Outside the Dark Dimension, Lekhaam was deep in meditation. This was perhaps his final attempt to either pull Virat out or draw himself into that dark world.
Inside the dimension, Virat lay sprawled in the mud below, his body covered in gashes and bruises. Above him, Kakraj reigned as the King of the Sky.
Kakraj's voice boomed: "You gave it your all, but you have finally reached the limit of your mortal body."
Lying there, Virat listened. His mind drifted into a dream, replaying his childhood: seeing his mother nurse him, playing with his father, and laughing with his friends.
Suddenly, he remembered what his father had told him just before he went to war.
His father had said.
"On the battlefield, when your body is broken and your blood is soaked into the ground, that is when the mind cries out for surrender."
"It feels good to think of giving up, but you must master your mind. Do not let your mind control you; you must control it."
"To master the mind, you must have complete control over your senses."
"And how do I do that?" Virat had asked.
"Through practice," his father replied. "Whenever your mind tells you to surrender, think of the consequences if you quit. If those consequences are dire, then get up and fight."
"What if I fall again?"
"Then rise again, and fight again. Do this again and again until either your own desire to quit is surrenders to you, or your opponent does. When you do this repeatedly, whatever your destiny may be, victory will always be yours."
Virat! Virat!"
Suddenly, a voice echoed inside Virat's head. It was Lekhaam, speaking to him from the outside world.
"Virat, get up! I am talking to you through magic. You must rise; together, we will kill this bird!"
Virat slowly opened his eyes and moved his fingers. He took a single deep breath that stirred the mud around him. Pushing himself to his feet, he declared, "Let's see how much power I really have!"
His body began to glow with Lekhaam's magic. He gripped the dagger tightly in his hand and leaped toward the sky. He moved with the same blinding speed as Kakraj now, a fierce light shining in his eyes, and a slight smile playing on his lips.
The dagger began to shine brightly in his hand, as if drawing its power directly from Virat. With a lightning-fast motion, Virat unleashed a powerful slash—a sharp blade of energy that tore through the surrounding atmosphere and struck Kakraj.
The monster who moments ago had seemed invincible suffered a massive wound. Thick, black blood began to pour from the gash.
Kakraj cried out in pain: "Where did this power come from?
Kakraj had barely recovered from Virat's previous assault when Virat launched yet another attack.
However, Kakraj retaliated with his Dark Stare. This counter-attack unleashed a black crimson wind current so potent that it not only completely nullified the dagger's strike, but its tremendous power slammed Virat forcefully onto the ground. The surrounding mud and muck were violently flung into the air, raining down like a torrent of dirt. Even the crows feeding on the corpses were startled and flew away from the sheer force of the blow.
The instant Virat hit the ground, he sprung back up, as if telling himself: "This is no time to fall."
A voice echoed in his mind, "Forgive me, Virat. I cannot help you further than this. My magic is limited in the Dark Dimension."
"It's alright, Master," Virat muttered. "You have already done so much. Now, I must finish this myself."
Noting Kakraj's uninterrupted assault, Virat concluded, Kakraj's wound still hadn't healed, meaning the dagger must have done its work."
The dagger's glow had dimmed slightly, but Virat was already poised for his next move.
The recent blow had taken its toll:
His leg was trembling.
There was a wound on his stomach.
His eyes were heavy with exhaustion.
His throat was parched, and his lips were turning black.
The air was thick with the smell of blood from his body.
But...
Gathering his remaining strength, Virat steadied himself, and, like a true warrior, he leapt back up into the sky for the final confrontation.
"Virat's subsequent attack was a direct hit, smashing straight into the demon's head.
Yet, the force of his blow was significantly weakened.
The dagger had failed him.
Its searing flames had died down, and its fierce glow was completely extinguished.
Without the dagger's strength, slaying a monster like Kakraj would be impossible. Virat was left reeling, not only wondering how the dagger had lost its power, but more importantly, how it had gained that incandescent glow and strength in the first place."
Kakraj lashed out with his enormous tail, striking Virat. It was a devastating blow—as if an elephant had swiped its tail at an ant.
Virat was thrown violently to the ground. The impact was so massive that the mud-soaked earth around him was completely pulverized, leaving him lying in the clean red soil beneath.
Warm blood streamed from everywhere: his forehead, his legs, his throat, his navel, and his eyes.
Struggling to rise, his eyes desperately searched for the lost dagger. It lay only a short distance away. He began to crawl toward it, but before he could reach it, a Crow swooped down, pecking at Virat, and tried to lift the dagger. The Crow attempted to grasp it, but found it could not even touch the weapon.
Seeing this, Virat renewed his effort, finally reaching and seizing the dagger. He tried to stand, but there was no strength left in his body; he could not even lift himself.
By now, Lekhaam's voice had gone completely silent, a clear sign that the limit of his magic was exhausted. Virat would receive no more external assistance.
Kakraj laughed. With a deep, terrifying voice, he bellowed, 'You spoke such big words, yet in the end, you are nothing but a human. And a human never stands by his vows.
That is why today, you lie upon the ground, while I stand at the height of the sky!'
Virat was consumed by rage—not at Kakraj, but at himself, for being so weak as to be felled by a single blow. But he had not lost hope. The dagger was still in his hand."
Then Kakraj sneered, 'Give up now!'
'Shut up, you windbag,' Virat muttered in a weak, strained voice that was barely audible to Kakraj.
He desperately tried to use the dagger as a crutch, planting it straight into the ground in an effort to push himself up. But his strength failed him completely, and he collapsed once more.
Kakraj laughed, a sound like grinding stone. 'This weak human still defies me! He must be eliminated.'
