The clash continued.
Sharp, vibrant shocks rippled through every fiber of Ashan's being—each collision a hammer blow against his soul, each impact a reminder that the thing he was trying to become and the thing he was trying to leave behind were the same thing. Dark crimson lust energy grew alive with each surge, feeding on the chaos that had been building since the first pill was swallowed. Both sins consumed the Union pills' energy waves like starving beasts.
Damn. The pain is increasing.
Jaw clenched. Fists tight. Nails drawing blood from palms. Physical damage piled. Mental damage mounted. The landscape of his mind-sea fractured further—cracks spreading across the island that had been his anchor, waves crashing against shores that had been calm and were calm no longer.
I can't stop now.
He tried to soothe them. Tried to be the thing that would hold them together. Greed would not listen. Territorial. Absolute. Furious. And lust—barely hours old—already spread its vines. Asserting domain. Wanting everything.
Veins burst and healed. Burst and healed. The Chit Sagar screamed.
Hours passed. Maybe days. Time lost meaning.
Until—finally—the energies devoured the last of the Union pills' excess.
Ashan's vision swam—pure dark crimson staining everything, making the world bloody and hazy. But beneath it, the faint grey-white swirls remained, spinning in their eternal whirlpool motion. A puddle of blood had formed beneath him. Breath came slow. Measured.
Alive.
Looks like they've exhausted themselves. Standoff.
He wiped the blood from his eyes—a thick smear across his forearm. Before him, the energies circled his root chakra. Dark golden greed. Dark crimson lust. Both present. Both watching.
Greed had surrendered territory. It lay coiled but quiet—watching, waiting, planning.
Don't be too greedy. You're still the cherished child.
A faint chuckle escaped cracked lips. Now. The last thing.
He circulated lust energy toward the root chakra. The new dark crimson flowed happily—eager, alive, hungry. Greed stirred. Tried to obstruct. Ashan held it back. Exhausted from its war, it could not resist.
The lust energy wrapped around the root chakra—baptizing it in dark crimson light. Something surged through him. Hot and cold simultaneously. New imprints began forming in his being—tattoos on both hands, left and right, dark and intricate. But they did not complete. Not yet.
He did not stop. The sadhana continued.
He switched cycles—greed to lust, lust to greed. Dark golden and dark crimson wrapped around his root chakra in alternating waves.
My control over sin energy has improved. I can move them now. Without too much resistance.
Body and soul began healing—slowly, painfully, but healing. Ah. The bliss of sadhana.
He was completely engrossed. The blasphemous act—defying Order teaching—brought him the results he had sought. Cycles switched. Mid-breath. Mid-mantra. Mid-existence.
Night fell. The day came. He matched them to the sun: greed by day, lust by night.
.....
One week later.
One week. I didn't even feel it pass.
Sadhana is a potent drug.
Ashan exhaled—long, deep, finished. He stood. The puddle of blood beneath him had dried—staining the ground in deep, dark crimson. The metallic stench still hung heavy, mixed with sweat.
He stretched. Flexed. Rolled shoulders that no longer ached.
I feel rejuvenated.
He moved. [Svarp Vadivu]. The stances flowed—Coiled, Burrowed, Fang, Grounded, Shedding—each one smoother, faster, more than before. [Broken Stone Fist]. Dark-blue glow enveloped his strikes as he punched the air—each impact cracking with force that had not been there a week ago.
Then—Ashurain syllables. Guttural. Profane. Alive. [Earth Armament]. The ground before him erupted. Five dark brown spears—each the height of a man—fleshed out from the earth in perfect formation. He clenched his fist. They shattered.
Both prana and atmic reserves have increased. Considerably. I can feel it. It's not an understatement: I have more energy than the average Bodnir-ranked sadhaka.
He settled back down. Contemplated.
Vidya refines four out of the five pillars of being. Ojas becomes prana. Manas becomes atmic.
Before, I combined House of Greed vidyas. Created a perfect Bodnir-rank synthesis. Now I have two. Greed. Lust. But I don't have perfect control over either. And lust is new—untamed.
Greed is my dormant sin. My axis. If I advance ranks, I'll only get Serpent fraction vidyas.
Complications. More complications. Tch.
But I can't abandon this path. It's unique. Dangerous. Blasphemous. It's my only edge.
His eyes shone—grey-white whirlpools spinning with renewed purpose. Information. Knowledge. Analysis. That's the only way forward. Analyze everything. Learn everything. Adapt. Only then can I advance on the path to immortality.
He sank back into sadhana. But this time—it was different. The Crimson Ghost had gained his crimson. The sin cycle continued. Greed by day. Lust by night. And his eyes—those terrible, knowing eyes—kept swirling. Always swirling.