"Indra! Get out of here—we can't beat him," Koto whispered barely audibly before his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.
Indra turned to Ashura, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Well, Indra, the day has finally come when I can see the same pain in your eyes that I've seen in the mirror for the past six years!"
"Cleanse them of your poison, Ashura. This is between you and me," Indra replied, his voice unusually calm and dry.
"I swear by the goddess, I won't run from you. Just lift your poison from them."
"Indra, Indra, Indra," Ashura said mockingly. "You always play the noble savior so beautifully. Willing to strike a deal with me, no matter the cost to yourself."
"Get out!" Gala shouted hoarsely, spitting blood onto the ground.
"Well, well, seems your friend has a bit of fire," Ashura laughed.
"Gala!" Indra rushed to her side. "Don't speak. Just hold on."
He placed his palm gently on her forehead and began chanting rapidly:
"O gracious goddess, who saves our lives moment by moment,
Great beginning, river of boundless grace,
Look upon your daughter and grant her purification."
Gala's body began to glow with a golden light. For a moment, Indra allowed himself to hope the spell was working. But then the light vanished. Overwhelmed by the venom's agony, Gala collapsed to the ground, writhing in terror.
"Oh, Indra," Ashura said with a wicked grin, "did I forget to mention that all purification spells actually intensify the effects of this curse? But don't worry—I think it's the kindest thing you could've done for her. You're simply speeding up her inevitable death."
"Ashuraaaa!" Indra roared in fury, slamming his fists into the earth.
He fell to his knees, his gaze fixed dully on a single blade of grass trembling in the wind.
For several seconds, there was only silence—broken only by Gala's ragged breathing. Ashura watched Indra's face intently.
Then, suddenly, Indra stood and looked up at the sky.
"May the gods forgive me," he whispered, and began to chant:
"Barrier of the Three Aspects of the Goddess!
First aspect, merciful Eya, shield this space with eternal strength.
Second aspect, indifferent Seh, reflect all incantations.
Third aspect, wise Aro, sustain the barrier!"
Three faces of the goddess appeared around Indra, Koto, and Gala, forming a glowing golden triangle that enveloped the space in radiant light.
"What a dramatic spell," Ashura said with a smirk. "But as I told you, no magic of yours can heal them."
"You're right, Ashura," Indra replied with a faint smile. "I can't heal them—but that's not what this barrier is for. It's only to keep you from stopping me."
"I, Indra of House Merdell, call upon the heavens!"
He raised one arm to the sky, exposing his wrist, then drew a silver herb knife with the other and slashed across it. Blood streamed to the ground.
"What are you doing?!" Ashura cried in horror, rushing to the barrier and drawing his sword.
"I call upon all gods, guardians, and spirits!"
"Stop!" Ashura shouted, striking the barrier with his sword. It rippled like water but held firm.
"Lift all limitations and be with me in this final moment!"
"Indraaa!" Ashura screamed, bombarding the barrier with furious blade-spells.
"By the blood of the Merdells, I make this pact!
Heal, cleanse, and restore your children—Koto of House Aggers and Gala of House Aggers!"
"You fool! Stop! Do you want to be trapped in Limbo forever?!" Ashura shouted, his voice laced with terror.
"Then let it be..."
As he spoke, Indra stepped through the barrier and embraced a stunned Ashura.
"So be it."
A single moment—
At the very last moment, just as Indra wrapped Ashura in his arms and whispered his final words, he closed his eyes for only an instant. He couldn't have imagined that in such a minuscule sliver of time, one could think and feel so much. The most overwhelming feeling that gripped him was fear — fear of the unknown: what would become of him, what kind of life awaited him, if being in limbo could even be called a life at all. He felt nothing and saw only darkness. A thought flickered through his mind: perhaps this was limbo — a hollow void where a disembodied mind drifts through eternity.
But another shock, on a day already overflowing with them, came in the form of a sudden sensation: the feel of someone else's body, the sound of ocean water, and sunlight piercing through closed eyelids.
He opened his eyes just as a sharp blow to the stomach sent him falling. Blinded by the harsh glare of sunlight, he landed on sand soft as a pillow.
"Aaah! You filthy bastard!" Ashura snarled, lunging at him and beginning to pummel his face without mercy.
"What did you do to me?!"
"N–"
A punch.
"Proshuuu!"
A punch.
"You–"
A punch.
"Wretched scum that ruins lives!"
Punch. Punch. Punch.
