Chapter 133: Chapter 131: Look Is Enough... To Destroy...

(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 moment the blood-soaked effigies rose to their feet, the fear inside the clearing slowly began changing into excitement.

The practitioners looked at one another.

The ritual had answered.

Something had come. Something powerful.

The crimson lights burning within the eyes of the pishacha effigies flickered like embers in the darkness.

The eldest practitioner of the Krityagarha Clan slowly stepped forward.

Though his heart was uneasy, years of experience allowed him to maintain a calm face.

If a being had answered their ritual, then it needed direction.

Purpose. A target they need to give it one.

Raising his ritual staff, he addressed the floating figures.

"Great ones..."

His voice echoed through the clearing.

"We seek neither gold nor power."

"We seek the downfall of a king."

The crimson eyes remained fixed upon him.

The elder continued.

"King Devaratha of Trivenivrata."

The surrounding practitioners immediately focused their attention.

This was the moment they had worked toward.

The elder pointed northward.

"Destroy the peace in his life."

"Destroy the peace of his kingdom."

"Let the people under his rule know suffering."

"Let their nights be restless."

"Let fear enter their homes."

"From this day onward, let none of them sleep peacefully."

The forest became silent again.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Then suddenly—A strange humming sound filled the clearing.

The air before the pishacha effigies began rippling.

Like a stone dropped into still water.

The distortion grew larger. Wider. Brighter.

Until a vast purple screen formed in midair.

Every practitioner gasped.

Some had spent decades studying forbidden arts and had never witnessed anything like this.

The floating pishachas slowly turned toward the screen.

The practitioners did the same.

At first the image was blurry.

Shifting. Unstable.

The scene changed repeatedly.

Mountains.

Rivers.

Villages.

Roads.

Then gradually the image settled.

The border of Trivenivrata appeared.

Several practitioners smiled immediately.

"It found the kingdom."

"It worked."

The image continued moving.

Crossing walls.

Passing streets.

Traveling deeper.

Like an invisible observer drifting through the kingdom.

The practitioners became more excited with every passing second.

The vision moved through bustling marketplaces.

Across temple grounds.

Past training fields.

Toward the royal city. Toward the royal palace itself.

Even the elder’s eyes widened slightly.

The ritual had surpassed his expectations.

Then the image entered the palace grounds.

Several practitioners laughed softly.

"So close."

"It reached the palace."

"The king is finished."

The image moved through ornate corridors.

Across courtyards.

Past fountains.

Until finally it reached a royal garden illuminated by moonless night lanterns.

And there—Standing peacefully among flowering trees—Was Devara.

The clearing erupted with excitement.

"We found him!"

"Look!"

"The target!"

Even the five clan leaders stared intently.

At first everything appeared perfect.

Their ritual had succeeded.

Their target stood directly before them.

Unaware. Unprotected.

Within reach of their tantra attack.

Then one of the practitioners frowned.

-Frown!

Something felt strange.

The image sharpened further.

And everyone noticed it.

Wrapped around Devara’s right arm was a black serpent.

A beautiful creature.

Its scales reflected faint shades of obsidian and violet.

It remained calmly coiled around his forearm as though it belonged there.

Meanwhile Devara seemed completely unconcerned by its presence.

He was casually feeding it small pieces of fruit while speaking to someone outside the screen.

Several practitioners exchanged puzzled looks.

"A pet?"

The elder narrowed his eyes.

"No."

Something about the serpent felt wrong.

Very wrong.

Then it happened.

The serpent suddenly stopped moving.

Its head slowly lifted. Its golden eyes turned.

Directly toward the screen. Toward them.

The entire clearing froze.

"...."

"...."

"...."

A chill spread through the forest.

Because for one terrifying moment—Every practitioner felt as though the creature was staring straight at them.

Not at the vision. Not at the palace.

At them.

Thousands of miles away.

The serpent’s eyes narrowed.

The pishacha effigies floating before the screen suddenly stopped moving.

Completely.

The excitement inside the clearing vanished instantly.

And for the first time since the ritual began—The elder felt genuine fear creeping into his heart.

