Chapter 144: Chapter 142: You Braindead Fools Can Die... Relax...

(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...

I would like to this time choose a local deities.

--> Give me all the names you know. I would do research on them. Or you could share their story a little and their power and what they authority over.

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The night had reached its deepest hour.

The ritual grounds hidden within the forest were illuminated by hundreds of torches whose flames danced wildly against the darkness.

The preparations that had taken weeks were finally reaching their conclusion.

Every symbol had been drawn.

Every mantra had been recited.

Every offering had been prepared.

The five clan leaders stood proudly at the center of the massive ritual formation.

In their minds, victory was already within reach.

All that remained was the final sacrifice.

The ultimate offering.

The one that would supposedly attract the attention of one of the Dasa Mahavidyas1 and allow them to direct a devastating curse toward King Devara and the kingdom of Trivenivrata.

Nearby, several frightened women had been brought forward.

Bound.

Terrified.

Some were weeping silently.

Others prayed desperately to every god they knew.

The younger practitioners watching from the edges of the gathering felt increasingly uncomfortable.

Many had joined their clans seeking knowledge.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Some sought power.

Others sought wisdom.

Very few had imagined they would witness something like this.

Yet none dared challenge the authority of the clan heads.

Not openly.

The eldest among the leaders raised his ceremonial blade.

The weapon gleamed under the torchlight.

His voice thundered through the clearing.

"The final offering shall begin!"

The chants around him intensified.

Dozens of practitioners joined together.

The sound echoed throughout the forest.

The symbols carved into the ground glowed brighter.

The air itself seemed to vibrate.

Then suddenly...

A violent gust of wind tore through the clearing.

-WHOOSH!

The force was so strong that several torches nearly toppled over.

Robes fluttered violently.

Loose leaves exploded into the air.

The chanting faltered.

The eldest clan leader frowned.

"Continue!"

The practitioners obeyed.

The chanting resumed.

Yet the wind only grew stronger.

Branches bent violently overhead.

Dust swirled across the ritual circles.

The ceremonial flames flickered wildly.

It felt less like ordinary weather and more like something actively resisting the ritual.

Several practitioners exchanged uneasy glances.

One of the younger members swallowed nervously.

-Gulp!

"Why does it feel like the forest is trying to stop us?"

Nobody answered.

Because many were beginning to think the same thing.

Inside the healer’s hut, the surviving infiltrator sat upright.

The moment the wind began, a wide grin spread across his face.

-Grin!

"...."

A grin that frightened even the healers assigned to watch him.

Then he started laughing.

"-HAHAHAHA!!!"

Not quietly. Not softly.

Loudly. Wildly.

The sound echoed throughout the hut.

The healers immediately backed away.

The young man pointed toward the ritual grounds outside.

His remaining eye was wide with a mixture of terror and amusement.

"They still don’t understand!"

He laughed harder.

"They still don’t understand!"

One of the healers grabbed his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?"

The young man nearly doubled over laughing.

Then suddenly his laughter stopped.

His expression twisted.

For a brief moment, pure fear crossed his face.

"They’ve lost their minds."

His voice became a whisper.

"A little power..."

"A little hatred..."

"And now they’ve invited death with open arms."

The healers looked at one another.

The survivor suddenly jumped from his bed.

The movement startled everyone.

He rushed toward the hut entrance.

"Wait!"

One healer shouted.

The young man ignored him.

"...."

He burst out of the hut and immediately started running toward the deeper parts of the forest.

Away from the ritual. Away from the settlement.

Away from everyone.

As though every instinct inside him was screaming to flee.

Several practitioners attempted to stop him.

He pushed past them.

"No!"

His voice echoed through the darkness.

"You stay if you want!"

"I’m leaving!"

"I’m not dying here! You brain dead fools."

The madness in his voice sent chills through everyone who heard it.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Then he vanished into the trees.

Running as fast as his wounded body could carry him.