With that declaration, he opened his massive jaws. A large, dark, purple sphere of energy began to coalesce around his mouth, growing steadily larger. First, it expanded to the size of Kakraj's head, then to the size of his entire body. The sphere swelled and swelled until it was so immense that it completely blotted out the moon, looking like a huge, black meteorite suspended in the air."
All the while, Virat kept struggling, fighting to find the strength to stand."
He desperately wanted to stand, but the lack of strength was absolute. He tried again, staring at the horrifying sphere that swelled moment by moment.
His eyes held fear, but it wasn't the fear of death, nor was it the fear of Kakraj. It was the fear of annihilation—the destruction of this world.
This primal fear granted Virat the will to rise, but standing remained impossible. His muscles were fractured, causing blood to flow relentlessly, unstaunched because the muscle walls meant to contain it were shattered.
Yet, something propelled him. Something refused to let Virat fall.
He made the attempt, and in that effort, he rose to his feet.
His body was utterly saturated with blood, like clothes soaked in rain. But as he stood, a single drop of blood tracked from his neck, sliding down his his shoulder, then along his elbow, until it finally struck the dagger in his hand.
The moment it touched the blade, the dagger blazed with light! Then, slowly, the glow spread to his entire body, bathing him in soft red and sky-blue light. This radiance began to heal his wounds, and in the blink of an eye, all his injuries vanished.
Kakraj caught a glimpse, understanding instantly that something was amiss—something incomplete, yet clearly destined to become the answer to all questions.
He didn't hesitate. He unleashed his attack: Shadow Moon!
The destructive sphere descended rapidly. But the weapon was no longer just in Virat's hand; he himself had become the armament. His eyes, now devoid of fear, blazed with unyielding passion.
With a divine fire in his gaze, he pulled back his right arm, the dagger poised, and roared,
'SURYA BURST!'
A blinding slash followed—the greatest strike ever witnessed. When Virat's attack met Kakraj's, the resulting explosion was cataclysmic. Many blasts had rocked this fight, but this was the grandest of them all. Perhaps it was as immense as the beginning of time itself, or merely large enough to strip this dimension of its very form.
Virat's blow tore through the sphere, striking Kakraj directly, and the entire Dark Dimension shattered in the ensuing explosion. The darkness was completely swallowed by the brightness of the dagger.
When the scene cleared, Virat stood alone. His clothes were shredded, yet his form shone brilliantly.
He was outside of the dark dimension.
Lekhaam, who was observing from afar, saw an invisible aura surrounding Virat's body and was astonished.
"He realized, 'He is far stronger than I anticipated.'"
They were just talking when, suddenly, from the shadow of a rock, stepped out Kakraj.
"Well, well, well," he drawled. "Isn't this 'pure love' thing just wonderful?"
Virat and Lekhaam were stunned to see him. How was he still alive after that attack?
"Have you forgotten that I am invincible?" he yelled, his voice ringing with power. "I can be cut, broken, bought, or burned, but I cannot be killed! I am the immortal one!"
Then, a look of deep disappointment crossed his face. He let out a sigh of frustration, slumped his shoulders, and murmured, "Now, I must leave. I have already wasted too much time. He probably won't spare me now." Self-reproach was evident in his tone.
Lekhaam and Virat watched as he vanished into thin air. Virat's face was pale; he finally managed to ask, "How... how is this even possible?"
Kakraj now stood on a massive bridge. Above the bridge was the sky, but below, the sky was also visible. The bridge ascended steeply and stretched far into the distance, ending at a gigantic, sprawling fortress that seemed to reach the highest heavens.
He walked forward along the bridge. A white crow flew down and perched on his shoulder.
"You didn't miss me, did you, my friend?" Kakraj said, stroking the bird gently.
The palace's entrance was marked by a colossal gate that opened automatically as Kakraj's footsteps drew near. Beyond the gate was a vast, desolate throne, flanked by two guards. One wore golden armor and the other silver armor. Both wore white feathers on their helmets. They stood in a posture of watchful rest, holding swords.
When Kakraj arrived, he spoke in a jocular manner, "So, friends, is the food and water situation good?"
They gave no reply.
"He escaped from my clutches," Kakraj admitted.
The Golden Guard spoke one word: "Kneel!"
As soon as Kakraj heard the command, he dropped to his knees. The power in the guard's voice was greater than Kakraj's entire existence.
"Do you people always have to make me kneel?" Kakraj grumbled.
The Silver Guard then announced, "For failing to complete the task assigned to you, you are sentenced to 100 days in the Hellfire Pit."
Please,
"I don't want go there!" Kakraj shrieked.
But the ground beneath him opened up, and he fell. He was instantly consumed by the flames arround hum.
Kakraj fell into the swamp of fire.
He struggled to climb out, but the mire held him fast. It refused to let him go. Slowly, steadily, he began to sink deeper into the burning quicksand.
"I won't spare that Virat!" Kakraj's final, defiant cry was swallowed by the burning inferno.
The white crow flew over and settled upon a nearby pillar.
The sound of footsteps echoed, and a figure ascended the steps leading up to the throne. Both guards immediately bowed in salute.
"Rise," commanded the mysterious voice.
The figure then took the throne. He snapped the fingers of his right hand.
The Golden Guard reported: "We have successfully planted the seed of hatred within the Shadow. It will soon show its true form."
"Excellent," replied the voice.
He then snapped the fingers of his left hand. The Silver Guard spoke: "Signs of war are nearing in the Monster World. Their destruction is certain."
"Splendid," the voice said again.
Then the Golden Guard added, "However, My Lord, Kakraj failed. Virat has left his domain."
"But we can send someone else to eliminate him," the Silver Guard quickly suggested.
"Silence!" the voice cut off the guard sharply. "You two must do nothing. He will reach his destiny on his own. Do not fear, he will come to me. I will continue to receive updates on his movements."
The crow saw everything... but did it truly see all that it was meant to see?