NOVEL NEXT Chapter 25: Darkness Grips the Heart of the Bandit Chief
Svetavastra had to make the decision quickly. It would take significant spiritual powers to properly eliminate the deep-seated ill-harboured emotions General Pushya possessed. Svetavastra would have to look into the general’s past with his mindsight and decipher when those emotions took root in the general’s heart. He would then have to cleanse the general’s heart - this took the most spiritual power. Svetavastra was not the one to hesitate normally in such situations but his spiritual powers were limited and the daily cultivation was nowhere enough to compensate for the loss should he proceed. I can’t leave him like this either, he thought. Maybe I can put some spiritual power into him and insulate those emotions from acting up for the time being. When I have more power I can properly help him.
General Pushya was stunned. Time seemed to have stilled for him the moment Svetavastra had put the spear-head against his neck. He was outwitted at his own game when all the variables were chosen by him to work in his favour. The only wrong assumption he made was that Svetavastra was a common cultivator. That proved to be a costly mistake. This was not a common cultivator, which common cultivator could have outsmarted and defeated him in only one move? This person standing tall in front of him with a calm look on his face - this was a seasoned warrior - someone who knew the ins and outs of warfare extremely well. General Pushya wondered how many years of experience this person needed to have made the move Svetavastra had just pulled off with such ease. General Pushya with his 4 decades of military experience was nowhere near this person’s abilities.
Are you even a mortal? The general thought. Did I fight with a God in disguise? It was probable. If gods were involved in the affairs of humans then something must have gone wrong terribly somewhere. General Pushya hung his head. On the bright side, Pushya, he reasoned with himself. You may have fought with a God. That’s a blessing in itself, at least I know what the handiwork of an elite warrior looks like. Most fortunate to learn it firsthand.
“I accept,” General Pushya conceded his defeat with grace.
For a moment, silence engulfed the training grounds - no one particularly knew how they were supposed to react - the acclaimed general getting defeated so easily on the one hand made the kingdom look weak, but on the other hand, it made Svetavastra an undisputed guru of Prince Aryaman - no one would dare to assume otherwise with this display of his fighting skills.
The King of Dayita was the first to make the move, he came forward on the dais and clapped his hands and smiled.
“This is wonderfully humbling!” He said in a jovial tone. He preserved his general’s dignity. “To compete and win against the greatest of Dayita’s warriors - what a sight! We are blessed to have a cultivator as skilled as Svetavastra to guide the crown prince in these troubling times.”
The crowd finding the way to lean, erupted into cheers. Prince Aryaman stood there wonderstruck - he had underestimated his own guru. I will have complete faith in you henceforth, Gurudeva, he thought to himself.
The old man hiding in the armoury looked at the training grounds with General Pushya still kneeling and Svetavastra standing in front of the general, now throwing the spear to the ground and pulling the general gently up with his hands. The old man closed his eyes and a silver light covered him and transformed him into a silver snake and he slid through the armoury.
Somewhere somewhat away from Arang, in a forest on the border of Dayita kingdom, the Kapala chief sat against a tree, sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves and danced on the mask on his face. His right hand clutched his chest - the searing pain in his heart since he merged the Vishrava mani, the green diamond of his ancestors into his heart using his yaksha powers, only grew. It had been some days since he had escaped the Northern Mines with his subordinate Lakhan.
But as the days passed, the pain kept increasing, sometimes in the dead of the night, he felt possessed, his eyes would turn black and he battled with voices in his head urging him to do unspeakable things, to start a rampage of bloodlust. The voices were relentless.
Kill everyone who stands in your way, they whispered loudly in his head. Kill them, take what is yours. Kill them. Kill them. Kill them.
Presently, he felt the pain getting the better of him, his right hand involuntarily gripped his whip-sword as if to lash it out. The Kapala chief surmised quickly that the target of his whip-sword was the clueless Lakhan in front of him who was preparing for the night ahead. The Kapala chief gripped his right hand with his left as if stopping it, he got up from the ground with some effort and hid behind the tree. Kill him, the voices in his head began. Kill him.
“Lakhan,” he called out, trying to maintain an even tone.
“Yes, chief?” Lakhan replied from the other side, he had been busy setting up wood into the campfire. Throughout these days, he was often sent on errands - sometimes to fetch wood, sometimes to fetch water, sometimes for a fancy fruit that grew in hidden places, unbeknownst to him, this was for his own safety.
Kill him, the voices continued. Kill him.
“I want you to go to Arang and look into our captured troops,” the Kapala chief said.
“Yes, I wanted to check on them myself,” he said, standing up and dusting his hands. “But you are not well. I don’t want to leave you.”
Kill him, the voices continued. Kill him.
Sweat tricked from the insides of the Kapala chief’s face and dripped drop by drop from the mask. His breathing was ragged. His left hand was still suppressing his right hand, and the muscles in his arms began to pop.
Kill him, the voices echoed without a break. Kill him. Kill him.
“I can take care of myself,” said the chief in a firm unshaken voice, mustering all of his energy. “Keep an eye on our soldiers. This is an order. Start out now. Take the horse with you.”
Lakhan stood still for a moment.
“Aye, chief,” he said, giving the tree a salute, he got on the only horse they managed to free during the escape from the Northern Mines and set his journey towards Arang.
After a few minutes, the Kapala chief finally let go of his hand and the whip-sword crackled into the tree leaving deep cuts and he collapsed to the floor and passed out.
When he woke up in the night, his mask had fallen off, his eyes were pitch black and a dark miasma surrounded him swirling across his body. As he walked out of the forest with his whip-sword dragged against the ground and into the border city of Dayita, where the towering city gates were manned by a good number of soldiers, a trail of barrenness was left in his wake.
Kill them. Kill them, the voices guided in his mind. Kill them. Kill them.
As he reached the city gates, the soldiers there stopped him. They looked at him warily, one of them called for reinforcements while one asked for his travel documents. Neither lived to see the next moment as the whip-sword took them out in a single blow. The metal blade pierced into their necks. Soldiers from the top of the city gates quickly launched arrows at the Kapala chief, an invisible barrier covered the latter and the arrows fell to the ground.
The Kapala chief razed through the soldiers who stopped him in a mechanical motion. The miasma that was swirling around him spread to the dead soldiers and they rose from the dead as the undead, their eyes pitch black and a similar dark miasma took over them and they began to attack the living.
Within the next hour, the entire city that was teeming with life, was invaded by the Kapala chief and his new army of the undead, no living being be it human, animal or otherwise was spared. The entire city turned into a tomb of the undead, the corpses walked around with pitch-black eyes and the dark miasma claimed them all.
The Kapala chief stood on top of the city gates and looked at the army of the undead, now standing as organised troops waiting for his orders. The darkness in his eyes and the miasma surrounding him receded, weakening the grip on him having quenched its bloodlust and spreading its matter and he regained his normal self.
He looked in horror at the ghastly sight in front of him. Hundreds of undead corpses standing in line. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the eerie silence was broken only by the chilling sound of their shuffling feet. The moon cast a pallid light over them, casting long, sinister shadows that danced around the corpses.
“What have I done?!” He murmured to himself.