Ashura kept hitting Indra — his face, his head — choking him, hitting him again, cursing him between every blow.
Indra lay still and silent, letting out a low groan now and then when a particularly strong strike landed. He stopped listening to Ashura, probably by the end of the first hour. He could feel blood streaming from his nose and lips. Amid Ashura's shouts and the thud of fists, he started to hear the sound of ocean waves.
"Why won't you just die, you piece of shit?!" Ashura hissed, his punches slowing, growing weaker.
Indra wondered the same thing: why wasn't he passing out from the unbearable pain, why wasn't he dying from this relentless assault? He wanted to lose consciousness, to slip into oblivion, to finally rest. It wasn't the pain that made him crave it; he had grown used to pain back in his childhood, when his father, trying to mold him into a true clan leader, tortured him almost daily.
"Indra, you must be strong in spirit. Your emotions and feelings are just obstacles on that path. You are weak and soft, like your mother. I swear I'll rid you of that, so you can become a proper leader."
Those words — a mantra his father repeated before every "lesson" — marked the beginning of the torment. Every time it was something new: whip lashes, ice baths that lasted most of the night, beatings, intricate tortures. His fingernails were torn out with flesh, his teeth knocked out, the skin of his abdomen flayed. All accompanied by his father's moralizing:
"Endure it, Indra. In overcoming pain, you grow stronger."
His father would only stop when Indra managed not to make a sound — not a single moan — and his face bore an expression of utter indifference. Only then would his father heal his wounds, stroke his hair, and with a faint smile say:
"One day, you'll understand me."
Indra never did understand him. But now, in this moment, he was for the first time grateful that his father had taught him the art of feigned indifference. No, his father never succeeded in turning him into a heartless puppet. Indra still felt hurt, still felt pain — but he had learned to hide it well. He was simply too tired now. He just wanted that feeling to end.
From what he could tell, Ashura stopped beating him by the end of the second hour. After one final kick to the ribs, Ashura walked off somewhere.
After several minutes of silence, Indra realized that Ashura wasn't planning to continue his stress relief therapy via beating him any time soon. He tried to open his eyes, but after so many blows, they were so swollen he couldn't even crack them open.
"Great goddess Eya, I grant your son healing," Indra whispered faintly.
No wave of lightness followed his incantation, no familiar blend of discomfort and warmth that usually came with healing.
"Not surprising," he thought to himself. "Expecting to practice magic in the limbo was the height of arrogance and disrespect toward the gods."
The very fact that he wasn't burning in a river of lava or being torn apart by limbo's demons — the ones parents used to terrify children — but instead lying on a beach by the sea, already felt like unthinkable fortune.
Still, when has anything ever gone easily for you, Indra? Has anything in your life not come with a price?
As his thoughts drifted toward what might await him on this "paradise island," he fell into sleep.
When Indra awoke, it was day again. He opened his eyes and saw the same cloudless sky he had seen the moment he landed on the sand.
His eyes and eyelids were no longer swollen, his mind was clear, and his body felt no pain.
He jumped to his feet, seized by a mix of curiosity and dread about this "something" in which he found himself.
Indra glanced around. The same sea, the same white sand — unusually fine and soft, like the beaches of luxury resorts. On the horizon, there was nothing but endless water.
Turning his back to the sea, he saw what logic and common sense had already predicted — a tropical forest. Scattered trees grew here and there, among which Indra recognized the coconut palm and pandanus. Well, at least there's something to eat, he thought.
Based on the landscape before him, along with logic and his knowledge, it could be assumed that deeper within the island there were more plant species and bushes that couldn't grow near the shore because of the salty sea winds.
Would it be safe to try casting a spell again? What consequences might that bring? Thoughts and doubts crowded his mind. He certainly didn't want to anger the gods further. Then again, do they even hear his prayers in this place? That too remained a mystery. Still, better not. I'm not that much of a gambler.
It would be wiser to explore the island, but venturing into the interior didn't seem like the smartest idea. The presence of wild animals in a tropical forest could never be ruled out — or something worse. The horror stories about limbo's demons still echoed in his head. Honestly, yesterday's experience of serving as Ashura's personal punching bag had nearly convinced Indra that death wasn't possible here — but the idea of becoming some creature's chew toy wasn't exactly encouraging either.
