In the ritual ground, Mahangira's and the king's so-called ritual was still continuing.
Those eyeballs started to rotate inside those hollow eye sockets as if they were trying to burrow deeper into the skulls. Slowly, they sank further and further until, with one final turn, they stopped. At the same moment, blood pulsed out from the eye holes, and with that last rotation, the sockets seemed to engrave themselves into the eyeballs.
The eyes, which had appeared completely normal a moment ago, suddenly began to change.
Tiny sigils emerged from the depths of the eyeballs and slowly crawled toward the irises. Upon the irises themselves, different symbols and strange geometries started to materialize. Blue and red lines drew themselves across the eyes as if guided by an invisible hand.
But the transformations did not stop there.
Those blue geometrical patterns mixed with blood-like substances and flowed outward from the eyes. They first spread across the foreheads of the victims before connecting to their lips. Then the patterns continued downward, branching across every part of their bodies and illuminating a complex kosha-like*** structure upon their flesh.
As if that alone were not horrifying enough, blue blood suddenly began to pour from their mouths like fountains. The blood flowed through those glowing lines, feeding them continuously. Symbols and geometries started to copy themselves from the eyes and spread throughout the entire body, mixing with the flowing blood.
As the mixture dripped onto the ground, pools of blood gathered beneath each person.
Within those pools, different symbols began drawing themselves automatically.
Seeing this, all of her copies burst into laughter and started dancing around the fire. Some bent down and dipped their unnaturally long tongues into the fresh blood, tasting it with delight. Their laughter became louder, their movements more frenzied. They danced around the bonfire like crazed spirits celebrating a forgotten festival.
At the same time, geometrical patterns began arranging themselves within the blood pools. Layer upon layer formed beneath the victims, creating intricate kosha-like*** structures.
Suddenly, another crimson circle appeared around each of the koshas. It circled each person once before three spiraling lines emerged from every circle. Those spirals converged at a single point.
From that exact spot, a path started tracing its own way forward. It looked as though the bonfire were a beacon, actively pulling the glowing lines across the dark ground.
The paths stretched toward the center and merged together near the flames, eventually creating another enormous kosha that covered almost the entire ritual ground.
Near the pyre, the paths ended in two enormous circles.
Her copies moved around those circles while dripping blood from their hair, drawing additional sigils and geometries upon the ground. Their movements resembled a sacred dance twisted into something profane.
Throughout all of this, Mahangira remained completely engrossed in meditation.
Not a single movement escaped him.
Then suddenly he opened his eyes.
Without warning, he threw something into the fire.
BOOM!
The bonfire erupted upward.
The flames surged toward the sky, rising almost to the highest point of the arena. The entire ritual ground was illuminated in red and blue light.
Mahangira's laughter echoed everywhere.
"Hahahaha... it's done!"
From the upper chamber, the king immediately shouted,
"Oh! It's higher this time. Something good is arriving."
But before anyone could celebrate, the heavens suddenly changed.
CRACK!
A massive burst of red lightning descended from the sky at some distant place. Countless branches of crimson lightning spread across the clouds as though heaven itself were stretching down to punish someone.
For the first time in a long while, Mahangira's expression changed. He stared toward the distant horizon in shock. The king immediately noticed it.
"What now?" he shouted. "You told me not to go there!"
Mahangira continued staring into the distance for several moments.
Then he slowly closed his eyes. The flames continued to roar, and the blood koshas continued to glow. The dancing figures continued their movements.
After some time, he suddenly began laughing again with pure excitement. "Hahaha... it's the best. It's for the best of all time."
The king let out a long sigh upon hearing that laughter, yet his face betrayed him. A fleeting mix of uneasiness, suspicion, and a sudden, sharp dread flashed deep within his eyes.
Meanwhile, the woman-shaped figure standing upon the ritual ground slowly turned toward Mahangira. A smile spread across her face.
She bowed deeply. "He he he... all done." Her voice trembled with joy. "Nothing can surpass it anymore. It is certain now. Its arrival is certain. Nothing will obstruct my path this time. My life's work... the work for which I was born... is finally successful."
Her body trembled as her eyes shone brighter and brighter.
"This time the path will be higher..."
"Higher..."
"High Priest..."
"High Priest..."
"It was successful."
"This time the path will be bigger."
