(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 festival entered its fifth day.

On the surface, Mallikavana remained as lively as ever.

The fragrance of fresh flowers still drifted through the streets.

Merchants continued calling out to customers, children chased one another between the decorated stalls, and musicians tried their best to restore the festive mood that had briefly been shattered a few days earlier.

Yet anyone paying close attention could immediately sense that the village was no longer the same.

The kingdom had become a fortress.

Royal soldiers stood at nearly every crossroads, their sharp eyes constantly scanning the passing crowds.

Patrols moved through the streets at regular intervals, stopping strangers without hesitation.

Every cart entering or leaving the village was inspected.

Every unfamiliar traveler was questioned.

Anyone whose answers sounded even slightly suspicious was quietly escorted away for further investigation.

The soldiers no longer believed in coincidences.

Someone had infiltrated the royal camp itself.

Someone had kidnapped the princess right under the noses of hundreds of trained guards.

To the army, it wasn’t merely a crime.

It was humiliation.

A stain upon their honor.

Their commander had made only one thing clear.

"No more mistakes."

The order spread through every patrol.

"If you have even the slightest doubt..."

"Investigate."

"If necessary, arrest first and ask questions later."

No soldier dared take unnecessary risks anymore.

Even the villagers noticed the difference.

Groups of guards constantly walked through the marketplace, occasionally stopping individuals whose behavior appeared unusual.

Most people cooperated willingly.

Those who protested found themselves surrounded almost immediately.

Meanwhile, hidden among the thousands of visitors attending the festival...

Several members of the forest tribe quietly blended into the crowd.

Their rough tribal clothing had been exchanged for ordinary garments purchased from traveling merchants.

Their tattoos were concealed beneath long sleeves.

Their weapons remained hidden.

To everyone else...

They appeared to be nothing more than ordinary festival visitors.

Patiently... They waited.

A short distance away, inside the royal encampment, another meeting was taking place.

Unlike the king’s pavilion, this tent remained closed to outsiders.

Only one lantern burned inside.

Mahamantri Vikrama Varman stood with both hands resting behind his back as he studied a map spread across the table before him.

"...."

The entrance flap opened quietly.

Thirty men stepped inside.

Each wore the armor of royal guards.

Their helmets concealed most of their faces.

To anyone outside...

They were simply another unit assigned to protect the festival.

Only Vikrama knew the truth.

These were the very same men who had staged the kidnapping inside the queen’s pavilion.

The same men who had delivered Princess Indhumati into the hands of Pushpasura’s followers before retreating as instructed.

One by one...

All thirty dropped to one knee.

"My Lord."

Vikrama didn’t immediately respond.

His fingers slowly traced the routes marked upon the map.

Only after several moments did he finally speak.

"The mission failed."

None of the men dared answer.

"The princess returned alive."

His calm voice somehow felt colder than shouting.

"My Lord..."

the captain cautiously began,

"We successfully handed her over to the tribe as instructed."

"What happened afterward was beyond our control."

Vikrama slowly turned toward him.

"I know."

His expression remained unreadable.

"The tribesmen are dead."

Every man inside the tent stiffened.

"So..."

Vikrama continued,

"Someone interfered."

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"The question is..."

"...who?"

Silence answered him.

"...."

"...."

"...."

No one possessed that information.

Vikrama let out a slow breath before dismissing the subject with a wave of his hand.

"It no longer matters."

"The past cannot be changed."

He walked toward the kneeling men.

"This time... your task is much simpler."

Every guard listened attentively.

"You are already stationed inside the royal security detail."

"No one suspects you."

"You have access to places ordinary men cannot reach."

He stopped directly before their captain.

"I don’t require another kidnapping. I don’t require another elaborate plan."

His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"I need only one thing."

The captain raised his head.

"Her blood."

Vikrama’s eyes gleamed with frightening intensity.

"Find an opening."

"A moment. A distraction. An accident."

"I care little how you accomplish it."

He leaned forward slightly.

"All I need... is something stained with Princess Indhumati’s blood."

He slowly raised one finger.

"Even a single drop. That will be enough."

The captain frowned hearing it.

"My Lord... If I may ask... Why only blood?"

Vikrama smiled faintly.

It was not the smile of a loyal minister.

Nor that of a loving uncle.

It carried something far darker.

"There are rituals..."

he said quietly,

"...that require very little."

"The less blood demanded... the more dangerous the ritual usually becomes."

He offered no further explanation.

The captain immediately lowered his head.

"As you command."

The remaining twenty-nine guards followed suit.

"As you command."

Vikrama looked at each of them in turn.

"Until an opportunity presents itself... continue performing your duties normally."

"Protect the princess."

"Earn everyone’s trust."