Drawing a circle in the sand, Indra planted a stick he had found nearby into its center, then etched a small cross at the tip of its shadow. He began walking along the shoreline. The farther he got from his makeshift marker, the more he felt a strange unease — something wasn't right about this place. As ungrateful as it might be to criticize a limbo that looked like a tropical island, Indra couldn't shake the feeling.
Outwardly, everything seemed normal: sea, sand, scattered trees, a pleasant breeze that cooled him from the burning sun. But then he began to notice something odd — the sound of the sea was too monotonous, the wind blew with an unnervingly steady rhythm, and the rustling of leaves was eerily uniform.
Indra quickened his pace, wanting to return as soon as possible to the spot where he began his scouting. He hadn't discovered anything of note — the island was almost a perfect circle, with only slight variations in beach width. He passed two rocks where waves broke, splashing and foaming. And that was it. Throughout the walk, he never encountered Ashura, which logically led him to believe that the latter had gone deeper into the island.
I think it's been about an hour or so, Indra mused as he spotted his finish line. He approached the stick and gave a faint smirk.
"Just as I suspected." The shadow cast by the stick, and the cross he had drawn at its tip, remained completely unchanged.
"Time is frozen here," Indra said aloud, more matter-of-factly than surprised — his first spoken words since awakening.
"Alright, what do I know?" Picking up the same stick, he began to write in the sand:
"Time is frozen here."
He erased it. No, more like looping.
Time is stuck here.Judging by the sound of the water and the rustling of the trees, in the interval from 7 to 110 seconds. The island is almost a perfect circle.If I assume that I walked at a speed of 5 kilometers per hour and it took me an hour and a half, then the island is approximately 2-2.5 kilometers in diameter. The island is more than 2 kilometers in diameter.It's impossible to die here,— wrote Indra, and then, after thinking, added a question mark.
— Oh yes! After all, I haven't seen a single living creature, neither a bird, nor a crab, nor a turtle, which, theoretically, could be on a tropical beach. Maybe, there's no one here.All senses are present(especially pain, — Indra thought with some self-irony and a touch of self-pity).
Then he thought: wait, pain isn't the only sensation. What else do I feel? He began to listen to his body. He felt the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the wind, the smell of the sea and wet sand. And what about hunger or thirst?! Well, in principle, he wouldn't mind drinking water, but he wouldn't call it thirst. If he thought about it, neither yesterday after intense physical activity nor today after walking along the beach did he notice any increasing need for water or food.
— Maybe I should drink? And see what happens with my sense of taste?
Looking around, he saw a coconut tree nearby, with several green fruits hanging from it.
— Well, the first survival test, — Indra said aloud and added: — Seems like my conversation with myself started earlier than I expected.
— So, how do I get you down?
The tree was tall and smooth, so climbing it wouldn't be easy. Well, what do I have to lose? Even if I fall, the sand is soft, and pain isn't such a big problem.
He made several attempts to climb to the top until he succeeded. After plucking a couple of green coconuts and throwing them down, he descended.
Taking out his knife for collecting herbs, he started looking at it. Memories of the previous day overwhelmed him, and he felt a kind of pity for himself mixed with disgust at his own persona.
— I did everything right, — Indra clearly pronounced and shook his head as if brushing off his thoughts and feelings.
— And I need to talk to myself less. It would be good to survive here without going crazy, at least for a few years, — Indra thought to himself.
He struck the knife's tip on one of the "eyes" of the coconut, made a few twisting motions, scooped out the flesh, and made a hole in the fruit.
— If only I had a straw, it would be just like a resort, — Indra joked and smirked at his own sense of humor.
He flipped the fruit over and directed the stream of clear liquid into his open mouth.
After a few sips, he concluded: — This is coconut, and I'm a master of the obvious!
The taste of the coconut turned out to be exactly the same as he remembered from his childhood home.
— Well, at least that's in order, — concluded Indra.
Though, it's too early to make long-term conclusions, — his pessimistic side contributed its part to the conversation, but Indra preferred to call it vigilance.
The day passed with various experiments, including tasting seawater, swimming, and exploring the shallow part of the forest. Everything seemed familiar: no one in the water, just trees and bushes with berries in the forest. He made no new discoveries.
By his estimation, more than twelve hours had passed since his awakening, but as Indra had expected, the sun hadn't moved from its zenith by even a fraction. During this time, he had gotten hungry and thirsty; both problems were solved by coconut fruits.
He felt sleepy and decided to make himself a little resting place.
He found large pandanus bushes near the beach, grabbed a few bunches, and cut some leaves. He returned to the shore with them.
