Nayona sat in his cold, obsidian-walled office in the Interrogation Division, ostensibly reviewing dry reports detailing the lineage weaknesses of the Kamo clan's secondary branches, but his true focus was deeply inward.
The material world of the Zenin clan the heavy scent of fear, the subtle, rhythmic thrum of distant, aggressive training, the pervasive humidity of the earth was a thick, oppressive shawl of concentrated greed, violence, and clinging tṛṣṇā that constantly demanded rigorous spiritual detachment to resist contamination.
The recent, taxing act of protecting the attendant Kenji with the subtle Karuṇā Cloak had been a profound success in maintaining his moral integrity, but such an act of filtering Cursed Intent drained his system deeply, forcing his consciousness to withdraw further into itself to replenish his unique, neutral Cursed Energy reserves.
As he closed his eyes, centering on the Right View necessary for his perilous survival the clear understanding of reality free from delusion the sensory assault of the Zenin clan dissipated entirely. He was no longer in the dungeon; he was elsewhere, in another life, a memory so clear, so vividly textured, that it felt more tangible and real than the stone pressing against his back.
The memory was of a small, quiet hermitage perched high in the snow-dusted mountains of a distant age. The air was thin, pure, and infused with the scent of pine and silence, a spiritual balm.
Nayona was Bhikkhu Ratna, an aging monk whose face was lined by decades of rigorous meditation, not stress or worry, but the patient mapping of inner realms. His eyes held the serene, luminous depth of one who had seen the cosmic truth of suffering and its end.
His robes were simple saffron, meticulously patched from years of respectful wear, and his only possessions were his begging bowl and his devotion. He was revered by the scattered villages below not for wealth or political power, but for the profound, unshakable peace that followed him like a protective aura.
Ratna was on the absolute, final verge of Nirvana, having spent decades mastering the subtle pathways of consciousness, aligning his being with the Eightfold Path .
Through this mastery, he had attained a pool of Cursed Energy which he termed Spiritual Potential that was virtually boundless and perfectly, beautifully neutral. His spiritual vessel was cleansed, purified, and ready to step off the wheel.
Ratna's spiritual discipline and Vow were tested by the relentless, banal cruelty of man. His hermitage overlooked the only viable trade route through the unforgiving mountain pass.
For years, a particularly brutal bandit leader, known only as "The Viper," had used this route as his hunting ground. The Viper was not a sorcerer, but his maliciousness, his sheer, concentrated desire to inflict suffering, was so potent that he inadvertently generated powerful, minor curses spirits of poverty, fear, and hopelessness that clung to his victims long after he had robbed and left.
He inflicted immense, pervasive dukkha (suffering) not just physical harm and the loss of life savings, but the destruction of livelihoods, the shattering of familial bonds, and the poisoning of trust within the entire community, ensuring the suffering would echo for generations. He was a systematic, persistent engine of localized suffering, embodying the worst kind of selfish craving.
Ratna faced the ultimate, crushing moral dilemma of the Bodhisattva Vow: Ahimsā (absolute non-violence and refraining from harming any sentient being, even spiritually) versus Karuṇā (active, interventionist compassion and the imperative to alleviate all observed suffering).
His personal path required Ahimsā, but his commitment to humanity demanded Karuṇā.
He could achieve Nirvana now. He could dissolve his identity, leave the cycle of suffering entirely, and secure his own eternal peace and enlightenment, a state earned through immense discipline.
But to do so would mean consciously abandoning the thousands of current lives under the Viper's threat, allowing their collective dukkha to multiply endlessly, feeding the Cursed Spirits and perpetuating the painful cycle of fear and poverty. He saw this inaction as spiritual negligence.
Conversely, Ratna possessed the spiritual potential to stop the Viper permanently without touching his body. Through a profound application of his mastery over neutral spiritual energy, he could instantly dissolve the Viper's tṛṣṇā not merely the bandit's physical body, but the core psychic craving for cruelty that fueled his existence. This action, an act of spiritual surgery, would prevent countless generations of future suffering caused by the Viper's actions and the curses he generated.
However, such an absolute, forced intervention was, in itself, the deepest form of spiritual violence.
