A new world

It had been an hour since Pralaya and Arun boarded the train heading toward the Commercial District. Pralaya, as if he hadn't slept for days, immediately dozed off on Arun's shoulder. Whether it was from sheer exhaustion after pushing himself to his physical limits or the overwhelming mental strain, he was completely drained. Arun, on the other hand, looked composed, but he wasn't faring much better. With one of his swords gone, he was barely holding back Astaroth's power.

"Once we get to the city, I need to find the old man and get Pralaya some new clothes," Arun thought.

As time passed, Arun nudged Pralaya awake. "Hey, kid. Wake up—we're finally here."

Pralaya's eyes fluttered open just as the train emerged from the underground tunnel, and a blinding light flooded the cabin. Still groggy, he squinted at the sudden brightness, struggling to take in his surroundings.

"Welcome to District 2—also known as the Commercial District," Arun announced.

Now fully awake, Pralaya turned toward the window, his breath hitching as he absorbed the sight before him. The city was nothing like the slums he had known all his life—it was beyond anything he could have imagined. Towering skyscrapers stretched toward the heavens, their glass facades reflecting the golden rays of the sun. Neon signs flickered in vibrant colors, illuminating the streets below, where sleek cars and bustling crowds moved in perfect harmony. The air buzzed with life, an energy so foreign yet mesmerizing to Pralaya.

"This place… it's more beautiful than I ever imagined," he muttered under his breath, awestruck.

Arun smirked, glancing at the boy. "Heh, try not to look too amazed. You'll stand out."

After five minutes, the train came to a smooth stop at the station. As they stepped off, Arun suddenly pulled Pralaya to the side, leading him to a secluded corner.

"Wait here," Arun instructed.

Pralaya frowned. "What's wrong?"

Arun folded his arms. "You need new clothes. If you walk into the city looking like that, people will look at you with disgust and disdain."

For the first time, Pralaya glanced down at himself, truly noticing the state of his attire. His clothes were tattered, stained with dirt and dried blood—remnants of the life he had left behind. In the slums, everyone was equally miserable; no one had the luxury to judge another. But here… things were different.

Reluctantly, he nodded.

Arun smirked. "Good. Stay put. I'll be back soon."

With that, he disappeared into the sea of people, leaving Pralaya alone amidst the overwhelming new world.

After a while, Arun returned, handing Pralaya a bag filled with clothes.

"Go change quickly—we have a long day ahead," he said.

Pralaya took the bag and found a secluded spot at the station. Five minutes later, he returned, now dressed in a sleek black shirt, dark jeans, and crisp white sneakers. The fabric felt strange against his skin—smooth, clean, and completely foreign.

Arun raised an eyebrow. "Why do you look so uncomfortable?"

Pralaya hesitated before muttering, "I've never worn anything this… clean before."

Arun chuckled. "Get over yourself, kid. You better get used to it."

Pralaya couldn't help but smile.

"Let's go," Arun said, leading the way.

The moment they stepped out of the station, Pralaya was once again struck by the sheer magnificence of the city. The roads stretched endlessly, lined with gleaming towers and bustling markets. The air was filled with a medley of scents—freshly baked bread, sizzling street food, and the unmistakable aroma of expensive perfume. People moved with purpose, their conversations a blend of different languages and dialects.

Pralaya found himself trailing behind, still trying to absorb everything.

"Hey, kid."

Arun's voice snapped him back to reality. He turned to see Arun pointing toward the north.

"Do you see that mountain?"

Pralaya followed his gaze. A colossal mountain loomed in the distance, its peak obscured by clouds. Even from here, the sight of it sent a strange shiver down his spine.

"That," Arun continued, "is the Temple of Thanatos—the God of Many Faces."

There was an unusual weight in Arun's voice, a seriousness that made Pralaya uneasy.

"Until I say otherwise, stay away from that mountain. And stay away from any Śūnyavāda from the temple," Arun warned.

Pralaya swallowed hard. The way Arun spoke… it wasn't a mere suggestion. It was a command.

"…Alright," he replied.

Arun nodded, satisfied, and they continued walking.

After navigating through the vibrant city streets, they arrived at a small, inconspicuous shop nestled between towering buildings. It looked so ordinary—almost as if it was trying to go unnoticed.

"We're here," Arun said.

Pralaya frowned. "Where is 'here,' exactly?"

Arun didn't answer. He simply pushed open the door and walked in. Confused but curious, Pralaya followed.

Inside, the shop was dimly lit, filled with shelves stacked with strange trinkets and artifacts. Dust coated the air, giving the place an ancient feel. There were no customers—only silence.

Then, from the back room, an old man emerged.

Arun smirked. "Been a while, old man. How's life treating you?"

The old man's eyes gleamed with recognition. "You arrogant brat," he said with a chuckle before stepping forward and embracing Arun.

Pralaya observed them silently. So, they know each other…

"What brings you here?" the old man asked.

Arun grinned. "I came to Gaia on a whim… but I'm leaving with a successor." He gestured toward Pralaya with a smug look.

Pralaya couldn't hear their hushed conversation, but he could tell they were talking about him. The old man's expression shifted—his smile fading into something unreadable.

"Arun," he said, his voice low and serious. "You know the implications of what you just said."

Arun's expression darkened. "I know, old man."

The old man continued "The other kings and the members of the Seven Scriptures… they won't be happy. You know it's forbidden to appoint a successor outside of the Seven Scriptures."

Arun smirked. "Don't worry. that's why I'm taking him there right now."

The old man—Darren—sighed, rubbing his temples. Then, he turned to Pralaya, his gaze scrutinizing.

"…Do you really think this boy will survive the test?"

Arun's confidence never wavered. "I don't just think it—I know it."

Darren closed his eyes briefly, then let out a sigh. "Your arrogance is truly astounding."

Then, in an instant, Darren released his karmic energy.

Pralaya's heart clenched. A crushing force bore down on him, suffocating, overwhelming. His instincts screamed as he instinctively enveloped himself in his own energy to protect himself—but it only alleviated some of the pressure.

Darren was far stronger than Pralaya had anticipated.

Just as Pralaya felt his body reaching its limit, Arun finally spoke.

"That's enough, old man. I'm sure the kid has impressed you already."

Darren smirked. "Maybe there's hope for him after all."

He withdrew his energy, and Pralaya collapsed, gasping for breath.

Still panting, he turned to Arun. "Are we… going somewhere else?"

Arun nodded. "Yeah. We're heading to the Seven Scriptures' base."

Pralaya frowned. "And where is that?"

Arun smirked. "A place you'd never expect."

Darren turned toward the back room. "Follow me."

They moved toward a blank wall.

Pralaya narrowed his eyes. "There's nothing here."

Arun placed his hand on the wall and released his karmic energy. The surface cracked, then shattered, revealing a swirling vortex of space beyond.

"This," Arun said, stepping forward, "is the way to the Seven Scriptures' base."

Without hesitation, he stepped inside and vanished.

Pralaya hesitated for a moment before glancing at Darren.

"Go, kid," Darren said. "And be careful."

Taking a deep breath, Pralaya turned back to the portal—and stepped in.