"And when fate finally opens a door..."

His smile slowly widened.

"...strike without hesitation."

The men nodded in complete silence.

None of them questioned the order.

They rose together, saluted, and quietly left the tent one after another.

Soon, only Vikrama remained.

He walked back toward the table and looked at the map of Mallikavana spread before him.

Then his gaze shifted toward the Flower Forest marked in the distance.

"So..."

he murmured to himself,

"Whoever you are..."

"...you’ve ruined one of my plans."

His fingers slowly clenched.

"But no matter."

"There is always another move."

After all...

A game of kings was never decided by a single setback.

As the festival entered another night, the lively sounds that had filled Mallikavana throughout the day slowly faded away.

The market stalls were gradually closing one after another.

Merchants covered their goods with thick cloth before retiring for the night, while the last few visitors reluctantly returned to their homes or temporary shelters.

Only the royal camp remained fully awake.

Torches burned brightly along every path.

Additional patrols continuously marched around the village and the surrounding Flower Forest.

No one dared become careless after the kidnapping of the princess.

Hidden among the darkness...

Another figure silently moved through the village.

His face remained concealed behind the same terrifying mask.

His dark cloak blended naturally with the night’s shadows, making him seem like nothing more than another patch of darkness drifting between the buildings.

Devara.

Ever since rescuing Princess Indhumati, he had not stopped his nightly investigation.

The surviving tribesman had escaped before he could question him.

That meant one thing.

There were still pieces missing from the puzzle.

He moved from rooftop to rooftop before quietly descending into another narrow alley.

His green eyes calmly observed every passing face.

’If the followers of Pushpasura infiltrated once... They’ll try again. Or already succeeded.’

"Fanatics rarely abandon their purpose after one failure."

For nearly an hour, he found nothing unusual.

Most of the people moving through the village were ordinary guards changing shifts, merchants securing their belongings, or villagers returning home after enjoying the festival.

Everything appeared...

Normal. Almost too normal.

Just as Devara was about to leave the area, voices reached his ears.

"...I’m telling you, the food today was better than yesterday."

"You say that every day."

A small group of royal guards entered a clearing near one of the wells.

Laughing among themselves, they sat beside several buckets of water after finishing their patrol.

One of them removed his helmet with a tired sigh.

"My wife cooks much better than the royal kitchen."

Another immediately laughed.

"Everything tastes better when your wife makes it."

The group burst into laughter.

Devara quietly watched them from the roof of a nearby building.

Nothing about them appeared suspicious.

They behaved exactly as ordinary soldiers should.

One guard untied the cloth bundle hanging from his waist.

Inside remained a few leftovers from the evening meal.

He casually finished eating while talking with the others.

Afterward, the group walked toward the well.

One after another, they began washing their hands.

Devara had already turned away.

Then...

His movement suddenly stopped.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

One of the guards had rolled up his sleeve while washing away the food stains.

On the inside of his forearm...

A familiar symbol became visible beneath the torchlight.

A tattoo.

Not large.

Barely the size of two fingers.

But its shape...

Devara recognized it instantly.

His gaze sharpened.

’That mark...’

He had seen it before.

Not once.

But several days ago.

Inside the underground passage.

On the arm of one of the men who had kidnapped Princess Indhumati.

The design was impossible to mistake.

A twisted flower wrapped around an eye-like symbol, with thorn-like lines branching outward.

It was unlike the tattoos worn by ordinary tribes.

This one had clearly been created for identification.

The guard finished washing his hands and casually lowered his sleeve again, completely unaware that someone had noticed the mark.

His companions continued chatting without paying it any attention.

Which meant...

Either they already knew about it...

Or they had never seen it.

Devara remained perfectly still.

His heartbeat never changed.

’Interesting... A royal guard... Bearing the same mark as one of the kidnappers.’

His earlier suspicion immediately resurfaced.

’So... The mole wasn’t merely helping from the shadows. The enemy has already infiltrated the royal guards themselves.’

His eyes slowly shifted toward the other soldiers.

One...

Two...

Three...

As they casually poured water over their hands, another guard unknowingly adjusted the leather guard around his wrist.

For only a brief moment...

The edge of another identical tattoo became visible.

Then a third.

Hidden beneath another sleeve.

Devara’s expression became noticeably more serious.

’Not just one... An entire unit.’

Now everything made sense.

How thirty men had entered the royal encampment without resistance.

How they had known the patrol routes.

How they had escaped before the camp could fully surround them.

They hadn’t disguised themselves as guards.

They were guards.

Or at least...

Men officially serving as guards.

Devara quietly leaned against the tiled roof, watching them continue their casual conversation.

One of them even yawned before stretching lazily.