"Shorter."
"Closer."
As she spoke, the radiance within her eyes intensified once more; a divine light burst from her pupils.
Suddenly her entire body lifted from the ground, and she floated into the air.
The moment she rose, an entirely ancient, hoarse powerful voice forced its way from her throat, flat and resonant. The voice proclaimed:
"The appearance of Zeroth will happen."
For a brief moment, even the flames seemed to freeze, the air stopped blowing, and that black pus also stopped falling.
Then, a sky-piercing laugh erupted from Mahangira.
"Hahahahahahahaha!"
His laughter shook the ritual ground, the bonfire surged again, and the blood koshas glowed brighter.
Even the king felt a chill crawl down his spine.
Mahangira laughed as though every sacrifice, every death, every scheme, and every year of preparation had finally reached the moment he had been waiting for.
Above them, the woman's body suddenly lost its strength, her divine radiance vanished, and she fell from the sky with a "THUD" sound on the ground.
In the midst of their laughter, fire suddenly began to race along the kosha*** lines, spreading from the pyre. It flowed through the geometries like a current surging through countless channels, illuminating every symbol and sigil carved upon the ritual ground.
The glowing lines stretched outward in every direction before finally reaching the bodies.
The moment the fire touched them, every victim's eyes and mouth lit up.
"Guhhh..."
Strange choking sounds escaped from their throats.
Their clothes started to burn away, reduced to ashes by the unnatural flames. At the same time, numbers began appearing across their skin, yet those were not truly numbers. Each one was a complex mixture of koshas***, symbols, sigils, and geometrical koshas*** woven together to represent numerical values beyond ordinary understanding.
One after another, the markings appeared. A total of one hundred and seven numbers manifested upon the gathered bodies. The sight was both beautiful and horrifying. Blue light, red blood, black sigils, and golden flames intertwined together like a grand painting drawn by madness itself.
Meanwhile, all of her copies had begun merging together. The countless dancing figures dissolved into streams of shadow and light before converging into a single body.
Her form started to change; the marks that once covered her skin vanished. Her body became fuller and healthier, her appearance transforming into that of a mature and elegant woman. She slowly opened her eyes with a lustful smile that can make any man put his hand beneath his lower part.
Mahangira stepped forward and pulled her gently up by the waist.
"Let's journey toward a new world..." he said.
Both of them smiled at one another.
For a brief moment, amidst the blood, flames, and ritual Koshass, they looked like two people celebrating the completion of a lifelong dream.
But that moment did not last as the fat king's voice thundered from above, "She is mine!"
His voice echoed throughout the arena: "She is only mine!" "Leave her, you lowly servant!"
Immediately, the advisor's voice followed.
"Your Majesty, control your impulses..."
"Shut up!" the king roared.
"I want her! The others can no longer satisfy me. Mahangira, I will have her first!"
The woman's expression twisted with disgust.
Mahangira, however, simply laughed.
"King, my beloved king," he said mockingly, "please wait until the ritual is completed."
He slowly released his hand from her waist.
"See? I let go."
"Do not worry. As I promised, she will be yours."
His smile widened.
"But for now, please give the order. We must set sail soon. My spell cannot hold forever."
He raised his head toward the brightening horizon.
"The rising sun possesses far greater power than the setting sun."
The king's face twisted with impatience and desire. Still, he finally nodded, "Fine, fine."
He waved his hand carelessly, "All commanders, prepare the soldiers. Advisor, go and check the arrangements outside. I will come after one more round."
The woman quietly leaned toward Mahangira and whispered, "Stupid pig."
Mahangira stifled a sudden burst of laughter. "As predicted," he murmured back, "he truly is a beast driven by nothing but lust. It's a miracle this kingdom hasn't fallen already."
He exhaled deeply. "Just one more event." Suddenly his eyes shone with anticipation. "One more event and we will become rulers of the new continent."
The woman glanced toward the distance, and she asked, "What about the soldiers? The clan leaders? The elders? The cabinet members? Those greedy business men? Those powerful people who were spying at distance?"
Mahangira waved his hand dismissively. "Do not worry. They still have their uses," and a cold smile spread across his face. "Every one of them thinks they are plotting in secret. They believe they are controlling events from the shadows. But whenever I see those bastards, I want to tear them apart."