After laying a few leaves on the sand near the pandanus, he lay down and covered his face with a small leaf so the light wouldn't disturb his sleep.
— Wake up, you worthless piece of trash!
Receiving a hard kick to his ribs, Indra jumped to his feet.
Standing in front of him was Ashura, his eyes burning with anger, his face expressing the utmost disgust for the person before him.
Ashura grabbed Indra by the shirt and pulled him closer.
— You're satisfied, huh, with what you've done?! Scum.
Indra smelled strong alcohol; Ashura was drunk.
— You're nothing...
— What's this?
4o mini
Ashura's gaze fell on Indra's neck, which had been exposed more than usual when he grabbed him by the shirt.
He saw a thin, blood-red thread on his neck.
Ashura was stunned for a few seconds, his face expressing extreme confusion, and then that expression turned into a grimace of fury. His eyes filled with blood, and he almost bared his teeth like a wolf at its prey.
— How dare you wear this!
Ashura slapped Indra with all his strength, a blow so strong that Indra's head involuntarily turned towards the strike.
This slap was the most painful Indra had received that day, despite Ashura continuing to beat him for hours afterward. Truthfully, Indra lost track of time.
He lay on the sand, silently taking the blows from Ashura, trying not to make a sound.
He remembered the time when Ashura had given him this thread...
Indra stood in Ashura's room and looked at the setting sun on the horizon through a large window that opened onto a beautiful garden.
He saw his reflection in the window: a worried face with furrowed brows. He always made that expression when he was concerned and when he was alone with himself.
— So where's that idiot been wandering for so long?
Hearing footsteps, which he recognized among thousands, he sighed with relief and assumed his usual calm expression.
— So where did you get lost? — he asked, startled.
— Your partner said you came back from the forest three hours ago and that you were injured in a fight with the wolf of the god Shati.
— Indra, I'll explain everything, Ashura nervously said with an innocent smile.
— First, show me the wound, idiot, Indra said, approaching him.
— And while I treat you, tell me what happened.
— Oh, Indrushka, please don't treat me, Ashura said, stammering from fear, I'm fine.
— Idiot, Indra struck Ashura on the head.
— First of all, I told you not to call me that.
— And secondly, Indra struck again, probably to make sure Ashura would definitely learn to count to two.
— Their attacks are cursed, and if it's not removed, you'll fall into hibernation.
— Hibernation?!
— Hibernation sounded like something very unpleasant to Indra, rather repulsive.
— In short, and at your level of medical knowledge, you'll fall into a coma and never wake up. That's how the wolves of Shati preserve their food so it doesn't spoil, and then eat it when needed.
— Great Creator! Ashura exclaimed in horror.
— Indrushka, please remove this curse from me, you know how to do it, right?!
— I don't want to become food for wolves.
— Well, I don't know, Indra said with skepticism, should I save someone who can't even remember how to address me?
— Oh, great lord Indra, Ashura said, grabbing his hands and pleading, I'll remember everything and do everything as you say.
— Wow, looks like you really don't want to become food.
— Well, fine, I'll lift the curse, Indra said, it's no big deal, but I warn you, it will be more unpleasant than my treatment.
— Yes, even a hundred times worse, just treat me already!
— I already feel sleepy, and I'm a little cold.
— Oh, but I don't treat intrusive thoughts. For that, you should consult the followers of the God of Wisdom. The symptoms couldn't have appeared so quickly; for someone with a larger amount of strength, it would take a day or even two for symptoms to show.
— But you still treat me faster, what if I'm not a human, but a little fox?
— You're an idiot, Indra sighed and began to chant the spell:
I humbly call upon you, goddess, mother of all things,
Only in your name does darkness and filth disappear.
Great Eya, you who cast her into lower worlds and cleansed the abode of life,
Send forth your grace and touch with your holy hand
Your son, Ashura.
A large feminine hand, woven from a golden glow, appeared around Ashura and touched his forehead.
"Ashura, closed his eyes in anticipation of the cruel torture of pain," he thought, a pain that no one could ever properly describe in its essence, but those who had felt it after Indra's help all understood what was meant.
Ashura stood there for a long ten seconds, but the pain never came.
"What's wrong, Ashura? If you're feeling sleepy, you should lie down in bed instead of dozing off on your feet," Indra said sarcastically.
Ashura opened his eyes to see his friend's satisfied grin.
"You tricked me?!"
