Chapter 158: Chapter 156: Vision Of Destruction... System Task... Indra’s Instinct...
(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...
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The old woman pointed toward the vast flower fields surrounding Mallikavana.
The fields stretched far beyond what the eye could see.
White jasmine.
Golden marigolds.
Blue lilies.
Pink lotuses.
Flowers of countless varieties swayed gently beneath the afternoon breeze.
"You see these flowers?"
Devara nodded his head going with the flow.
-Nod!
"We do."
The old woman looked toward the distant hills visible on the horizon.
Then lowered her voice.
"A very long time ago..."
The children immediately moved closer.
"...before my grandfather’s grandfather was even born..."
"...this region was not peaceful."
The atmosphere around them slowly changed.
Even Shakuni became interested seeing there seems to be a interesting.
"...."
The old woman continued.
"There was once an asura."
"A terrible one."
"A powerful one."
The villagers listening nearby became silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Every one of them knew the tale.
Yet hearing it again still brought chills.
"They say his name was Pushpasura."
The name itself sounded strange.
Almost harmless.
Yet the old woman’s face showed no amusement.
"He was not called that because he loved flowers."
Her voice lowered.
"He earned that name because entire gardens died wherever he walked."
The children immediately looked frightened.
The old woman nodded.
"According to the stories, he grew so powerful that even the heavens trembled."
"He gathered strength for centuries."
"Defeated celestial warriors."
"Conquered divine realms."
"And eventually..."
She paused to let her word sink.
"...he defeated Lord Indra."
Several children gasped.
Even though they had heard the story before.
The old woman continued.
"They say Indra’s court fell."
"The celestial assembly scattered."
"The heavens themselves became unsafe."
Shakuni raised an eyebrow.
"That powerful?"
The old woman nodded her head grimly.
-Nod!
"That powerful."
"But power often breeds arrogance."
Devara smiled slightly.
That sounded familiar.
The old woman continued.
"The asura believed nobody could stop him."
"So Lord Vishnu devised another path."
The villagers immediately nodded.
Every version of the story eventually led here.
"He was not defeated through battle."
"He was not slain."
"He was not imprisoned."
The old woman pointed upward.
"He was tricked."
The children immediately laughed.
One of them asked,
"How?"
The old woman grinned.
"That part changes depending on who tells the story."
The children groaned.
"It does!"
The old woman laughed.
"Some say Lord Vishnu appeared as a wandering sage."
"Others say a celestial musician."
"A few claim he appeared as a beautiful storyteller."
"But every version ends the same."
She lowered her voice dramatically.
"The asura was lured into a magical sleep."
"A sleep so deep that even centuries felt like moments."
The children listened with wide eyes.
The old woman pointed toward the earth beneath their feet.
"And according to our ancestors..."
"...he still sleeps."
That immediately made several children look down.
One even lifted his feet slightly.
The old woman chuckled.
"Not directly beneath us."
"Far below the hills."
"Inside ancient caverns."
"Deep within the earth."
The villagers listening nearby nodded solemnly.
Devara noticed something.
Unlike many legends, these villagers genuinely believed this story.
Not blindly. But sincerely.
The old woman continued.
"After the asura was put to sleep, the sages who lived here received a vision."
"A warning."
The atmosphere grew serious again.
"The asura would continue sleeping only as long as certain flowers bloomed above the land."
Shakuni exchanged a glance with Devara.
Now things were becoming interesting.
"The fragrance of those flowers keeps his dreams peaceful."
The old woman pointed toward the surrounding fields.
"So generation after generation..."
"...the people of Mallikavana cultivated flowers."
"Not for wealth."
"Not for beauty."
"But to ensure he never awakens."
The wind gently rustled through the flower fields.
For a brief moment, the story felt strangely real.
The old woman continued.
"Over time the tradition spread."
"Other villages joined."
"Then entire regions."
"Eventually King Padmanabha’s ancestors created the Pushpotsava Mahamaham."
"The festival became a celebration."
"But its purpose remained the same."
