According to the celestial cycle, night should have blanketed the Ka77 Kingdom.
Instead, the sky burned with the brilliance of high noon.
In distant villages, people looked up in utter bewilderment.
Far off in the heavens, a blinding, star-like orb irradiated the firmament.
Normally, two distinct stars orbited above the Ka77 Kingdom—yet tonight, only one remained visible.
The glowing stellar body hanging in the sky was none other than Pratik.
The sheer volume of energy surging from his body made him resemble a miniature sun.
Even thousands of miles away, villagers could feel the oppressive, sweltering heat radiating from his form.
Near his position, the snow-covered mountain ranges didn't just melt—they evaporated instantly.
The surrounding atmosphere ionized into superheated plasma.
Pratik's output had reached that of a miniature star, his body temperature climbing into the millions of degrees Celsius.
Violent, localized shockwaves tore through what little remained of the landscape.
The mountains beneath him vanished alongside their glaciers, while the sea below violently boiled away.
Thankfully, Yuwah—having barely recovered—used the last of his strength to teleport a nearby town 15,000 miles to safety before the heat could incinerate the population.
This was the day two stars dawned over the Ka77 Kingdom.
Sonic booms thundered across the sky, pulverizing everything in their path.
Mountain dragons perished in the sudden thermal surge, and entire forests ignited in seconds.
Then, something struck Pratik mid-sky.
Mala was back.
[Mala]: That's quite a mess you've made.
She said, her voice remaining unnervingly steady.
Even with her formidable conditioning, she was sweating heavily.
Her knuckles burned from the brief contact she had made with Pratik's plasma aura just moments before.
[Mala]: I guess I have no choice... I have to use it.
Attempting to steady her racing pulse, Mala resolved to take a dangerous gamble—a technique that could cost her everything.
[Mala]: O One-Winged, lend—
Before she could finish the chant, Pratik materialized directly in front of her.
But just as their forces were about to collide, space warped.
Mala vanished, teleported far away—saved by a hair's breadth.
Pratik's fist struck nothing but empty air.
The one who had intercepted the blow stepped forward, completely unfazed by the million-degree heat.
Crocus had arrived.
Grabbing Pratik by the collar, Crocus launched him through the atmosphere, hurtling him toward a revolving moon orbiting high above the Ka77 Kingdom.
Pratik crashed onto the lunar surface and rose to his feet, the surrounding regolith instantly melting into molten glass beneath his aura.
[Crocus]: Looks like you're ready for another round.
The malicious entity piloting Pratik analyzed Crocus, immediately recognizing him as a threat far eclipsing its own power.
Without a moment's hesitation, Pratik lunged.
FLASH.
Pratik's right arm was gone.
[Crocus]: Slow.
Utilizing the properties of his superheated plasma, Pratik instantly regenerated his missing limb.
But as he closed the distance again, his body was sliced into several pieces before he could strike.
[Crocus]: Is that all you've got?
Reassembling his body once more, Pratik wove a series of intricate, frantic hand signs.
Crocus remained motionless, watching with cool indifference.
Divya Dru.
Haidoro's ultimate technique—a spatial slash capable of severing fundamental concepts and bisecting an entire moon.
The dimensional blade cut cleanly through Crocus's spatial barrier... yet Crocus stood entirely unharmed on the other side.
[Crocus]: Haidoro did it better.
The entity inside Pratik froze.
The absolute apex of Haidoro's arsenal had landed directly on Crocus—and failed to leave even a scratch.
The malice within Pratik realized the terrifying reality: Crocus possessed power that scaled far beyond Haidoro or Sonavarnah.
He was in an entirely different league.
Before Pratik could process the gap between them, Crocus appeared right before his eyes.
A single punch connected.
The impact drove Pratik back into the moon's surface with such catastrophic force that a massive portion of the lunar crust shattered.
Trillions of tons of rock and debris were launched into space.
[Crocus]: My hopes were high thinking we'd have a real fight. It seems you've lost your mind to some petty spirit.
Grabbing Pratik with his bare hands, Crocus smashed Pratik's face directly into his knee, splitting the demonic helmet open.
The plasma armor regenerated the fractured face instantly, but Crocus didn't even blink.
[Crocus]: You wanted to protect people, didn't you? What happened to those noble ideals?
Coating his fists in condensed Dark Energy, Crocus unleashed a point-blank blast that sent Pratik hurtling across the cratered wasteland.
That's right...!
A voice screamed from deep within the abyss.
The real Pratik.
The malice driving his body could emulate raw power, but it could never replicate the true heart and resolve of Pratik himself.
The black armor cracked and shattered into dust.
The real Pratik was back.
As his consciousness took control, he immediately deactivated Trigger 4: Plasma.
In just a few brief exchanges, the moon beneath them had been reduced to floating rubble.
[Crocus]: So, you're back?
Pratik turned to face Crocus, a wave of bittersweet nostalgia and terror washing over him.
[Pratik]: What... what are you doing here?
Pratik asked, his voice trembling.
Crocus was the very first enemy who had ever forced Pratik to break past his limits.
And now, he had returned.
To be continued...