Back at the ritual grounds, nobody paid him much attention.

The clan leaders were focused entirely upon the final sacrifice.

The eldest among them tightened his grip around the ceremonial blade.

The bound women trembled.

The chanting reached its peak.

The symbols glowed brilliantly.

The air became thick with spiritual energy.

Slowly, the elder raised the blade high above his head.

"...."

The final moment had arrived.

Then—A flash of white light exploded across the clearing.

For a split second it was brighter than daylight.

Before anyone could react—

-CRACK!!!

A bolt of lightning descended from the sky.

It struck the elder directly.

The impact was instantaneous.

There was no scream because there is no time left for him to react.

No opportunity to react. No chance to defend himself.

The lightning swallowed him whole.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

Several nearby practitioners were thrown backward by the shockwave.

When the blinding light finally faded, the elder was gone.

Not injured. Not wounded.

Gone.

Only a pile of black ash remained where he had been standing moments earlier.

The clearing fell silent. Completely silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

No chants. No voices.

Nothing.

Every practitioner stared in disbelief.

One of the clan leaders slowly turned toward the sky.

His face had become pale.

Others followed.

They expected storm clouds.

Dark thunderheads.

Signs of approaching rain.

Instead...

The sky was perfectly clear.

The stars shone brilliantly overhead.

The moon hung peacefully above the forest.

There wasn’t a single storm cloud visible.

The realization caused fear to spread through the gathering.

If there were no clouds...

Then where had the lightning come from?

Nobody had an answer.

The silence deepened.

Then the temperature dropped.

Suddenly. Violently.

Several practitioners shivered.

Their breath became visible.

The torches flickered weakly.

A strange mist began appearing between the trees.

At first it was thin.

Barely noticeable.

Then it thickened. And thickened. And thickened.

Until fog started rolling through the clearing from every direction.

The mist moved unnaturally.

Like living water.

Like something purposeful.

The entire forest seemed to be preparing itself.

Preparing for the arrival of someone important.

Someone ancient.

Someone who commanded respect from nature itself.

The remaining clan leaders immediately gathered together.

Weapons appeared.

Protective talismans were activated.

Several practitioners began chanting defensive mantras.

The confidence that had existed earlier was completely gone.

One of the leaders swallowed nervously.

"Could it be the pishachas?"

Another nodded hearing the guess.

"They swore revenge."

"It might be them."

The possibility spread rapidly.

Many practitioners began looking into the fog expecting monstrous spirits to emerge at any moment.

Yet something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

The signs didn’t match.

Pishachas were creatures of corruption.

Decay. Violence.

Their arrival brought foul odors and oppressive darkness.

This was different.

The fog felt cold.

Not corrupted.

The atmosphere felt terrifying.

But not evil.

The difference was subtle.

Yet undeniable.

One of the surviving clan leaders slowly tightened his grip around his staff.

His heart was beating faster.

Then his thoughts drifted toward the young survivor who had returned from Trivenivrata.

Toward the warnings they had ignored.

Toward the terror in his eye.

Toward the desperate way he had begged them to stop.

A terrible realization slowly formed in his mind.

His face turned pale.

Could it be...

Not that they had summoned something.

But that something had followed the survivor?

The elder slowly looked into the growing fog.

For the first time in many years, genuine fear entered his heart.

Because deep down he knew.

Whatever was coming...

It wasn’t responding to their ritual. It was coming because of it.

The fog continued to spread through the forest.

It rolled across the ground like a living thing.

Around the ritual clearing, the practitioners stood with weapons, charms, and ritual implements in hand. Their earlier confidence had vanished completely.

Nobody spoke loudly anymore.

Nobody boasted anymore.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The pile of ash that had once been one of their most powerful clan leaders served as a constant reminder that something had gone terribly wrong.

The remaining clan heads scanned the darkness.

Every shadow seemed suspicious.

Every movement among the trees caused their nerves to tighten.

