Silence followed the fall.
Not the peaceful kind—
but the kind that presses against the ears, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
A sudden clang shattered the stillness.
The metal door of the truck buckled inward.
Again.
And again.
A black mushroom-like head slammed against it from the outside, cracking steel with each strike.
Amitesh spun around.
"We have to do something," he shouted. "If it breaks through—"
Another impact cut him off.
From outside came a wet, distorted sound—something between breathing and laughter.
Mahaveer didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the moment like it was his last chance.
With a sharp exhale, he kicked the door open.
His body ignited with light.
Meridian Sage Mode.
The glow crawled beneath his skin as he leapt out of the truck.
"Wait—!" Zoey shouted.
"Run!" Mahaveer barked back.
He moved fast—too fast.
In a single motion, he cut the mushroom head cleanly in two.
For a split second, there was relief.
Then—
From the severed halves, flesh twisted and reshaped.
Two new mushroom heads grew where one had fallen.
Amitesh swore under his breath and jumped down after him.
"Don't!" Zoey yelled, her hands clenching at her sides.
But it was too late.
The vehicle in front suddenly started moving.
Zoey froze.
"…Damn it. I can't go now."
She glanced at Gauri.
Gauri's jaw tightened.
"I'm not leaving my father."
Zoey clicked her tongue. "Fine. Then let's end this fast."
Amitesh and Mahaveer stood side by side.
Two mushroom heads faced them, bodies crackling with unstable energy.
System Scan:
Species: Mushroom Head
Level: Mana Sage
One raised its hand—fire condensed in its palm.
The other's body sparked violently, lightning crawling over its skin.
Amitesh barely had time to react.
A punch hit him square in the chest and sent him flying.
He skidded across the ground, breath knocked out of him.
"He's fast," Amitesh muttered.
His teeth clenched.
"Twenty Meridian Sage Mode—activate!"
Pain ripped through his body as power surged open. He screamed—not from agony alone, but from the strain of forcing his limits wider.
He launched himself forward.
His punch connected.
The mushroom head was sent spinning, crashing into a cluster of iron rods. It shrieked, its body convulsing—then, horrifyingly, it began cutting into itself.
"What is it doing?" Amitesh whispered.
A voice echoed in his mind.
Kill it fast.
Take all my power.
Raktbeej.
Amitesh's focus snapped to Mahaveer.
Mahaveer was struggling—burn marks covered his arms, his breathing uneven.
Amitesh didn't think.
He rushed forward, grabbed the mushroom head by the neck, and burned it from the inside out with raw energy.
"Are you okay?" Amitesh asked.
Mahaveer gave a weak grin. "Well… no."
Behind them—
Footsteps.
Four.
Four mushroom heads emerged, fire already forming in their hands.
"Do you dare hurt my papa?"
Gauri's voice cut through the chaos.
Zoey slammed her foot into the ground.
The earth responded.
The ground beneath the mushroom heads surged upward, trapping their legs like iron jaws.
For a heartbeat, it worked.
Then—
They began cutting off their own arms.
The severed limbs flew in different directions.
Where they landed—
New mushroom heads began to form.
And that—
That was when everyone realized.
This fight wasn't meant to be won by strength alone.
When Gauri Stepped Forward
Power answered power.
The moment Gauri moved, the battlefield changed.
"Thirty-five Meridian Sage Mode."
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Light erupted beneath her feet—not violent, not wild, but absolute. The ground answered her presence as if it had been waiting.
Zoey inhaled sharply and slammed her heel into the earth.
"Twenty-five Meridian Sage Mode."
The land shuddered.
Stone rolled like waves beneath the surface, veins of earth awakening at her command.
Beside them—
Amitesh and Mahaveer stood shoulder to shoulder.
"Twenty Meridian Sage Mode," Amitesh said, fire flickering around one hand, wind tightening around the other.
Mahaveer's eyes sparked.
"Electric element—awakening stage."
Lightning wrapped around his arms, unstable but fierce.
The mushroom heads didn't retreat.
They multiplied.
"They're increasing," Amitesh said, breath tight.
Mahaveer's gaze hardened.
"Yes—but regeneration has limits.