"Yep," Indra replied shamelessly.
"I'm going to…" Ashura started to move towards Indra, wiggling his fingers and hinting that he would tickle him. As their long friendship had shown, the only thing that could breach this impenetrable fortress was tickling.
"But I can heal you too," Indra noted, completely dousing Ashura's enthusiasm for further offensive actions.
"So where have you been all this time?"
"Ah," Ashura smiled.
"I was in the workshop."
"You were in the workshop?" Indra asked in surprise. "What were you doing there?"
Ashura looked at Indra seriously.
"You know, they say that the goddess of fate, Denatra, binds the destinies of those who carry a thread woven from the cocoons of scarlet butterflies—servants of the goddess. I found them in the forest. I was so happy that as soon as I returned, I immediately started spinning threads from them." Ashura pulled out two threads from the inner pocket of his cloak and held them out, showing them to Indra with a satisfied smile. Two blood-red threads, quite coarse, with many bumps along their length.
"Well, well," Indra drawled, "you're as much a spinner as I am a young maiden."
"What did you do to anger the goddess of art, Anena?"
"Alright then," Ashura said, pouting and offended.
"If you don't like them, I'll keep them for myself." He began to put the threads back into his pocket, but Indra grabbed his hand.
"No way, what can I do? I'll wear them so I don't forget what a crafty master you are."
"Oh, come on! I really tried!"
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry, Ashura. I appreciate your gift and will cherish it," Indra said seriously, looking into Ashura's eyes.
Ashura, flustered by the words, stared foolishly at Indra, and then, as if waking up, broke into a smile.
"Then give me your hand."
Indra extended his hand.
Ashura looked at it for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then began to wrap the thread around it, saying:
"I, Ashura of the Alatrix lineage, swear by my blood before the goddess Denatra and Indra of the Merdell clan, with a pure heart and without any intention of wrongdoing that would anger the goddess, to be a faithful friend and companion to Indra. I swear to cherish you and always act for your benefit. This is a symbol of the purity of my friendship!"
Indra listened to Ashura in awe. He had never seen this always cheerful and mischievous fool so serious. His voice was clear, and the words he spoke radiated a certain power.
Ashura finished wrapping the thread and tied a knot at the end, and only then did he lift his eyes to meet Indra's gaze.
A slight blush played on Ashura's cheeks, and he smiled widely at Indra.
"Here you go," he said, "that's what I wanted to do."
"Well, I guess I'll be going then," Ashura said after an awkward pause during which Indra stared at him blankly.
Ashura turned and had just taken a step when Indra grabbed him by the elbow.
"Wait. I should also make a vow; you have two threads, right?"
"You don't have to do that," Ashura said, not looking back and with a slight rasp in his voice.
"I know. But I want to do it."
"Really?" Ashura turned to Indra instantly, looking at him with genuine surprise. "Or are you just teasing me, Indra?"
Indra firmly grabbed Ashura's hand and pulled him closer; his grip was such that if Ashura wanted to run away, he would have to leave his hand behind.
Indra extended his open palm into the air.
Ashura looked at it.
"What?" he asked, clearly not getting it.
"The thread, you fool."
"Ahhh," Ashura smiled, but still didn't react.
Indra looked him in the face with a hint of threat.
"Ashura, did you happen to eat wild honey in the forest?"
"No, why?"
"Then why are you being so dense?"
"Hahaha!" Ashura blushed.
"Yes, I got it, I got it," and he handed him the thread.
Indra changed his grip on Ashura's hand, opened his fingers, and pressed down on Ashura's finger, making him do the same, and then intertwined their fingers, forming one large fist.
As he wrapped the thread, he began his vow:
"I, Indra of the Ardell lineage, swear before the goddess Denatra and Ashura of the Alatrix clan to be his shield and faithful friend, to do nothing that would displease the goddess, and to always think and act in a way that is best for Ashura, even if it harms me."
"What?!" Ashura muttered in surprise, still not fully grasping what Indra had just said, and then he tried to pull his hand away, but Indra's strong grip wouldn't let him.
"And I swear before my patroness, the goddess Eya, that I will fulfill my vow."
"No, Indra! What are you doing?!"
But Indra didn't listen. He skillfully wrapped the thread around Ashura's arm and managed to tie it with one hand. Only after that did he untangle their fingers.
"Indra, have you completely lost your mind?!"
"How can you make such vows? What do you mean, if it will harm you?!"
