unnaturally strong.

Suddenly, a pulse of karmic energy erupted from his body.

The masked man instinctively leaped back, his muscles tensing.

The air around Pralaya shimmered. A strange black mist seeped from the mask, swirling around him like living smoke. The temperature dropped.

Then, the mask disappeared.

A chilling silence filled the air.

Pralaya's body twitched.

Then, he stood up.

But it wasn't him.

His movements were too smooth, too precise—like a puppet being controlled by unseen strings.

The mask materialized onto his face, fusing with his skin. His eyes glowed with an eerie, unnatural light.

The masked man narrowed his eyes. Damn it.

Gripping one of his swords, he took a stance. "Tch… so you were chosen by it?"

Without warning, he vanished again—reappearing in front of Pralaya in an instant.

Akash Step—Void Stride.

His blade came down in a perfect arc, aiming to take Pralaya's head clean off.

But Pralaya—or whatever was controlling him—moved.

Effortlessly.

Dodging the strike with inhuman fluidity, he countered with a burst of pure black energy. The masked man barely managed to twist his body away, but the shockwave sent him skidding backward.

The ground beneath them cracked from the force.

"Alright then," the masked man muttered, flipping his sword. "Let's see if you can handle this."

He placed his hands together in a mudra.

Karmic Blade Art—Threefold Samsara Cut.

A golden aura surrounded his sword as he swung. Three slashes of compressed energy shot toward Pralaya at impossible speed.

Pralaya reacted instantly.

Raising his hand, he conjured a swirling black sphere.

Void Dharma—Devouring Samsara.

The golden slashes vanished the moment they touched the sphere, swallowed whole by the abyss.

The masked man's eyes widened.

But he didn't stop.

Using Akash Step again, he closed the distance, his blade flashing in a series of rapid, precise strikes. Pralaya dodged with unnatural ease, his body twisting in impossible ways.

Then, he retaliated.

Cycle of Yama—Thousand Shadow Fangs.

Dozens of dark tendrils erupted from his back, each tipped with a fanged maw, lunging at the masked man.

With a roar, the man spun, unleashing a torrent of karmic energy.

Dharmic Shield—Eightfold Lotus Ward!

A radiant lotus bloomed around him, intercepting the tendrils in a blinding explosion.

The battle raged, neither side yielding. The very air trembled under the sheer force of their clash.

Then—

The masked man made a mistake.

A split-second miscalculation.

And it cost him.

Pralaya's possessed form conjured another sphere of black energy.

Karmic Nihility—Endless Samsara.

The moment even a single fragment of this technique touched the man, he would cease to exist.

The masked man's eyes widened in realization. I can't dodge this!

The sphere launched toward him—

But just before it could connect, something changed.

Pralaya fought back.

---

Inside his own mind, he found himself in a black void, watching the battle unfold.

But he wasn't alone.

A massive serpent coiled in the darkness, its crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Forget your body, child. It belongs to me now."

Pralaya clenched his fists. "Who the hell are you?"

The serpent chuckled.

"I am the shadow that clings to fate. I am the whisper in the void. I am the Masked One… and now, I am you."

Pralaya gritted his teeth. "Like hell you are!"

The serpent lunged—

But before it could strike, something else stirred.

A suffocating presence filled the void.

It wasn't Pralaya.

Yet, it was.

The serpent recoiled.

A single, unseen force stared at it—without a word, without a sound.

And the serpent knew.

It was being commanded. To leave

Back in the real world—

A dark mist erupted from the mask, forming the serpent's shape.

Pralaya gasped as he finally regained control of his body.

The mask still on his face.