Because whatever that black serpent was...

It had noticed them or sensed them.

Moments ago, excitement had filled the clearing.

They had found their target.

They had reached the royal palace.

Their ritual had successfully crossed hundreds of miles.

And then everything had gone wrong.

Very wrong.

The elder of the Krityagarha Clan slowly lowered his staff, his wrinkled face frozen in disbelief.

The image of Devara’s back had filled the screen for several moments.

He had been standing peacefully in the royal gardens.

Unaware.

Or so they had thought.

Then the vision had moved closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Until suddenly—Devara turned towards the screen.

The memory alone made several practitioners shudder.

They had not even properly seen his face.

Only his eyes.

Those impossible eyes.

For the briefest moment, two radiant green irises had appeared upon the screen.

Not human. Not mortal.

They resembled the eyes of a great lion staring through the boundary between worlds.

Ancient. Majestic. Predatory.

The instant those eyes met the screen...

The vision had glitched violently.

Cracks of green light spread across the purple surface.

The image distorted immediatly.

The entire screen shook as though struck by an invisible force.

Then it exploded.

-BOOM!

The blast had thrown several practitioners off their feet.

Some were still lying on the ground and vanished dispersing the energy.

Others were nursing burns and bruises.

Yet that was not the worst part.

The worst part had been the pishachas.

The blood-soaked effigies floating before the screen had suddenly caught fire.

Not ordinary fire.

Green-gold flames.

Flames that appeared from nowhere.

The pishachas possessing the effigies had begun screaming.

The sounds still echoed in the minds of everyone present.

It had not been anger. It had not been rage.

It had been terror. Pure terror.

The possessed effigies had twisted violently in the air.

Thrashing.

Convulsing.

Trying desperately to escape the flames.

Their screams had become louder and louder until the entire forest seemed filled with them.

Several younger practitioners had fallen to their knees from fear.

And then—Within seconds—The flames consumed everything.

The effigies.

The blood.

The rituals.

The pishachas themselves.

Nothing remained except drifting ashes.

Now those ashes floated silently through the clearing.

The ritual circle lay ruined.

The forest had fallen eerily quiet once more.

For a long time nobody spoke.

Finally one member of the Vetalakula Clan broke the silence.

"What... was that?"

Nobody answered immediately.

Because nobody knew.

The elder slowly bent down and picked up a handful of ash from where the largest effigy had stood.

His hand trembled slightly.

"The pishachas were destroyed."

A chill spread through the clearing.

Destroyed.

Not banished. Not dismissed.

Destroyed.

Another practitioner swallowed hard.

-Gulp!

"Just from looking at him?"

"No."

The elder’s voice was grave.

"Not him."

Everyone looked toward him.

The old man slowly raised his gaze toward the north.

Toward Trivenivrata. Toward Devara.

"Something inside him."

The words hung heavily in the air.

A member of the Nishachara Clan nodded slowly.

"I felt it."

Another added,

"The moment those eyes appeared..."

"It was like standing before the sun."

The elder remained silent for several moments.

Then he finally spoke.

"Whatever resides within King Devara..."

"...it is divine."

The clearing became quiet again.

Most of the practitioners felt fear.

Unease. Caution.

But not everyone. Because slowly...

A different emotion began appearing on several faces.

Greed. A dangerous greed.

One practitioner from the Raktayana Clan licked his lips unconsciously.

Another stared toward the north with burning curiosity.

A third clenched his fist tightly.

A divine power.

Something powerful enough to annihilate pishachas with a glance.

Something capable of reaching through a ritual across hundreds of miles.

Something hidden inside a mortal king.

The more they thought about it... The more tempting it became.

The elder immediately noticed the change.

And he did not like it. Not at all.

"Remove those thoughts from your minds."

His voice cracked through the clearing like thunder.

Several practitioners looked away. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

But others did not.

One younger practitioner spoke.

"If such power can be obtained..."

The elder slammed his staff into the ground.

"FOOL!"

The entire clearing shook.

His eyes burned with anger.

"You still do not understand what happened tonight."

The younger man fell silent.

