King woke up slowly.
His vision blurred for a moment as the ceiling came into focus. A dull ache spread through his entire body—muscles sore, bones heavy, like he had been dragged through a battlefield and thrown back.
He pushed himself up with a grunt, rolling his shoulder slightly.
"Tch…"
His jaw tightened.
"What happened…?"
Fragments returned.
The fight.
The blows.
Paksha Tamas—
King's eyes narrowed.
"I killed him… I'm sure I did."
He clicked his tongue in irritation, running a hand through his hair.
"Then how the hell did he come back…?" His gaze darkened. "And why was he trying to save him?"
His fingers pressed against his temples as a faint headache pulsed behind his eyes.
A voice echoed inside his mind.
Kali.
"He's an Uncanny Valley Agent."
King exhaled slowly and dropped back onto the bed, folding his hands behind his head like nothing mattered.
"…And who are they supposed to be?"
Kali scoffed.
"Hmph. A branch of a certain Demon King's army."
A pause.
"But I banned all demons from entering the human world… which means—" his tone shifted, colder, sharper, "—someone has found a way around my rules."
King stared at the ceiling, uninterested.
"So… you know who he is?"
A faint smirk crept onto his face.
"Good. Then tell me where he is. I'll go kill him."
Kali laughed—low, amused.
"You?"
A brief silence followed.
"He would destroy you with a flick of his finger."
That made King's brow twitch.
"If you wish to even stand in front of him," Kali continued, "you will need an army… and abilities beyond what you have now. Siddhis."
King sat up immediately, irritation flashing in his eyes.
"Hey. Stop underestimating me."
He stretched his arms, bones cracking faintly.
"I'm still growing."
Kali's voice softened—calm, calculating.
"And that is exactly why you need patience."
A pause.
"There are too many enemies right now. Vikram. The Agents."
Then—
"You need assistance."
King tilted his head slightly.
"…Assistance?"
"Yes."
A faint hum filled his mind.
"I will allow a limited flow of mana into this world."
King stood up, walking toward the kitchen casually, like they were discussing something trivial.
"But not everyone will receive it," Kali added.
King picked up a kettle, filling it with water.
"What's the condition?"
Kali's answer came without hesitation.
"Extreme mental imbalance."
King paused for half a second—then continued like nothing happened.
"Only those pushed to the edge—near death, overwhelming emotions, broken minds—will awaken abilities," Kali continued. "And those abilities will reflect what they are naturally suited for."
The sound of boiling water filled the room.
King smirked faintly.
"Huh… sounds like a cheap version of Mudra users."
He poured tea into a cup.
"You're basically recreating them—but without Mudras."
Kali scoffed.
"Not just that."
A pause.
"There is another ability… one that belongs only to Supreme King Mudra users."
King froze mid-sip.
"…Speak."
"You can create your own subordinates."
Silence.
Then—
King slowly lowered the cup.
"Tell me how."
Kali's voice carried a hint of excitement now.
"Take your Mudra… and offer your blood to the letter K."
No hesitation.
King pulled out the coin instantly.
For a brief second, he stared at it—
Then sliced his finger.
Drops of blood fell.
The moment they touched—
The room exploded in crimson light.
Black flames flickered violently around the coin, twisting and writhing like living shadows. The air grew heavy—charged.
Then—
A silent surge.
Power erupted outward.
Not loud.
Not destructive.
But vast.
It spread across the sky like an invisible wave.
Far away—
Inside a bank—
Criminals froze mid-robbery.
Something formed in their pockets.
Twisted Mudras.
Dark.
Corrupted.
Across cities…
Across countries…
More appeared.
In the hands of criminals.
Murderers.
Rapists.
Corrupt men hidden behind power and wealth.
Some stared in confusion.
Others didn't even notice—too busy committing their sins.
Back in the room—
King looked around slowly.
"…What the hell was that?"
Kali's voice returned, satisfied.
"A king does not rule alone."
A pause.
"He commands."
"Every Mudra born from your power will belong to you."
King's lips slowly curved upward.
"…So they're all mine."
His grin widened.
"With this… I can take over everything."
He began laughing.
"Bwahahahaha—!"
Then—
He stopped.
His eyes lifted toward the sky.
Something changed.
High above—
A golden sphere appeared.
And from it—
Light began to fall.
Soft.
Gentle.
Countless glowing particles spread across the world like divine snow.
People everywhere paused.
A strange warmth filled their chests.
Comforting.
Peaceful.
Like being embraced.
Mudras formed again—
But these were different.
Gold.
Silver.
Bronze.
Pure.
Balanced.
Kali's voice snapped, irritated.
"…Damn those fools."
King frowned.
"What now?"
Kali answered, cold.
"The Supreme King has entered the board."
A pause.
"He is placing his own pawns."
On the hospital rooftop—
Vikram stood beneath the glowing sky.
The golden particles drifted around him, reflecting in his eyes.
Beside him—
Power.
And another presence.
Chitralekha.
Calm. Composed. Watching everything unfold.
"I didn't expect you to pass my test," she said.
Vikram grinned, completely unfazed.
"Heyyy… I focus pretty well when the supervisor is hot like you."
Chitralekha closed her eyes, a faint smirk forming.
"Flattery will not take you far."
Before Vikram could respond—
Power grabbed his ear and twisted it hard.
"What do you mean hot, you idiot?!"
"Ouch—OUCH—wait—!"
"You didn't praise me like that!"
"I did! You're also in the beautiful category—!"
She glared at him.
Deadly.
Vikram laughed nervously and quickly looked away.
"…So—uh—what happens now?"
Chitralekha stepped forward slightly, her gaze sweeping across the city.
"They are free."
Vikram blinked.
"…Free?"
"They are not your army," she said. "They choose their own path."
She looked directly at him.
"Because you are a king… not a dictator."
That landed.
Hard.
She continued.
"We took a risk. But since King is building an army… we need allies."
Vikram's expression slowly turned serious.
He remembered the fight.
The pain.
The helplessness.
Power gently held his hand.
He looked at her.
She smiled.
Steady.
Reassuring.
Chitralekha noticed.
A faint smirk crossed her lips.
"There are three types of Mudras," she continued.
"Soldier Mudra—Bronze. Rathi level."
"Queen Mudra—Silver. Maharathi level."
"King Mudra—Golden. Ati Maharathi level."
Her voice remained calm—but carried weight.
"Your Mudra… is different."
She looked at the coin in his hand.
"BMV."
"Brahma. Vishnu. Mahesh."
"Creation. Preservation. Destruction."
Vikram listened carefully.
Absorbing everything.
"You can use all three," she said. "Others can only use one at a time."
Silence followed.
Then—
Vikram smiled.
Confident.
Excited.
"…Got it."
He clenched his fist.
"Next time I meet King…"
His eyes sharpened.
"I won't lose."