"And why did you swear to your patron goddess as well? That makes this vow a thousand times stronger and…"
Ashura's passionate speech was interrupted by a sudden glow from the threads. On Ashura's and Indra's arms, they burned with a blood-red light of mesmerizing beauty, illuminating the dim room with their glow.
"Indra, what have you done?!" Ashura mumbled in shock.
"Good night, Ashura," Indra said and left the room, leaving Ashura in complete bewilderment.
"Well, how long are you going to lie there?" Ashura kicked him again and asked.
"Answer me, you blasphemer!"
Indra lay with his eyes closed, thinking about the place he had ended up in and the friends he had left behind in the world of the living. He recalled the wonderful days spent with Ashura while he was busy finding new ways to make Indra suffer.
"Alright, I've had my fun for today. Wait for me tomorrow," Ashura said.
But suddenly, Indra felt the thread around his neck tighten. He instantly opened his eyes and looked at Ashura.
"You're not going to wear it," Ashura said.
"Don't you dare touch it!" Indra said with such intensity that Ashura faltered. He had never seen him like this. In that fierce gaze, he somehow saw pain. It was the first time Ashura had seen it on Indra's face. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he looked down at Indra and then released him, saying:
"Well, wear it then, to remember what a scoundrel you are for not keeping your vow."
"Don't drink anymore," Indra called after Ashura's retreating figure.
Ashura stopped but didn't turn around.
"You shouldn't drink, Ashura; your patron god doesn't approve of it."
"There are no gods here," Ashura spat and continued deeper into the forest.
In the following days, by Indra's calculations, Ashura didn't appear for five or six days. Indra continued to explore the island, venturing deep into the forest, trying to move silently to avoid wild animals or, once again, running into Ashura. It wasn't that he was avoiding him, but he didn't want to encounter him while he was scouting.
"Not a single living soul," Indra thought, looking around. "How eerie! It's so quiet here; only the sound of the waves can be heard from the shore if you listen closely. No birds singing, no buzzing of insects."
In the heart of the forest, Indra found a small rock with an entrance, concealed by a curtain of water created by a spring at its peak. The water that collected in the pool cascaded down in a small waterfall.
"How beautiful," Indra thought. "It would be more comfortable to live here." But he continued on his way and emerged on the other side, carrying various fruits and roots he recognized in a makeshift bag made from his shirt. He headed toward his spot on the beach.
Upon arriving, Indra settled onto the sand and began to unpack his haul, continuing to weave a basket from palm leaves that he had set aside before deciding to venture deeper into the island. As he wove the basket, he repeated the facts he had learned about this island.
"There's no one here except for him and Ashura."
"Time is stuck here for a few seconds, specifically eight, as he calculated while watching the waves and listening to the breeze."
Yet at the same time, it couldn't be said that he lived within those few seconds. It seemed that the flow of time on the island and his own time were not synchronized.
Again, after about 24 hours, the island rejuvenated: fruits and leaves he had picked appeared on the branches, but yesterday's ones didn't disappear. That's why he decided to start crafting various useful items, like a spoon from a tree root, the same basket, and bowls from coconut shells, because they remained untouched the next day. So, there were still many questions and inconsistencies.
"At least I don't have to worry about depleting the island's resources."
The same miraculous healing after sleep. He conducted experiments, cutting his hand with a knife several times and then going to sleep. After waking, the time he determined by the level of evaporation of water he had poured into a coconut bowl showed that whether it was an hour or two, the effect was the same. But the replenishment of the island's resources didn't apply: at one moment, he simply saw the same leaf grow before his eyes from the base of the palm tree he had cut a few hours earlier.
"Alright, I need to distract myself; otherwise, I'll go crazy from this monotonous time," Indra thought.
"I should at least try to say a prayer."
It would probably be better to start at the beginning and address the patron spirits.
Thus, the spirits that were under his command were the spirit of agriculture, Inar, and the spirit of the wind, Nika.
The spirit of the wind had a more peaceful nature, so it would be better to start with him.
"Oh, great soul, omnipresent wanderer, mischievous spirit of the wind, Nika, show your favor to me!"
This initial incantation to connect with the spirit was the simplest he could think of for his first attempt. Already not hoping for any effect, how amazed and happy Indra was when he felt a strong gust of wind in his face and heard a whisper in his ear:
"I hear you," came the voice of a small boy.
"Great worship to the primordial!"
With all due respect, Indra bowed his head, not wanting to upset the spirit that had answered his call.