She looked toward the sea of flowers surrounding the village.
"As long as the flowers bloom..."
"As long as their fragrance fills the air..."
"The asura sleeps peacefully."
The children immediately looked toward the distant hills.
One whispered nervously.
"What happens if he wakes up?"
The old woman smacked the back of his head lightly.
"Then you’ll finally have an excuse for avoiding your chores."
The crowd burst into laughter.
The tension disappeared instantly.
Yet Devara remained thoughtful.
Because he had noticed something.
The old woman had told the story as a legend.
The villagers treated it as tradition.
But certain details... The details felt familiar.
Too familiar.
The sort of story that often contained a grain of truth buried beneath centuries of retelling.
Beside him, Shakuni quietly noticed the same thing.
The minister leaned slightly closer.
"You’re thinking about it."
Devara smiled turning to look at him with a amused look.
"Aren’t you?"
Shakuni sighed feeling something is about to happen.
"Unfortunately."
The old woman looked at them curiously.
"You two don’t believe the story?"
Devara immediately smiled.
"Oh, I believe every story contains a truth."
The old woman nodded approvingly.
"A wise answer."
The king simply smiled.
Because somewhere deep in his mind... A small voice whispered something.
Guru Durvasa had sent him here.
A mysterious sage lived here.
An ancient legend surrounded this village.
And now a festival connected to that legend was about to begin.
Somehow...
He doubted any of those things were unrelated.
The conversation slowly drifted toward other topics.
The villagers began discussing preparations for the upcoming Pushpotsava Mahamaham.
Some spoke about flower arrangements.
Others discussed decorations for the royal family’s arrival.
Children argued about which flowers would win the competition.
The elderly grandmother eventually stood up and returned to preparing evening tea.
Life in Mallikavana gradually returned to normal.
At least on the surface.
Devara remained seated outside the house.
His gaze wandered across the vast flower fields surrounding the village.
Under the evening sun, the blossoms looked almost magical.
White jasmine stretched across entire sections of land.
Golden marigolds swayed gently in the breeze.
Rows of lilies painted the landscape with brilliant colors.
Butterflies drifted lazily from flower to flower.
The fragrance carried by the wind was calming.
Peaceful.
For several moments Devara simply admired the view.
Then—His body suddenly stiffened.
The smile vanished from his face.
"...."
His green pupils contracted.
The world around him disappeared.
Not physically.
Only from his perception.
A vision had seized him.
The beautiful flower fields vanished.
Replaced by fire.
Endless fire.
Flames raced across the landscape like hungry beasts.
Entire fields burned.
Thousands upon thousands of flowers turned to ash.
Black smoke rose toward the heavens.
The fragrance of flowers was replaced by the smell of destruction.
The sky itself seemed darker.
Unnatural.
The earth trembled.
Villagers ran through the burning fields.
Some screamed. Some prayed.
Others simply stared in horror.
Then the shadow appeared.
At first it looked like a mountain.
A massive silhouette standing beyond the burning horizon.
Then it moved.
The ground shook.
The fires seemed smaller in comparison.
The shadow slowly rose higher.
Higher. Higher.
Until it towered above everything around it.
Even from a distance, its presence felt oppressive.
Ancient. Malevolent.
As though something that should have remained buried had finally awakened.
The burning fields illuminated only parts of its form.
Yet that alone was enough.
Gigantic horns.
Massive shoulders.
Eyes glowing like molten embers.
And a smile. A terrible smile.
The kind that belonged to a creature that knew destruction was inevitable.
The shadow took a step forward.
The earth cracked.
Another step.
The sky darkened further.
Then—The vision shattered.
Devara’s eyes snapped back into focus.
"...."
The flower fields returned.
The peaceful village remained exactly as before.
The breeze still carried the scent of blossoms.
Birds still sang.
Children still played nearby.
Nobody had noticed anything.
Nobody except Devara.
For several moments he remained silent.
His expression unreadable.
Shakuni noticed immediately.