Then—

A laugh echoed through the forest.

"Hehehehehe..."

The sound was soft.

Childlike.

Almost playful.

Yet the moment it reached their ears, every hair on their bodies stood upright.

The laughter carried something unnatural within it.

Something that made even experienced tantra practitioners feel uncomfortable.

The sound bounced between the trees.

Impossible to determine where it had originated.

Several practitioners immediately spun around.

Others began muttering protective mantras under their breath.

The remaining clan leaders exchanged wary looks.

"Heard that?"

One asked quietly.

Nobody answered.

Because everyone had heard it.

Then the laughter came again.

"Hehehehe..."

This time it sounded closer.

Much closer.

One of the younger practitioners nervously looked around.

His eyes swept across the fog-covered branches overhead.

Suddenly he froze.

His face lost all color.

A trembling finger slowly rose.

"There..."

His voice cracked.

"There!"

Every head turned toward the direction he was pointing.

At first they saw nothing.

Only darkness.

Only a large tree standing near the edge of the clearing.

The branch itself was almost completely hidden by shadows.

Then they noticed it.

A shape.

Something was lying on one of the thick branches.

The darkness concealed its appearance.

All they could make out was a silhouette.

The practitioners immediately stepped backward.

Several raised their ritual staffs.

Others began preparing defensive spells.

The figure didn’t move.

It simply remained there.

Watching.

Then suddenly—Two bright yellow eyes opened.

The glow pierced through the darkness.

Several practitioners gasped.

One nearly dropped his talisman.

The eyes were unlike anything they had seen before.

Too bright.

Too aware.

Too intelligent.

And then... A smile appeared beneath them.

A wide smile.

Far wider than it had any right to be.

Sharp white teeth became visible.

Floating in the darkness.

For a moment, all they could see were those glowing eyes and that unnatural grin.

The sight alone was enough to send a chill racing down every spine.

Several practitioners involuntarily took another step backward.

The remaining clan leaders felt their mouths go dry.

The smile widened.

As though it was enjoying their reaction.

Then one of the practitioners hurriedly lifted a large oil lamp.

Others followed.

Soon several lanterns and torches were raised toward the branch.

The light slowly pushed back the darkness.

And finally...

They saw the owner of those eyes.

The clearing fell silent.

The figure appeared no larger than a ten-year-old child.

Thin. Small.

Almost harmless-looking.

At least at first glance.

"...."

The creature lay comfortably upon the branch.

One arm resting behind its head.

One leg lazily dangling in the air.

It looked less like a terrifying supernatural entity and more like a child relaxing on a summer afternoon.

As though the branch was its personal bed.

As though it belonged there.

As though it had absolutely no concern for the dozens of armed practitioners surrounding it.

The glowing yellow eyes swept across the gathering.

Then the creature grinned.

-Grin!

"...."

Several of the older practitioners immediately recognized the description.

The stories.

The rumors.

The warnings whispered among wandering spirits.

One elder felt his stomach sink.

"No..."

His voice emerged as a whisper.

The creature immediately looked toward him.

The grin widened.

"He remembers."

That single sentence caused the elder’s face to become even paler.

The remaining clan leaders immediately prepared their spells.

Protective mantras erupted throughout the clearing.

Symbols began glowing.

Charms activated.

Several practitioners raised ritual knives.

Others began forming attack mudras.

The atmosphere became tense.

One wrong movement and the clearing would erupt into violence.

Yet the creature simply laughed.

Not mockingly. Not cruelly.

Almost as if it found their panic amusing.

"Hehehe..."

The child-sized being slowly sat upright upon the branch.

Swinging his feet lazily.

His glowing eyes scanned the gathering.

Then he pointed toward them.

"Relax."

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(Author note:)

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

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New Template:

But it will manifest little later into the story.

I would like to this time choose a local deities.

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Don’t forget to review guys...

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

ten aspects of the Divine Mother