The Serpent’s Wrath

Pralaya staggered, his body still adjusting after breaking free from the serpent's control. His mind swirled with questions, but one stood out the most—

"Why did the serpent let go of me right before attacking?"

It made no sense.

But before he could dwell on it, the man standing before him spoke.

"Interesting. You actually managed to overcome the curse."

Pralaya narrowed his eyes. He hadn't forgotten that this man had tried to kill him just minutes ago. "Curse? What are you talking about?"

The man smirked. "I suppose you wouldn't know. That mask on your face is the legendary 'Curse Mask of Kali.' And that serpent—" he gestured to the coiling, shadowy beast reforming in the distance "—is Kali's spirit."

Pralaya clenched his fists. "And what does that mean for me?"

The man folded his arms. "Anyone who wears the mask becomes a prisoner to it. The curse makes it impossible to remove. But since you broke free from its control, you now own it. You can summon and dismiss the mask at will—without even touching it."

Pralaya hesitated. "That doesn't sound so bad."

He focused, and the mask vanished from his face. Another thought—and it reappeared instantly.

His lips curled slightly. "That's… kind of cool."

The man snorted. "Don't get cocky, kid."

Before Pralaya could respond, a terrifying hiss filled the air.

The serpent had fully reformed.

Its massive body, black as the void, coiled and stretched toward the heavens. Its golden eyes gleamed with pure malice, and a sickly mist radiated from its form, warping the space around it.

The serpent spoke. "You may have broken free, vessel. But you are not beyond my grasp."

Pralaya instinctively took a step back, his breathing heavy. His body remembered the pain of its control.

The man, however, cracked his neck and placed a hand on his sword.

"Stay out of this, kid. I'll handle it."

Pralaya blinked. "Wait—you're fighting that thing alone?"

The man smirked. "It's not even worth going all out."

The serpent lunged.The air shattered as the serpent's massive body struck down like a tidal wave. The sheer force of its movement sent violent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield.

But the man didn't move.

At the last second, he took a single step forward—and vanished.

The serpent's attack obliterated the ground where he once stood, sending rock and dust flying into the air. But before the debris could settle—

A flash of silver light streaked through the chaos.

A deep, gashing wound suddenly appeared along the serpent's massive body, spraying black mist into the air.

From above, the man descended—his sword gleaming with an ethereal glow.

He struck again. Faster than Pralaya could follow.

Each strike was precise, merciless, and devastating. Blades of pure energy cut through the serpent's form like paper, forcing it into a frenzied retreat.

The serpent screeched in fury, its body shifting wildly to dodge the incoming attacks. But the man was relentless.

In the span of three seconds, he had slashed the beast over a hundred times.

Pralaya stood frozen, his eyes struggling to keep up.

"He was holding back this much before?!"

The serpent retaliated, releasing a wave of black fire from its gaping maw. The cursed flames distorted reality itself, consuming everything in their path.

Pralaya's instincts screamed for him to run.

But the man remained still.

Then—he sheathed his sword.

Pralaya's eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing?! It's attacking!"

The man didn't respond. Instead, he slowly exhaled.

Then—

"Karma Severance: Sixth Form—Cleansing Blade."

He vanished.

A moment later—

The entire world turned white.

A single, blinding slash cut through everything.

The cursed flames split apart. The black fire dissipated instantly, as if erased from existence. And at the center of it all—

The serpent's body split into two.

A heavy silence followed.

Then—

The two halves of the serpent's form collapsed.

Pralaya watched in stunned silence as the once-mighty beast writhed and disintegrated into dust, its essence fading into nothingness.

The battle was over.

Aftermath

The man flicked his blade, sending the last traces of black mist scattering into the wind before sheathing it once more.

Pralaya finally found his voice. "You… You completely destroyed it. That was insane."

The man shrugged. "Told you it wasn't worth going all out."

Pralaya swallowed. The sheer gap between them was overwhelming.

"Who… are you?"

The man turned slightly, his expression unreadable.

"Names are irrelevant. But if you must call me something…"

He glanced at Pralaya, a smirk playing at his lips.

"You can call me the 'Sword of Dharma.'"

Pralaya's hands clenched.

This was the moment he realized something.

He was weak.

Pathetically weak.

If he wanted answers—if he wanted to control the mask's power—he would need strength.

And right now, standing before him, was the strongest person he had ever seen.

Pralaya made a decision.

"Teach me."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Teach you?"

Pralaya nodded, his voice unwavering. "Teach me how to fight."

The man studied him for a moment. Then, to Pralaya's surprise—

He laughed. "You? A fighter? You're barely standing."

Pralaya gritted his teeth. "Then make me strong enough to stand."

The man's smirk faded. His eyes sharpened, as if weighing the request. Then—

He turned away.

"We'll see."

And with that, he started walking, leaving Pralaya with nothing but the remains of the battle and the weight of his newfound determination.