His breathing grew ragged. For the first time, tears of blood welled in his furious, reddened eyes, spilling over as if he were losing something far more precious than his own life. "For their sake..." he choked out. "I ended up like this."
"My..."
"My..."
"Ahhh..."
His expression twisted as old memories resurfaced. "Those bastards made me remember everything again. The only thing they ever knew was kill, kill, kill."
The woman gently pressed a finger against his forehead.
"You've spent too much energy."
"Calm down."
"Rest for a moment."
"It will pass."
Mahangira slowly nodded.
Meanwhile, the king's voice continued echoing across the arena.
He was still issuing orders while indulging in his distractions.
"Fourth Contact!"
"Contact that useless bastard!"
"Did he prepare the docks or not?"
"You three, go adjust my chariot!"
"You go gather those soldiers and kick their asses if necessary!"
"You bitch, enough is enough!"
"Go there with them and sleep there!"
"Mahangira, open the southeast gate!"
"Quickly!"
His voice became increasingly incoherent.
The six commanders vanished from their positions to carry out his orders.
Only the king remained behind, continuing his rambling commands; meanwhile, upon the ritual ground, Mahangira finally lifted his arm. His finger pointed toward the southeastern gate.
Immediately, every controlled slave and ritual figure turned their heads in perfect unison. The movement was so synchronized that it seemed less human and more like a single organism obeying one mind.
Mahangira laughed and said, "Turn."
Everybody turned.
"Move."
Like puppets attached to invisible strings, they began walking toward the gate. Their movements looked human, and their footsteps sounded human, yet there was something profoundly wrong about them.
The entire crowd marched under Mahangira's control. With a controlled marching sound, they finally reached the gate. Mahangira raised his hand.
"Stop."
Every body froze instantly.
His eyes scanned the front row.
"Front two. Forward."
Two controlled slave figures standing nearest to the gate immediately stepped out from the crowd.
They moved forward mechanically.
Mahangira smiled.
"Go. Go die."
The two figures obeyed.
They took one step after another, but as they reached the door, they stopped.
Their bodies trembled as a sudden hesitation appeared in their mind. Someone gave you an order of death; can you really follow it? This kind of thought slowly appeared in their minds.
The fear of death had reached deeper than Mahangira's commands.
They stood there motionless. Mahangira's smile slowly disappeared, and he ordered more. "Move," he shouted thrice, but seeing no response came. A vein bulged on Mahangira's forehead, and his left hand slowly tightened; dark purple-black energy gathered within his palm.
The surrounding air trembled. Then, from his hand a black-purple projectile shot forward. The two figures never even had time to scream. With a plop sound, their bodies exploded into bloody pulp.
Blood splattered across the gate, chunks of flesh struck the stone walls, and the ground became stained crimson.
The remaining controlled bodies stood motionless, and behind Mahangira's smile, a dangerous anger had begun to awaken.
Mahangira shouted,
"Union!"
The moment the word left his mouth, an indescribable horror disguised as a miracle unfolded before everyone's sleeping eyes.
The blood scattered across the ground suddenly began to move.
At first, it was only a few drops trembling. Then the entire river of blood started flowing toward the gate like countless crimson vines crawling over the earth.
The blood splattered upon the massive iron gate also began to stir. Slowly, unnaturally, it crawled across the black metal surface. Then, without warning, the blood started to evaporate. Thin streams of crimson mist rose into the air.
As the blood vanished, countless geometric symbols hidden within the gate suddenly lit up one after another; a strange glow spread across the ancient metal. At the same time, a rhythmic sound echoed through the arena.
Tuk... tuk... tuk...
It sounded as though invisible strings hidden inside the gate were being cut one by one. From top to bottom, symbols and geometrical patterns started shifting across the gate's surface. Some moved, some remained still, some rotated, and others slid into new positions.
Seen from a distance, it resembled a night sky where stars were moving freely across an unseen game board.
The sight was mesmerizing and deeply unsettling. As the rearrangement continued, lines gradually began connecting the symbols. One symbol linked to another and creating an ongoing series of connections.
The connections formed with such perfect symmetry that if the gate were split directly down the middle, both sides would mirror each other flawlessly.
A giant pattern slowly emerged, and the air itself seemed to vibrate.