They're burning resources."
Gauri didn't answer.
She raised her hand—
And slammed it into the ground.
The earth screamed.
Massive stone spikes erupted upward, faster than thought, impaling mushroom heads mid-motion and lifting them into the air like grotesque trophies. Their movements spasmed, suspended helplessly above the battlefield.
Amitesh stepped forward.
"Wind—compress."
Air folded into his fist, pressure screaming as it tightened.
"Fire—ignite."
He released the punch.
The wind fist tore forward, and the fire followed—feeding on the compression, turning into a roaring, spiraling inferno. The impact detonated through the trapped enemies, flames consuming space itself.
At the same time—
Gauri moved.
She didn't dodge.
She didn't retreat.
She advanced.
Wind blades formed around her arms, invisible until they cut. Each strike was precise, merciless—bodies split, momentum erased, regeneration interrupted before it could begin.
The remaining mushroom heads reacted together.
Fire converged.
A single, focused blaze rushed toward her.
Gauri raised her hand.
A Dao Shield bloomed into existence.
Pure white.
Luminous.
Covered in glowing strokes and patterns that looked less like techniques and more like written law.
The flames crashed into it and vanished.
Amitesh burned through another enemy and turned—
Too late.
One mushroom head screamed and severed its own arm, hurling it away before he could finish it. The remaining body—burned, skeletal, sharp bones exposed—lunged at him in desperation.
Amitesh braced—
But Gauri was already there.
She stepped between them, shield raised.
"Hehe," she said lightly, "you were
almost dead."
Then—
Crack.
The Dao Shield shattered.
Her smile froze.
"Oh oh," she muttered. "Out of Dao."
The sharp bone pierced her lower abdomen.
Amitesh roared.
Fire engulfed the creature completely, erasing it where it stood.
He caught Gauri as she staggered.
"It's bleeding—are you okay?"
She hissed through clenched teeth.
"Yes. Not deep."
Then, honestly—
"But it hurts like hell."
They didn't get time to breathe.
Mushroom heads closed in from every direction.
Zoey and Mahaveer rushed back, forming a circle around them.
Mahaveer grabbed Gauri, steadying her.
"Gauri—look at me. Are you okay?"
Amitesh's voice dropped.
"Do you have mana left?"
She laughed softly.
"A lot."
Amitesh exhaled and raised his hand.
Air gathered—more than before.
Denser.
Wilder.
"Then let's finish this."
Gauri placed her hand over his.
They synchronized.
The air swelled outward like a living storm.
Amitesh ignited it.
Fire didn't spread—
It erupted.
Wave after wave rolled across the battlefield. Trees ignited instantly.
Plastic warped and vanished. The road softened, cracked, and flowed. Car windows shattered from heat alone.
The night turned white.
When it finally ended—
Nothing moved.
Blackened ground stretched in every direction.
Smoke curled upward.
And the air smelled of ash and finality.
No regeneration.
No whispers.
Only silence.
The kind that stays.
The battlefield breathed with them.
Everyone stood bent slightly forward, chests rising and falling hard, lungs burning as if they had swallowed the fire themselves.
What lay before them had once been an ordinary stretch of road.
Now—
It was unrecognizable.
Blackened ground spread outward like a scar. Twisted metal hissed softly. Smoke curled upward in thin, stubborn strands. Heat still shimmered in the air, distorting what little light remained.
Mahaveer wiped sweat from his brow and scanned the area.
"Some things are still burning," he said. "If we leave it like this, it could spread."
He reached into the truck, pulled out a fire extinguisher, and got to work without another word. White foam burst forward, smothering the stubborn flames one by one.
Nearby, Zoey helped Gauri into the truck.
She sat her down carefully and began checking the wound, hands steady despite the exhaustion written all over her face.
Gauri leaned back against the metal wall and exhaled slowly.
Then, with a crooked smile, she looked at Amitesh.
"Hey," she said lightly, "if I die… I'm haunting you."
Amitesh blinked.
Then smirked.
"My, my," he replied. "You care so much about me that you won't leave even after death? I'm flattered."
Silence.
For exactly two seconds.