Anyone seeing them now would think they were nothing more than exhausted soldiers after a long day’s duty.

The perfect disguise.

The perfect hiding place.

A faint smile slowly appeared beneath Devara’s mask.

’Found you.’

He didn’t move. He didn’t attack.

Not yet.

Instead, he silently memorized every one of their faces.

Sometimes...

Following the prey back to its den revealed far more than capturing it immediately.

Devara did not make a move.

His fingers rested lightly against the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath his cloak, but he never drew it.

Attacking now would accomplish very little.

At most, he could eliminate a handful of men.

The ones truly pulling the strings would simply disappear deeper into the shadows.

’No... If I want to uproot this... I need to see how far its roots have spread.’

Like a silent phantom, he withdrew from the rooftop before the guards even realized someone had been watching them.

The night became his ally once again.

Instead of returning to the merchant’s tent, Devara began moving through every corner of Mallikavana.

The rooftops...

The narrow alleys...

The crowded streets where the last few vendors were packing away their goods...

Nothing escaped his attention.

Hours slowly passed.

Every time he noticed someone behaving even slightly suspiciously, he quietly followed them from a distance.

Soon...

Another familiar tattoo appeared.

This time it belonged to a royal guard standing beside one of the eastern gates.

Unlike the previous man, this guard kept his sleeves rolled up while sharpening his spear.

The strange thorn-like symbol on his forearm was clearly visible beneath the torchlight.

Devara’s expression remained calm.

’Another one.’

He silently committed the man’s face to memory before moving on.

Not long afterward...

He spotted the tattoo again.

This time...

It belonged to a merchant selling fragrant oils and herbal medicines.

The man looked completely ordinary.

He laughed with his customers.

He haggled over prices.

He even complained about the increased security making business difficult.

Nothing about him suggested danger.

Yet when he reached beneath his stall to retrieve another bottle, his sleeve shifted just enough for the tattoo to reveal itself.

Exactly the same.

Not similar.

The very same symbol.

’Interesting...’

Devara continued observing without interrupting the merchant’s business.

An hour later...

Another.

A man carrying sacks of grain toward the storage houses.

Another.

A cart driver transporting flower baskets.

Another.

A wandering musician entertaining children with a flute.

One after another...

The symbol continued appearing.

Sometimes on the wrist.

Sometimes near the forearm.

Always hidden carefully beneath clothing.

Always revealed only through coincidence.

As midnight approached, Devara finally stopped beneath the roof of an abandoned warehouse overlooking the village.

From there, he quietly reviewed everything he had discovered.

Royal guards.

Merchants.

Laborers.

Travelers.

Even ordinary-looking villagers.

At first glance...

They appeared to have nothing in common.

Different occupations.

Different ages.

Different backgrounds.

Yet every one of them carried the same tattoo.

The same silent mark.

A mark he had first seen inside the underground tunnels on the men who had abducted Princess Indhumati.

He slowly folded his arms.

’This isn’t a small tribe anymore. It’s a network. Who had infiltrated."

His eyes wandered across the sleeping village below.

The realization settled heavily in his mind.

These people weren’t merely hiding among the population.

They were the population.

Some guarded the royal camp.

Some traded in the marketplace.

Some transported supplies.

Others simply wandered through the festival, blending perfectly with everyone else.

Individually... None of them stood out.

Together...

They formed something far more dangerous.

A hidden tribe quietly woven into the village itself.

Devara looked toward the distant royal encampment where hundreds of torches illuminated the night.

’No wonder they managed to kidnap the princess. They didn’t infiltrate the village... They’ve been ahead of others all this time.’

He closed his eyes for a brief moment.

The image of the underground ritual returned to his mind.

The skull.

The summoned legion.

The worshippers willing to sacrifice their own lives without hesitation.

There was no longer any doubt.

Every person bearing that tattoo shared one connection.

They all belonged to the same hidden faith.

Followers of Pushpasura.

Some were fanatics.

Others were spies.

Some acted as messengers.

Others waited patiently for orders.

Like roots spreading beneath the earth, they had quietly extended their influence into every corner of the kingdom.

For the first time since arriving in Mallikavana...

Devara felt the true scale of the enemy he was facing.

This was no longer about hunting a handful of cultists hiding inside a forest.

He was standing against an entire tribe who want’s destruction that had spent years, perhaps decades, planting its people wherever they could be most useful.

A faint smile slowly appeared beneath his mask.

Instead of discouraging him...

The discovery only strengthened his resolve.

"The bigger the web..."

he murmured softly to himself,

"...the easier it is to find the spider."

With one final glance over the sleeping village, Devara melted back into the darkness, already planning his next move.

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(Author note:)

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

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Don’t forget to review guys...

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