Deep in the depths of Ashan's existence, something stirred.
It was not the familiar presence of Greed, which had been with him since the cave, since the serpent had coiled around him and shown him what he was and what he would always be. It was not the echo of the corruption that had surfaced and been suppressed, that would surface again and be suppressed again. It was unknown. New. Foreign.
And with its first flicker, the greed energy exploded into a frenzy.
Dark golden light surged through his being—absorbing prana, devouring atmic, claiming everything in reach. It wrapped around the root chakra like a serpent coiling treasure, fangs bared, daring anything to approach.
Damn. Greed. You're not letting this go easy, are you?
He felt the depletion. Energy draining from his channels, his reserves, the places where the Union pills had filled him and were now being emptied. The lust cycle that he had been trying to establish could not continue—greed would not allow it, would not share, would not be anything but the thing that it had always been.
Then there's only one option.
He reached for the wooden box. Opened it. A gust of fragrance burst forth—herbal, potent, and alive. Nine white pills gleamed in the dim light, each the size of a pea, each pulsing with faint radiance.
[UNION PILL]
Type: Pill
Tier: Rare
Grade: Peak
Effect: Used by Samyama Marga sadhakas. Provides a considerable boost to energy reserves.
Ashan took one. Swallowed.
The moment it touched his tongue, energy erupted—waves crashing through his being, flooding channels, filling reserves. Greed, true to its nature, tried to absorb it all.
Nah, kid.
Ashan directed the flow. Forced it into the lust cycle. The synchronization. The harmonization. The pattern that had been waiting for this moment.
The tug-of-war began.
Faint lust energy—barely existent, a thing that was not quite there and was trying to be—tried to assert itself. Greed fought back, devouring, claiming, denying.
Ashan's body became a battlefield.
Chest heaved—turbulent and uncontrolled. Eyes swirled—grey-white whirlpools spinning at desperate speed. Blood trickled from their corners, tracing crimson paths down his cheeks. Sweat poured. Droplets fell, soaking into the ground.
Silver crescent moonlight painted the scene—a boy fighting gods within himself.
Ashan's face grimaced. Not enough.
He took another pill.
Another wave of energy slammed through him. Veins bulged—popping, repairing, popping again. His Chit Sagar trembled—waves rising, crashing, the calm sea becoming storm. And greed surged again. To devour. To coil. To keep.
But this time—something changed.
The faint, unknown energy—the lust—began to form. It was faint. Little. Small. Barely sustaining its own existence. But present. Deep crimson—dark, rich, alive—flickered in the depths. Meekly trying to absorb energy. Meekly trying to exist.
Greed would not allow it. Cunning. Hostile. Absolute.
Well. Ashan let the thought surface. The birth was successful. But I don't want to spawn-kill it.
He continued the lust cycle. Hours passed. The energies reached equilibrium—fragile, trembling, temporary. But lust is still too faint. Barely there.
Shha. Hiss. The equilibrium shattered. Dark golden greed attacked—surging, devouring, trying to erase the intruder completely.
Wow. Calm down, buddy. You're both going to be tenants.
He tried to protect the new energy. Lust—feeling its existence threatened—fought back. The two sins collided.
BAM.
The impact sent shockwaves through every fiber of Ashan's being. Root chakra screamed. Vibrations ripped through channels, through organs, through soul.
Look at that. Not even a minute old, and it's already baring fangs.
This battle is destroying me.
His body showed the cost. Veins burst and healed, burst and healed. Flesh tore and knitted, tore and knitted. The Chit Sagar—his mind-sea—cracked. Spiderwebs spreading across the landscape. Weather shifting at impossible speed—storm to calm to storm in heartbeats. Blood still flowed from his eyes, staining the grey-white swirls with dark crimson.
He looked like a madman. Possessed. Damned.
Looks like I'm truly seeking death today.
Two more pills in his hand. His lips curled—dark, amused, defiant. For immortality. He swallowed both.
Lightning. Not metaphor—lightning. Energy slammed through him like a god's smite. Waves became tsunamis. Channels became rivers. His being screamed.
Ashan did not stop. He continued the lust cycle. Pain be damned. Body be damned. Soul be damned.
Greed. You want energy? Devour.
The two sins felt the surge. They drank. They grew. They fought. In moments, the little lust energy expanded—still smaller, still weaker, but larger. More real.
Hiss. Gaww. Refueled, they resumed their war. And Ashan—Ashan remained the battlefield.
Let's see who breaks first. Me? Or the energies?