"Shut up," Gauri snapped. "You smooth talker."
Zoey snorted despite herself.
Amitesh chuckled and turned away, joining Mahaveer. He raised his hand, forming dense water spheres that drifted forward and collapsed over the remaining embers, steam rising as fire finally surrendered.
That was when he noticed it.
Something inside a half-melted tire.
Black.
Too still.
Amitesh narrowed his eyes.
Yes… yes, a thought whispered inside him.
So here you are. Hiding.
He stepped closer.
It was a mushroom.
Completely black. No glow. No movement. Like a shadow pretending to be matter.
Amitesh crouched.
"All devour," he whispered.
The world seemed to pause.
With a single motion, he swallowed it whole.
No resistance.
No struggle.
Just warmth spreading through his chest.
A familiar voice echoed softly in his mind.
Raktbeej:
"That," it murmured, almost pleased,
"is something you should feast on."
Amitesh straightened slowly.
Behind him, the fires finally died.
Ahead of him—
Something ancient had just chosen to live on.
And this time…
It lived inside him.
Amitesh felt it first—not as pain, not as pleasure, but as pressure.
A foreign authority surged through his veins, heavy and ancient, like a crown being lowered onto his soul.
The world blinked.
When his vision cleared, he was no longer standing where he had been.
He stood within Raktbeej's domain.
The ground beneath him was not earth, nor stone. It was a vast expanse of piled flesh—layer upon layer—silent, motionless, as if waiting. Then, without warning, the mass shifted.
Not suddenly.
Not violently.
But inevitably.
The heaps of meat began to crawl over one another, folding, stacking, compressing. What had once been a formless mountain slowly restructured itself, as though obeying an invisible will. The shape sharpened. Lines appeared. Steps formed.
A throne emerged.
A royal throne—vast, domineering—crafted entirely from living flesh. It radiated authority, not through decoration, but through existence itself.
Before Amitesh could steady his breath, a figure manifested before the throne.
Its back faced him.
The body was crimson, stripped of any pretense of humanity. No skin softened its outline—only raw form, sculpted muscle and sinew, constantly shifting, as though refusing to settle into one shape. It sat upon the throne with ease, like a ruler returning home.
Then—
The figure raised its head.
And slowly, it turned.
Amitesh's thoughts froze.
The face was wrong.
It still held the vague structure of a human face—eyes, nose, mouth—but only as a mockery. The flesh clung unnaturally tight, revealing the suggestion of a skull beneath, as if death itself was pressing outward, eager to be seen. Its grin stretched too wide, teeth aligned in a rigid, skeletal smile that did not belong to the living.
The eyes were the worst part.
Not empty.
Not blind.
They were aware.
They stared at Amitesh with calm amusement, like a predator observing something that had already been claimed. The expression did not snarl or rage—it judged. As if measuring his worth, his usefulness, his eventual fate.
This was no demon.
Demons raged.
Demons screamed.
This existence reigned.
Amitesh understood then.
Raktbeej did not wear a human face because it once was human.
It wore it because it found the idea entertaining.
And in that throne of flesh, beneath that skull-like grin, sat a being that did not need to announce its power—
The domain itself already bowed.
Raktbeej:
"Hahaha… so this is what weight feels like."
He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to his own pulse for the first time.
"A body. A boundary. A lie called form."
His eyes settled on Amitesh—not with hunger, but with disinterest, the way one looks at a tool already understood.
"For so long, I existed as intent. As hunger without a mouth. As will without resistance."
A pause.
"And now… I exist."
He flexed his fingers slowly. The domain answered him.
"You think you summoned me."
A thin smile spread across that skull-like face.
"No. You merely proved yourself hollow enough for me to stand upright."
He leaned forward on the throne.
"Tell me, Amitesh—do you know why humans fear monsters?"
Without waiting:
"Because monsters do not pretend to be good."
His gaze sharpened.
"You still believe strength needs justification. Morality. Purpose."
A quiet laugh escaped him, dry and amused.
"How exhausting."
He straightened, voice dropping into something heavier.
"I did not take this body to live."
"I took it to remain."
Then, softly—almost kindly:
"And you?"