To deliberately alter the fate of another sentient being, to forcibly dissolve their spiritual trajectory or inflict an irreversible change in their path, was a violation of free will and the natural flow of karma the cosmic law of cause and effect.
It risked accumulating a terrifying, mountainous karmic debt that could shatter his own path to enlightenment for lifetimes, potentially dragging him back to the lowest realms. It was, in essence, a form of spiritual murder committed for the sake of the greater good a necessary evil that would irreparably soil his purity. The weight of this choice was the heaviest burden he had ever faced.
Ratna spent three full days and nights in deep, agonizing meditation, fasting and wrestling with the moral weight of the decision beneath the icy peaks.
The decision was not about convenience, but about which form of compassion was purer. He realized that the greater sin, the greater betrayal of Karuṇā, was inaction in the face of absolute, concentrated suffering that he had the power to stop.
The Zenin clan, glimpsed faintly through a future spiritual current, would be a systematic, institutionalized form of the Viper's cruelty, a massive engine of dukkha that preyed on the weak with terrifying efficiency. He could not, and would not, simply watch the cycle continue for the sake of his own peace.
He emerged from his profound meditation with the resolution that would define his next life and, indeed, spontaneously create his Cursed Technique. He would not violate Ahimsā by killing or forcibly dissolving the Viper's spirit into chaos.
Instead, he made the ultimate sacrifice, an act of supreme Karuṇā: He would willingly take the Viper's heavy karmic debt and the spiritual burden of his suffering victims onto himself, binding his own soul to the cycle he was about to leave.
Ratna made a final, powerful, and deeply personal vow: He would reject Nirvana the cessation of all suffering until the suffering caused by the Viper, and all future "Vipers" (all concentrated sources of malicious tṛṣṇā), was not only ceased but fully understood, spiritually addressed, and given the opportunity for genuine, enlightened release.
He chose to step back onto the wheel (Saṃsāra) out of pure, active compassion, binding himself to the very cycles he had nearly escaped.
The massive, shattering spiritual force of this vow the commitment to carry the burden of the cycle (Saṃsāra) for the sake of compassion (Karuṇā) was so profound that it instantly restructured his spiritual blueprint, setting the foundation for his entire subsequent existence. This Vow did two things to his soul and energy:
It sealed the Saṃsāra Cycle into his next life. His Cursed Technique was born at that very moment: the ability to force the absolute awareness of suffering and rebirth onto others, allowing the target to choose release, even if that choice was made under duress from the overwhelming truth.
His technique was a permanent, inherited tool of the Vow, bound to the principle of showing the path, not destroying the vessel. The visual representation of this eternal commitment was the Dharma Wheel.
It created the principle of absolute neutrality. His Cursed Energy became perfectly neutral (grey), enabling it to flow through and engage with the spiritual core of any target, regardless of their technique or defense, without conflict.
But this neutrality came with a severe restriction: it could only be used for the purpose of illumination and the dissolution of suffering/craving, not for physical destruction. This is precisely why the pragmatic Zenin clan deemed it useless for conventional combat, securing Nayona's safe, albeit dark, assignment.
The neutrality reflected his commitment to observe and guide, rather than attack.
Ratna chose to die in meditation shortly thereafter, entering Mahaparinirvana only to immediately use the power of his Vow to choose the path of the Bodhisattva, ensuring his rebirth was driven by this singular, powerful, and sacrificial mission.
Nayona snapped back to the cold reality of the Zenin dungeon, the scent of antiseptic jarring his senses. The flashback had lasted only a moment, but the profound weight of his past life's decision settled over him, clarifying his current moral confusion.
His mission was the same: to stop the systemic suffering. The Zenin clan was not just his family; they were the collective Vipers of his new age, and his current role in the interrogation division forced by Maari to exploit tṛṣṇā was the immediate, painful cost of fulfilling his centuries-old vow.
He was forced to become an agent of control, using his spiritual gift for temporary darkness and emotional torture, so that one day he could use it for true light and liberation.
He knew his path was one of deep hypocrisy and profound spiritual risk, but the alternative inaction was unacceptable to the soul that was once Bhikkhu Ratna. He was the keeper of Saṃsāra, and he had difficult work to do.