"If we're discussing Swadharma, you should also learn about Chaturartha."
Nadrima's voice carried lazy amusement. She stretched the words out, savoring them like the smoke that still curled from her chilim.
"Chaturartha." She let the word hang. "The Four Aims of the Soul." She counted on her fingers, the motion slow and deliberate. "Dharma—right action. Artha—purpose. Kama—pleasure. Moksha—freedom."
A shrug. "And before your feeble mind gets confused—no, this 'Dharma' isn't the Dharma Veda. This 'Kama' isn't the House of Lust." Her lips curved. "Same words. Different meanings. Context matters."
So 'Kama' here isn't just lust. It's a pleasure. Broader. Deeper.
Acarya Errick picked up the thread. "The core of everything you've learned—everything you've gained—can be summarized in a few lines."
He quoted, his voice taking on the weight of scripture: "Darsanas are what civilizations believe. Chaturartha are what all beings are driven by. Swadharma is how an individual navigates between collective truth and universal drives."
Then what drives me? Kama? Pleasure? Artha? Purpose? Moksha? Freedom?
Or Dharma—my duty. To continue living. Even if living means taking lives.
The spectrum of morality shatters when it reflects different hues from different people.
Ashan bowed. "Thank you, Acarya. You've expanded my horizon."
"Hmm." A pause. Then: "Now. That's done." Errick's voice shifted. "I congratulate you on completing your mission. Your rewards."
Finally, I was dying for this.
His face remained pious. A perfect mask for the screaming greed beneath.
"A thousand bronze coins." Errick gestured to Nadrima.
She groaned. "Do we have to give that much?"
Errick's smile was small. Final.
Nadrima tossed a pouch. "Your good fortune."
Ashan caught it and opened it. Ten silver coins gleamed—Suryazar Rajyam mint, familiar sunburst designs catching the light.
Wait. One coin was different. He held it closer. Examined it. On its front: a black spiral eye that seemed to shift when tilted. On its back: a seven-pointed star composed of fangs and tails.
"That—!" Nadrima's hand shot out to snatch it back.
"Nadrima." The single word stopped her cold. Errick's voice had dropped—slow, icy, absolute. "Care to explain why you still carry an Order-minted coin on a voyage? Did I not instruct you to exchange it all for Rajyam currency?"
Nadrima's face went pale. She bowed low. "I... I apologize for the mismanagement. Please forgive me."
So this is Order currency.
Ashan blinked. Then blinked again. Is my vision playing tricks? Why is her body... petrifying?
Nadrima's skin was changing. Flesh darkening, hardening, cracking like old stone. Ashan stepped back. Errick's eyes had transformed—serpentine slits, ancient and cold, beginning to glow.
Is he going to kill her? Over a coin?
The glow faded. Nadrima's flesh returned to normal. She kept her head down, chest heaving, not daring to look up.
"Where was I?" Errick's voice was calm again. Serene. "Ah, yes. Ashan. Keep that coin. Guard it carefully."
"Yes, Acarya!" Ashan bowed deeply.
"Next." Errick's tone shifted—business now, not judgment. "Your mantra and kiriya pools are small. It's time to expand."
A dim light flickered. From somewhere—a storage space, a folded dimension—Errick produced brownish, patched scrolls. He passed them over. Ashan unrolled the first.
[EARTH ARMAMENT]
Type: Mantra
School of mantra: Srjana
Rank: Bodnir
Information: Allows the user to shape earth into weapon forms—spears, swords, spikes, etc. The more complex the shape and the longer it's maintained, the higher the atmic consumption.
Note: This version has been adapted for Bodnir-rank use. The original is Arohan-ranked.
Powerful.
[EARTH WALL]
Type: Mantra
School of mantra: Srjana
Rank: Bodnir
Information: Creates a wall of earth. Greater atmic investment increases durability and duration.
[SVARP VADIVU]
Type: Kiriya
Rank: Bodnir
Information: The fundamental fighting stances and postures of the House of Greed, Serpent Fraction. Forms the foundation of combat arts—with or without weapons.
Ashan read. Absorbed. Committed to memory.
"Acarya." He looked up. "A question."
"Speak."
"I can already shape [Elemental Bolt: Prithvi] into spikes and walls. I achieved deeper Bodh. So why learn [Earth Armament]? Isn't it redundant?"
Errick smiled. "An excellent question." He leaned forward. "The distinction lies in potency and nature."
He gestured to the scroll in Ashan's hand. "With [Elemental Bolt], you are forcing the earth to change. You cast energy, then sculpt it—two steps. Two expenditures. The result is functional, but it's a modification." He paused. "[Earth Armament] is different. The earth doesn't resist this mantra—it obeys. The shape is inherent to the casting. You don't sculpt after; you manifest already sculpted."
"One is changing nature. The other is being nature." He let the words settle. "So. Whose understanding would you rather deepen? The one that fights the earth, or the one that speaks its language?"
Ashan stood silent for a long moment.
Both are Bodnir-ranked. But [Earth Armament] clearly outclasses [Elemental Bolt]. With the former, I don't waste energy shaping after casting—it comes shaped.
Efficiency. That's the difference.
"I understand, Acarya. Thank you."
"Your final reward." Errick's voice shifted—solemn now. Weighted. "The complete knowledge of your marga."
Yes.
Ashan's hands clenched. Finally, A genuine smile flickered—there and gone.
"But," Errick raised a finger, "Kumar Taevor stipulated a final trial."
Ashan waited. "Survive a fight with Nadrima."
What. Ashan's internal scream was silent. His face remained still.
Errick produced a parchment. Tore it in one smooth motion. "Oh. And this—" He tossed a small ring. "Storage ring. Inside are charm-casting materials from Yaren. You have three weeks. Learn your new gifts."
Strange light wrapped around both Errick and Nadrima. Ashan shielded his eyes. But before his vision blurred completely, he caught it: Nadrima's face. Contorted in a dark smirk. Then—gone.
Ashan stood alone in the sudden silence. He looked at the ring in his palm. Gripped it tight.
That bastard snake.
Survive. Survive how long? At least tell me that much.
Three weeks to learn new mantras. Then fight an Arohan-ranked sadhaka. For how long? A minute? An hour? Until she decides I've had enough?
He shook his head. Unrolled the scrolls again.
Three weeks. Learn. Practice. Prepare.
Then fight for my life.