"Hummmmmm…" Like that, a deep, resonating sound echoed from within the gate. At the very center of the enormous door, two hook-shaped symbols facing opposite directions suddenly illuminated.
Immediately, every glowing line on the gate began flowing toward those two hooks. Streams of light rushed inward from every direction.
Yet, just before reaching them, something stopped the flow. The lights gathered around the hooks instead.
They began rotating one in a clockwise direction and the other one counterclockwise. The circles expanded and contracted repeatedly. Then they attempted to merge with the hooks, but the moment they touched the symbols, they abruptly stopped, and the gathered light retreated.
Straight lines shot outward again and began rotating around their original paths as though an invisible force had rejected them.
Seeing this, Mahangira's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with a sudden twist of rage. But he forced himself to calm down, scanning the massive gate from top to bottom before beginning a low chant.
His voice was low and distorted, carrying a strange rhythm that made even the surrounding air tremble. Suddenly, he threw another purple sphere toward the gate. The sphere struck the gate, but nothing happened actually.
Mahangira understood instantly. Neither his own strength nor the blood-fueled Kosha would ever be enough. No, perhaps it wasn't a matter of raw power at all. Perhaps their bloodline simply lacked the right, the divine qualification, to touch whatever slumbered within that gate. It has to be... it must be...
For a brief moment, fury flashed through his eyes, and the veins on his forehead bulged once again. King shouted, "What happened? Quickly opened it, or should I go?" The surrounding atmosphere became colder.
Then his gaze shifted toward the controlled humans standing nearby. Slowly, the anger disappeared and a sinister smile appeared instead.
He smiled towards the king but said nothing. Only a single thought was in his mind: 'If a little blood could not move the gate… Then why not offer an entire vessel of blood? A thousand humans. A thousand lives are all present here." A crazy smile appeared on his face…
Without any thought, he raised his hand again. Dark energy began gathering in his palm. He was preparing to throw another sphere toward the nearest humans.
But before he could act, suddenly from the sharp tips of the two hook symbols, streams of light suddenly shot upward and downward simultaneously.
The lights moved so quickly that they resembled blades. In an instant, they tore through every bloodline connected to the gate.
One after another, the crimson pathways shattered, and the entire Koshas collapsed; lines dimmed.
Mahangira froze with a genuine shock that appeared in his eyes. Then he spoke again but with both annoyance and disbelief: "Open."
The gate responded.
CRAAAAACK!
A deafening sound echoed through the arena.
The enormous iron gate slowly opened outward. The sound of grinding metal echoed like a beast awakening from a thousand-year slumber.
Mahangira stared at the opening. His expression remained calm, yet inwardly, he was furious.
From the beginning of the ritual until now, strange events had repeatedly disrupted his plans.
Someone was interfering.
Someone was playing with him.
But he neither knew who it was nor had time to investigate.
His schedule was already too tight.
His ritual was nearing completion; there was no room for delays. Slowly, he raised his head toward the upper darkness of the arena.
There, hidden within the shadows, stood the king. The king was already staring at him with a mocking smile playing on his face.
For several moments, neither spoke, but then both smiled and nodded.
An unspoken understanding passed between them.
Mahangira turned back toward the gate.
He pointed forward.
"Move."
Then he added,
"Five in one row."
Immediately, the controlled crowd obeyed, and rows of five began marching toward the opened gate. The slaves entered first and then came the numbered figures.
Their glowing symbols flickered beneath their skin as they passed through the ancient doorway. Row after row disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Finally, Mahangira himself followed behind them. His robes fluttered slightly as he walked through the southeastern gate.
The king watched everything unfold from above.
Yet neither he nor Mahangira noticed the subtle shift: upon a distant wall of the arena, blood-stained cracks still remained, but the boy who should have been pinned there was gone.
Nobody, no shadow, no trace of a presence was left behind—as if he had vanished from existence itself. Wrapped up in the ritual and blinded by their own ambitions, they missed it entirely.
And in the darkness, unseen by all, fate quietly continued moving its pieces across the board.
To be Continued…
***Kosha:A Kosha is a sacred circuit made of a central Bindu, precise geometry, and structural nodes. Its most precious part is this exact combination of the central dot, triangles, different geometries, and enclosing circles that lock the lines together. It is the most precious part needed to draw a Yantra.