The minister had spent enough years around Devara to recognize when something was wrong.
"What happened?"
Devara didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes remained fixed on the distant flower fields.
Then he slowly shook his head.
"Nothing yet."
The answer only increased Shakuni’s suspicion.
Before he could ask another question—
[-DUM!-DUM!-]
A familiar sound echoed inside Devara’s mind.
The unmistakable notification tone of the system.
It had been silent for several days.
Now it had returned.
A translucent screen appeared before him.
Only he could see it.
[Emergency Karma Task Detected]
[Task Name: The Sleeper Beneath the Blossoms
Description:
An ancient asura sealed beneath the lands of Mallikavana is approaching awakening.
The flower fields cultivated throughout generations serve as a natural seal that suppresses its consciousness.
Unknown forces have begun interfering with that seal.
Prevent the awakening.
If awakened, defeat the asura.
Task Difficulty: Variable
Current Threat Level: Hidden
Rewards:
• 1500 Karma Points
• Special Ability Reward
• Ability Rank and Type will evolve according to task completion quality
• Additional rewards may be unlocked
Failure Condition:
Mass casualties.
Destruction of Mallikavana.
Awakening of the sealed asura.
The screen lingered before him.
Then another line appeared.
One that immediately caught his attention.]
[Warning!!!]
[This task is connected to a future karmic chain.
Actions taken during the Flower Festival will influence later events.]
The notification slowly faded.
Leaving Devara staring silently at the horizon.
A future karmic chain.
The system rarely used those words.
Which meant whatever was about to happen was larger than a simple village incident.
Much larger.
Nearby, Shakuni folded his arms.
"You got that look."
Devara smiled slightly.
"What look?"
"The one that usually appears before something troublesome happens."
The minister narrowed his eyes.
"And whenever that look appears, I somehow end up involved."
Devara laughed but his tone was was felt like something is missing.
"You give yourself too much credit."
"That isn’t reassuring."
"It wasn’t meant to be."
Shakuni sighed deeply.
-Sigh!
"....."
The response alone confirmed his suspicion.
Something had happened.
Something Devara wasn’t ready to discuss yet.
The king slowly looked toward the endless flower fields once more.
The villagers saw beauty.
Tradition.
Celebration.
A festival.
But now he had seen something else.
Fire. Destruction.
Awaits them.
And a shadow large enough to darken the sky itself.
Somewhere beneath those flowers... Something was sleeping.
And if the vision was true... It would not remain asleep forever.
Far above the mortal realm...
Beyond the clouds.
Beyond the stars visible to human eyes.
Beyond the paths travelled by celestial beings.
Amaravati...
The magnificent city of Amaravati shone with divine radiance.
The capital of Indraloka remained as grand as ever.
Golden palaces floated among clouds.
Celestial gardens bloomed endlessly.
Rivers of pure light flowed through the heavenly city.
Music echoed throughout the realm.
Apsaras danced.
Gandharvas sang.
The heavens appeared peaceful.
Yet inside the royal palace of the Devas...
Something felt wrong.
Indra sat upon his throne.
A golden goblet filled with soma rested in his hand.
The king of the gods had been enjoying a rare peaceful afternoon.
No demons attacking. No sages cursing him.
No asuras invading heaven. No embarrassing incidents.
Life had been surprisingly pleasant lately.
Especially after he had decided to keep a very low profile.
Ever since the revelation regarding Devaratha’s true origin.
The memory alone made him uncomfortable.
The son of the Trimurti.
Just remembering it caused Indra to sit a little straighter.
Fortunately, he had avoided creating any unnecessary problems since then.
Everything had been going well.
Until now.
Suddenly...
Indra stopped drinking.
His hand froze midway.
A strange sensation crawled up his spine.
The goblet slowly lowered.
His cheerful expression disappeared.
For several moments he simply sat there.
Silent.
"...."
Frowning.
Something felt wrong. Very wrong.
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(Author note:)
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Don’t forget to review guys...
Guys I have a new fic which named: Karuppan: King of Openings.