"You will remain too."
A beat.
"Inside me."
Amitesh let out a short, humorless breath.
Amitesh:
"You are foolish."
For the first time, the domain trembled—not in anger, but in surprise.
Raktbeej:
"…What?"
Amitesh looked around at the throne, the flesh, the oppressive authority—and sneered.
Amitesh:
"You talk about height and might as if you're standing above me.
But you exist inside my body."
He took a step forward.
"This domain of yours? Nothing more than just an illusion you built to comfort yourself. A stage for your ego."
His eyes hardened.
"To me, it's just a stupid place—that is unfit for living."
A pause.
"Because outside this illusion…"
"…you're still just a pile of meat."
Silence fell.
Then—
Raktbeej laughed.
Not loudly.
Not angrily.
He laughed the way an adult laughs when a child accidentally says something profound.
Raktbeej:
"Good."
The word echoed.
"Very good."
He rose from the throne—not fully, just enough to cast a shadow that swallowed Amitesh's feet.
"You see flesh and call it weakness."
"You see blood and call it filth."
"You see a parasite and assume it begs for permission."
His gaze sharpened.
"That is why you are human."
He spread his hand, and the domain responded, not violently—obediently.
"My Path is not blood."
"It is continuity."
"My Path is not flesh."
"It is replacement."
"My Path is not identity."
"It is appropriation."
He leaned closer, voice lowering.
"Blood remembers. Flesh adapts. Identity is stolen."
A thin smile.
"I do not conquer worlds."
"I outlast hosts."
He tapped his chest—Amitesh's chest.
"I do not need to rule you."
"I only need you to live."
A pause. Then, softly:
"You believe I exist inside you."
"That belief is comforting, isn't it?"
His eyes gleamed.
"But tell me—when a parasite grows long enough…
does the host still get to decide which body is his?"
The domain grew quiet.
"Mock me again," Raktbeej said gently.
"It makes the moment you realize the truth far sweeter."
Amitesh clenched his jaw.
Amitesh:
"Do you really think I'm foolish enough to accept that?"
For a moment, Raktbeej only watched him.
Then he smiled.
Not mockingly.
Not cruelly.
Patiently.
Raktbeej:
"You are not foolish."
He stepped down from the throne. The distance between them vanished—not physically, but conceptually, as if Amitesh had always been within arm's reach.
"You are helpless."
Amitesh's breath hitched.
Raktbeej raised one finger.
"Choice one."
"You resist me. You reject me. You curse me as a parasite."
The domain dimmed slightly.
"You continue to live as you are—fragile, temporary, constantly running from extinction."
A pause.
"I grow anyway."
He raised a second finger.
"Choice two."
"You accept me. You call it cooperation. Symbiosis. Power."
A thin laugh.
"You gain strength, authority, survival."
"And I grow anyway."
He lowered his hand.
"Do you see it now?"
His voice dropped, calm and absolute.
"You are not choosing whether I exist."
"You are choosing how much of yourself you get to watch disappear."
Raktbeej leaned close, until Amitesh could feel that presence pressing against his thoughts.
"You think defiance makes you free."
"It only makes you slow."
Then, softly—almost mercifully:
"Resist, and you will fade without understanding."
"Accept, and you will fade with clarity."
He straightened.
"That is the only difference I offer."
A pause.
"Oh—and one more thing."
His eyes locked onto Amitesh's.
"Even now… your body is already learning my shape."
Silence swallowed the domain.
"So go on," Raktbeej said gently.
"Choose."
Amitesh exhaled slowly.
Then—he smiled.
Not in fear.
Not in rage.
In confidence.
Amitesh:
"You said you need me alive."
Raktbeej didn't interrupt.
"You said you grow anyway."
Amitesh lifted his head.
"That means your growth is passive. Dependent."
He took a step back, as if stepping out of the shadow.
"So here's my choice."
"I won't accept you."
"I won't resist you."
Silence.
"I'll stagnate."
His eyes sharpened.
"I'll stop moving forward. No ambition. No risks. No growth."
"If you feed on continuity—on replacement—then I'll deny you progression."
A thin breath.
"I'll rot slowly, consciously."
