The memory ended with the sound of water crashing against the rocks. For Rudra, it was that splash which marked the end. It was the same sound that had swallowed Danny's final breath. The same splash that had claimed a life.
The boy's fragile hold on existence had snapped without resistance. It was like watching a bubble burst, sudden and irreversible. Danny was gone. And the dead do not speak.
But this was not just a memory of death. It had not been like watching a stranger fade away. Rudra had seen it all through Danny's own eyes. He had felt everything as if it were happening to him. The warmth of a mother's embrace. The weight of helplessness when justice remained out of reach. The bitter rage of being powerless while his father's killers walked free. All of it came at once, crashing into him like a tidal wave of emotions that left him breathless.
His fingers twitched. He could still feel the phantom pressure of water choking him. He could still taste the murky river in his mouth. Even now, sitting on dry earth, he struggled to breathe. The boy's final struggle replayed over and over in his mind. He saw the flailing arms, the panic as lungs filled with water, and the stillness that followed when the body gave up.
Rudra had predicted many deaths before. As a palmist, he had studied the fate etched into people's hands. He had looked ahead for others. But this was the first time he had witnessed his own end.
And now it was happening again. Death stood outside his door, knocking politely, as if greeting an old friend who had taken too long to return.
The system resumed its buffering process, a spinning wheel in the centre of his vision. Rudra ignored it at first, lost in the aftermath of Danny's last moments. But the light from the loading circle began to shift. The red glow pulsed unnaturally. Lines of pale ash streaked through it, a familiar white powder. It was the same ash he remembered from the Asura's forehead.
Then the screen flickered to life again, floating in front of his eyes. Despite the darkness of the surrounding park, its light remained crisp. He did not know how much time had passed. The moon had risen high. City sounds had faded into silence.
A message appeared.
[MEMORY FILE: ASURA ACCESSED]
[CONTINUE]
For a moment, Rudra hesitated. How could this system even contain the memories of the Asura? Danny's memories made sense. Their link had been direct, physical. But this? This reached into something else entirely. These were not his thoughts. These were fragments of someone who had long since passed. How was this possible?
Was the system reading something deeper than memory? Was it pulling information from the soul itself?
The idea disturbed him. The rules had changed.
Click.
He pressed the glowing button.
He braced himself. He had no idea what was coming, but he knew it would not be gentle.
[BEGINNING SEQUENCE: ASURA'S PERSPECTIVE]
The scene opened on a black stone resting near the riverbank. The Asura sat cross-legged, his posture locked in silent meditation. Energy still danced around him. Faint signs of the ritual lingered, traces of power flickering like lightning beneath the surface.
A circle had been drawn in the dirt, strange symbols glowing at its edges. Their light had begun to fade, but the air still crackled. Colours painted the ground in layers. Reds for sacrifice. Yellows and blacks for balance. White for transcendence. Ritual dust lay scattered across the stones. Small offerings burned nearby. Human hair. Animal bones. Sacred metals. Forbidden ingredients known only to those who walked the old paths.
It looked like the Asura had poured everything he had into completing the ritual. His skin was marked with burns and carvings. Symbols crawled beneath the surface like ink come alive.
The ritual was complete. Its purpose was simple. Bind a soul to dead flesh. Defy death itself. Break the final law.
"This is what decades of hardwork have led me to," the Asura murmured. His voice sounded satisfied. Calm. Each word came slow and measured, shaped by years of silence and thought.
"I have pursued this knowledge for sixty five years without rest. Today, I claim it as mine."
He moved his hands, watching sparks rise between his fingers.
"I have lived for more than thousand years. I have flown through the skies. I have breathed underwater like the fish. I have become fire and shaped myself into beasts. From the smallest insect to the grandest elephant, I have taken every form."
He smiled faintly.
"But this power is different. This power has never belonged to anyone before me. I am the first. That is why it required so much time and sacrifice."
He paused and stared at his palms.
"No other Asura has reached this point. None except one. The First."
Even in solitude, even surrounded by power, the thought of that ancient figure sent unease through him. The First Asura was legend. His power was too vast to measure. It was said he had existed since the world's first breath. He had watched time unfold, never blinking, never fading.
Compared to him, I am only beginning. But perhaps, one day...
"Starting tomorrow, I begin the practice of immortality. Like the First, I will no longer belong to the mortal world. I will step beyond it. Death will become an idea. Nothing more."
Then the stillness broke.
A sound reached him. Faint. A splash followed by struggle.
Who could be in the river at such an hour? A new moon had darkened the sky. Spirits moved more freely on such nights. Mortals were not meant to be outside.
The Asura narrowed his gaze. Who would dare walk near Pureflow tonight?
Then he saw it.
A figure tossed by the water. A boy. Small. Helpless. Drowning.
The river twisted around him, dragging him down again and again. He disappeared beneath the surface, only to rise for air before the next wave struck him. Blood trickled from cuts on his arms and face. His clothes had been torn. His limbs flailed without rhythm. He was slipping beneath the surface for the final time.
No ordinary man would have seen him. But the Asura was not ordinary.
He saw every detail. Every gasp. Every wound.
The boy looked to be no more than seventeen. His expression was not just fear. It was heartbreak. This was no accident. This boy had suffered before the river took him.
"Should I intervene?" the Asura whispered.
"Or should I let the fate decide?"
****************************************************
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