"I am Indra of the Merdell clan, I only give you praise!"
In this way, Indra declared to the spirit that he would not ask him to do anything.
"Yes, one must be cautious with spirits. As easy as it is to summon them when they are favorable to you, they can be unpredictable and sensitive. So, it's best not to spoil the relationship with the spirit that is the only one to respond to my call."
But even this meant so much to Indra. For if a spirit had responded, it meant there was still some connection to the world of the living and that, in essence, he had his own magical powers. It also meant that there was still a possibility to influence this place.
Indra's logical mind, which loved to draw conclusions and build chains from them, was going wild. So many new variables and details were added.
He was so happy about this that when, after a few minutes, he saw the silhouette of Ashura emerging from the forest, he couldn't help but chuckle, imagining a scene in his head where he was the unfortunate wife, and her husband returned from the tavern completely drunk and began to beat her and blame her for all the world's sins. As absurd as that analogy was, it seemed so amusing to him. Apparently, the connection with the spirit had greatly lifted his spirits.
Indra sat and gazed at the sea, waiting for Ashura to approach him. He wanted to savor these seconds of joy before they were replaced by pain and humiliation, until Ashura grew tired of hitting him and became bored.
But when Ashura approached, he stood behind him without saying a word for a few minutes. They both looked at the sea horizon and the beautiful waves that had been performing the same dance for a month now.
Suddenly, Indra felt Ashura's strong hand on his head, pulling his hair and forcing him to lift his gaze.
"Hello, little fox," Indra said with a calm expression. Sensing that Ashura had loosened his grip, he returned his head to its normal position.
"What did you call me?"
But Indra didn't respond, continuing to stare silently ahead.
"I'm talking to you, you little brat!" Ashura barked, knocking Indra down onto the sand.
He sat on Indra's stomach, pinning his arms down with his legs.
"How dare you call me that?!"
Ashura shouted, punctuating his words with blows to Indra's face. One of the strikes split Indra's lip, and a thin stream of blood began to trickle down his neck.
This time, Indra didn't close his eyes; he simply turned his face to the side and continued to gaze at the sea.
Indra was drunk, and not just a little; it seemed he had figured out how to keep his drink in some other vessel, knowing it would refill to take a larger dose.
"Answer me! What did you call me?"
"I'll just cut off your head and bury it separately from the rest of your body. Let's see how you can resurrect then," Ashura said maliciously, pulling a sword from his cloak and drawing it from its sheath. He pressed it to Indra's throat. But Indra still continued to look at the sea, his gaze unwavering.
Ashura pressed the blade harder against Indra's throat, and a trickle of blood began to flow down.
"Repeat what you called me," he said, tightening his grip on the sword.
Indra slowly turned his head toward Ashura, deepening the wound, and stared intently into his eyes.
They held each other's gaze for a while. Suddenly, Ashura threw the sword from his hand and leaned down to Indra, roughly and shamelessly kissing him. Indra's eyes widened in shock, while Ashura began to grope Indra's body.
This was the breaking point. A volcano awakened within Indra, one that had been dormant for too long; all the accumulated resentment from pain and humiliation erupted. He threw Ashura off him and lunged at him, mercilessly striking. A primal roar erupted from Indra's throat, a sound of despair, pain, and resentment that had built up throughout his life.
Ashura froze in terror; his head cleared in an instant. No, he wasn't surprised by the pain, nor did he feel it much—being a skilled fighter, he was used to it.
The sound of despair and rage in Indra's voice sent chills and horror through Ashura's veins, reaching his heart and filling him with a terror he had never experienced and never thought he could feel in his life. It frightened him; he wanted to stand up and run away, to cover his ears and not hear that sound for another second, but he couldn't move—his paralysis only deepened. It felt as if he were falling into a bottomless cold abyss with no chance of escape.
"Stop, please, Indra, I beg you, stop! I understand, I understand everything!" The person in pain couldn't do what you did without an exceptional reason. There must be something I don't know, Ashura thought, feeling both relief and a nauseating disgust toward himself at the same time.
Ashura wanted to say a word, but he could do nothing but stare at Indra in horror.
This went on for no more than a minute, and then, for the first time in his life, Indra finally passed out.
"Indra!" The moment Indra stopped making a sound, blood began to flow through Ashura's veins again, and his heart started beating.
"Indra, wake up!" Ashura shook his limp body, trying to bring him back to consciousness.