"And you'll rot with me."
For the first time—
Raktbeej blinked.
Then he laughed.
This time, the domain did not echo.
It listened.
Raktbeej:
"…Ah."
"…Excellent."
He clapped once.
The sound echoed far too long.
"You have understood something most never do."
He nodded, genuinely impressed.
"A starvation strategy."
He stepped closer, admiration almost sincere.
"You truly are clever."
Amitesh's smile widened.
Raktbeej's tone softened.
"And completely mistaken."
Raktbeej tapped his temple.
"You think intention feeds me."
"No."
He tapped Amitesh's chest.
"Time does."
The domain shifted—not violently, but naturally, like a body adjusting posture.
"You will breathe."
"You will eat."
"You will age."
A pause.
"And with every heartbeat, your cells will divide."
His smile thinned.
"And every division is a copy."
Amitesh's stomach dropped.
"I do not need you to act," Raktbeej said softly.
"I replicate in the background."
The throne behind him collapsed inward, reforming—not as a seat, but as a mirror.
Raktbeej gestured toward it.
"Look."
Amitesh hesitated—
Then saw himself.
Standing. Breathing. Thinking.
Raktbeej spoke quietly.
"You assume I feed on your actions."
"You assume stagnation denies me."
He leaned in.
"But my Path does not consume movement."
His voice dropped.
"It consumes existence."
The mirror rippled.
"Every second you remain alive—"
"Every thought you suppress—"
"Every fear you choose over death—"
A pause.
"—is nourishment."
Raktbeej's eyes gleamed.
"You cannot freeze a process that defines itself by remaining."
He straightened.
"Rot is still continuity."
"Refusal is still identity."
"Even despair is a shape."
Then, gently—almost kindly:
"You tried to starve a parasite."
A beat.
"But you forgot something."
His smile returned.
"Parasites evolved because hosts try that first."
The mirror shattered.
Amitesh staggered—not from pain, but from realization.
Raktbeej's final words landed softly.
"You are not trapped because you move."
"You are trapped because you exist."
Silence.
Amitesh hesitated.
For the first time since entering the domain, his defiance cracked—not shattered, just… bent.
Amitesh:
"…Alright."
The word tasted bitter.
"I accept this second deal."
A pause.
"But you promise me one thing."
Raktbeej's expression did not change.
"You will not hurt anyone else—
other than your own kind."
Silence stretched.
Then Raktbeej smiled.
Raktbeej:
"I will not make a move… until you feed me."
A thin pause followed, deliberate.
"But I cannot say the same for that girl."
Amitesh's hands clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms.
Amitesh:
"…Why is she so appetizing to you?"
Raktbeej tilted his head, as if the answer were obvious.
Raktbeej:
"Don't you know?"
"I grow strong by consuming strong things."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"And she…"
"…is the strongest."
The words settled like poison.
"If you wish to save her from me,"
Raktbeej continued calmly,
"then feed me something of equal worth."
Amitesh swallowed.
Amitesh:
"Where am I supposed to find something like that?
A mushroom-head at her level doesn't just exist."
Raktbeej leaned back onto his throne of flesh.
Raktbeej:
"Oh, it exists."
A pause.
"I will tell you… when I sense it."
Then, dismissively:
"Now get lost."
The domain collapsed inward.
Amitesh snapped back into reality.
His eyes flew open.
"—!"
Gauri:
"You're awake."
His vision steadied.
The truck was still moving forward, engine humming steadily. The road ahead stretched endlessly. Zoey sat at the wheel, eyes flicking toward him through the rearview mirror.
Mahaveer was sprawled in his seat, fast asleep—snoring softly, the faint smell of alcohol lingering.
Gauri sat nearby, quiet, watching him with concern.
Zoey:
"You passed out."
She sighed.
"I really wish you knew how to drive."
"That old man's sleeping like he owns the road."
Amitesh said nothing.
But as he stared ahead, listening to the engine, the breathing, the ordinary sounds of life—
He realized something terrifying.
Raktbeej had not followed him out.
It had never left.
And somewhere, deep within him—
Something was already waiting to be fed.
Amitesh broke the silence.