The old practitioner slowly pointed toward the ashes of the destroyed pishachas.

"Those beings were not destroyed because they attacked him."

"They were destroyed because they merely looked upon him."

Silence. Heavy silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The elder’s face darkened.

"Something within that king saw them."

His voice had become almost a whisper.

"And whatever saw them..."

"...did not even consider them worthy of existing."

For the first time since the ritual failed, genuine fear entered several hearts.

Yet beneath that fear...

The seed of greed had already been planted.

And seeds, once planted, had a habit of growing into dangerous things.

The clearing remained silent after the elder’s warning.

The ashes of the destroyed effigies continued drifting through the cold night air.

Some practitioners were frightened.

Others were thoughtful.

And a few were still unable to suppress the greed growing inside their hearts.

A divine power.

A force capable of destroying pishachas from hundreds of miles away.

The temptation was difficult to ignore.

One of the younger practitioners finally broke the silence.

"If we could somehow learn the source of that power..."

Before he could finish speaking—A sudden chill swept through the clearing.

The temperature dropped so sharply that visible mist escaped from everyone’s mouths.

The torches flickered violently.

Several flames went out entirely.

The elder’s eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Then they heard it.

A voice. No. Many voices. Angry voices.

Dozens of them.

They seemed to come from every direction at once.

Above.

Below.

Behind.

Inside the trees.

Inside the fog.

The practitioners immediately stood and looked around.

"...."

"...."

"...."

But there was nothing to see.

Only darkness. Only fog.

Then the voices grew louder. Furious. Filled with hatred.

The elder’s face instantly turned pale as realization struck him.

"...."

The pishachas.

Their bodies had been destroyed.

But their spirits remained.

And they were angry. Very angry.

The forest erupted with furious shrieks.

"You fools!"

"You dragged us before that existence!"

"Our bodies were destroyed because of you!"

"Our suffering is your fault!"

The practitioners immediately formed protective circles and began chanting defensive mantras.

Several threw powders into the air.

Others drew symbols upon the ground.

But panic had already begun spreading.

The voices continued.

"You wanted destruction!"

"You wanted revenge!"

"Then receive it yourselves!"

The fog thickened rapidly.

Visibility dropped to only a few feet.

The elder shouted orders.

"Stay together!"

"Strengthen the barriers!"

"Do not break formation!"

Unfortunately, fear makes people foolish.

One practitioner from the Nishachara Clan stumbled backward.

Another turned in panic toward a voice only he could hear.

A third broke formation entirely.

The moment that happened—A scream echoed through the clearing.

Everyone turned.

One practitioner had collapsed onto the ground.

His body convulsed violently.

His terrified eyes stared at something nobody else could see.

He tried to speak. Tried to scream.

"...."

But no words came out.

Moments later he stopped moving.

Panic spread instantly among them.

Another scream followed. Then another.

The invisible spirits rushed through the clearing like a storm of rage.

Protective barriers shattered.

Torches exploded.

Ritual circles were ruined.

The practitioners desperately fought back with every technique they knew.

Yet their attackers could not be seen.

Could not be touched. Could not be predicted.

Within minutes four practitioners had fallen.

The survivors gathered tightly together in the center of the clearing.

Breathing heavily looked around.

Terrified.

The elder gripped his staff so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Then suddenly—The voices stopped.

The fog became still. The pressure vanished.

The forest fell silent once more.

The surviving practitioners remained frozen for several moments.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

Finally the fog slowly began dispersing.

As it did, the fallen practitioners became visible.

The sight made even the experienced elder close his eyes briefly.

The pishachas had left.

Their revenge was complete.

And they had left behind a message the survivors understood all too clearly.

Some powers were dangerous to challenge.

And some mistakes carried a price long after the ritual had ended.

The elder slowly looked toward the distant north where Trivenivrata lay beyond the darkness.

For the first time since this entire affair began, he felt something he had not experienced in many years.

Regret.

Because what had started as a contract for revenge was beginning to turn into something far larger than any of them had anticipated.

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(Author note:)

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

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Guys I have a new fic which named: Karuppan: King of Openings.