Amitesh:
"Where are we going?"
Gauri look at him like it's a stupid question then answered without hesitation.
Gauri:
"To the rescue camp, of course."
Zoey let out a tired breath, her hands tight on the steering wheel.
Zoey:
"Yeah… but it'll take longer."
"I'm exhausted."
The truck rumbled forward for a few more moments—
Then abruptly shuddered.
And stopped.
Amitesh:
"What happened?"
Zoey leaned back, rubbing her eyes.
Zoey:
"Engine's overheating."
"And I'm hungry. And tired."
She glanced around the empty road.
"We'll rest here for the night."
"You go find something to eat."
"This truck's stocked with nothing but alcohol."
Amitesh nodded.
Amitesh:
"Alright."
He pushed the door open and stepped out.
The night air wrapped around him—cool, quiet, indifferent.
I hope I find something, he thought.
As he walked away from the truck, the sound of the engine faded, replaced by the soft crunch of his footsteps and the distant hum of the world continuing without him.
His mind began to flood.
What if none of this had happened?
What if there were no domains, no voices, no hunger wearing the shape of thought?
He imagined it—
A simpler life.
Ordinary fears.
Ordinary choices.
A future that did not feel borrowed.
But the thought collapsed almost as soon as it formed.
Reality had no intention of stepping aside for daydreams.
It never did.
Amitesh slowed, then stopped.
The darkness ahead felt deeper than it should have been.
Amitesh (quietly):
"…What should I do?"
The question vanished into the night.
And somewhere, deep within him, something listened—
patiently.
Amitesh moved deeper into the darkness, guided more by instinct than direction. The road behind him faded, swallowed by the night, and soon the only sound left was his own breathing.
Hunger clawed at his stomach—slow, persistent, impossible to ignore.
He scanned the area carefully. Burnt trees stood like blackened skeletons, their branches twisted toward the sky. Whatever had passed through this place hadn't bothered to leave mercy behind.
Then—
A smell.
Faint, but unmistakable.
Food.
Amitesh paused, narrowing his eyes.
He followed it cautiously, every step deliberate, ready to retreat at the slightest sign of danger. The scent led him toward a collapsed roadside stall, half-buried under debris and ash.
Most of it was destroyed.
But not all.
He pushed aside a fallen sheet of metal and froze.
Cans.
Several of them—dented, dusty, but sealed.
A slow breath escaped him, something close to relief. He picked one up, wiped the grime away, and read the faded label. Beans. Old, but edible.
"Good enough," he murmured.
Digging a little more, he found a packet of dry biscuits and a bottle of water hidden beneath a broken crate, as if someone long ago had tried—and failed—to save them.
Amitesh sat down against a fallen pillar and opened the can using a jagged piece of metal. The sound echoed too loudly in the quiet night, but nothing came.
No movement.
No attack.
He ate slowly, savoring every bite despite the bland taste. Warmth spread through his body—not comfort, but strength. Enough to keep going.
As he finished, he looked up at the dark sky.
"So… I survive another night," he said softly.
The world didn't respond.
But somewhere far away, something watched.
And this time, Amitesh didn't know it yet.
***
The truck sat motionless on the empty road, its engine ticking softly as it cooled, the sound unnervingly loud in the still night.
Zoey leaned back in the driver's seat, eyes half-closed, but sleep refused to come. Fatigue weighed on her limbs, yet her instincts kept her alert. Nights like this were never kind.
She reached for a rum bottle, then stopped midway.
"…Bad idea," she muttered, pushing it away.
Across from her, Gauri sat on the edge of the cargo bed, quietly tightening the bandage around her arm. The blood had dried, but the ache remained—a dull reminder that she wasn't at full strength.
"You think he'll find something?" Zoey asked without looking at her.
Gauri tied the knot and exhaled. "He will. People like him always do."
Zoey raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound reassuring."
Gauri didn't smile. Instead, she looked out into the darkness where Amitesh had disappeared, her gaze sharp, almost uneasy.
"This place isn't empty," she said after a moment. "It only pretends to be."
The wind shifted.
Something scraped lightly against the side of the truck.
Zoey straightened instantly, hand moving to the weapon near her seat.
"Did you hear that?"
"Yes," Gauri replied, already on her feet.
Another sound followed—slow, deliberate. Footsteps. Not hurried. Not careless.
Too calm.
Zoey killed the remaining lights, plunging the truck into shadow. "If it's a scavenger, it'll leave."
"And if it's not?" Zoey asked.
Gauri's eyes glowed faintly as energy stirred beneath her skin. "Then we make sure Amitesh doesn't come back to an empty truck."
The footsteps stopped.
Right beside them.
And somewhere in the distance, far beyond the road, Amitesh swallowed his last bite—unaware that the night had begun to close in.
***
After finishing his meal, Amitesh rose to his feet.
He pushed aside the remaining debris, metal scraping softly against stone.
Something pale caught his eye.
A skeleton.
It lay half-buried beneath the rubble, a torn bag still strapped to its back, as if the person had collapsed mid-journey and never risen again.
Amitesh stared at it for a long moment.
"…So it was you," he murmured.
He carefully lifted the bag from the skeleton's shoulders. It was light now—emptied by time, by hunger, by him.
"I should thank you."
Gently, he moved the skeleton onto open ground, put sticks around it arranging it with an unexpected care. Then he stepped back, joined his hands, and bowed his head.
"I pray that God gives your soul a place in heaven," Amitesh said quietly, his voice steady.
"You fed someone… even after your death."
He paused.
"Swaha."
Flames rose soon after, small at first, then steady—warm light pushing back the darkness for a brief moment.
Amitesh didn't watch for long. Some things deserved privacy, even in death.
When the fire settled into embers, he turned away.
The night closed around him once more.
Pulling the bag over his shoulder, Amitesh began walking back toward the truck—unaware that every step he took was carrying him closer to something waiting on the road ahead.
Amitesh had barely taken a few steps when—
Crunch.
He froze.
The sound wasn't behind him.
It came from the direction of the truck.
His hand tightened around the strap of the bag. Another sound followed—metal scraping, then a muffled impact.
"Damn it…" he whispered.
Without wasting another second, Amitesh broke into a run.
Near the truck, the night had finally shown its teeth.
A distorted shape lurched out of the darkness—its body vaguely human, its head swollen and pale, like a mass of living fungus. Its eyes were empty white, unblinking.
"Mushroom head," Zoey spat.
Before the creature could take another step, Mahaveer charged forward, swinging a metal rod with all his strength.
Crack.
The rod smashed into the creature's neck, but instead of blood, a burst of gray spores exploded into the air.
"Don't breathe that!" Gauri shouted.
She moved instantly.
Energy surged through her body as she stepped in, palm glowing faintly. One clean strike landed on the creature's chest. The force sent it flying backward, its body collapsing unnaturally against the road.
But it wasn't alone.
Two more emerged.
Then three.
"They're coming from both sides!" Zoey yelled, firing a flare toward the darkness. The brief light revealed several figures stumbling forward, their movements slow—but relentless.
Mahaveer coughed, waving the spores away. "They don't feel pain!"
"Then don't aim for pain," Gauri replied coldly. "Aim for control."
She stomped the ground.
The earth trembled slightly, cracking beneath one of the mushroom heads. It lost balance for a fraction of a second.
That was enough.
Mahaveer tackled it, forcing it down while Zoey slammed the truck door shut on its arm. The limb snapped off with a sickening sound and twitched on the ground.
Suddenly—
"Amitesh!" Gauri shouted.
He burst out of the darkness just as another mushroom head lunged toward Zoey from behind.
Without thinking, Amitesh grabbed a burning branch he'd carried from the funeral fire and swung.
The flame touched the creature's head.
It screamed—not in pain, but in panic.
The fungus shriveled instantly, collapsing into ash.
For a heartbeat, everything went silent.
Zoey stared at the remains. "…Fire. They're weak to fire."
Amitesh didn't relax. His eyes were still scanning the darkness.
"This wasn't a random attack," he said. "Something pushed them here."
From far down the road, more shadows began to move.
And this time—
They were faster.
Raktbeej:- I am the reason behind their arrival