Aman watched in horrified fascination as a vortex of nano-photons formed within the bunker filled with blood and death.

When he had come here, he had expected he might see some blood and violence as the druggies were arrested. Gun control was quite strict in India and even if they had guns by chance, Sushil and Ananya’s chauffeur had assured him that the most they would be homemade guns that shot buckshot.

Apparently, the two experts had Kevlar undergarments that were impervious to that level of projectile attack. Their physical quality was strong enough to withstand the blunt force trauma associated with that kind of scattershot without even flinching.

Even if they had somehow managed to procure effective guns, their reaction rates were fast enough to dodge faster than an average man could aim. Plus, they had guns of their own.

The most they were expecting was a token resistance before the capture.

A few punches, a few kicks, broken bones or at the most a bullet to the foot of someone especially stubborn.

But what Aman saw now…

Having lived in peace all his life he had never been exposed to such a bloody scene; such brutality.

Even in the monochrome, distorted perspective of his Divine Vision the scene looked like one straight out of hell.

His concentration broke from the shock and his technique dissipated. He reeled back in disgust, turning his head to the side, he retched.

“What happened!?” Ananya asked, concerned.

After emptying the contents of his stomach, Aman shakily rasped out, “C-all them! Tell them to hurry up! Bose is insane! He’s killing them! He’s killing people in there!”

“What!” Ananya exclaimed in disbelief. “What do you mean? How do you know!?”

“Talk later! Just do it please!” shouted Aman as he forced his nausea down and reactivated Divine Vision.

As his other senses faded, his perception of his queasy stomach did too.

This time, he was more prepared for the gruesome sight.

As he zoomed into the scene with Nama’s help, he noticed the bloody pentagram surrounding the man and the vortex of souls surrounding him.

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‘What is he doing?’ he thought to Nama.

[I have no idea but it seems like some sort of summoning ritual. That pentagram is one of the most common symbols for demon summoning.]

‘Summoning? But what could he summon? And is he insane!? Sacrificing humans!’

[I do not claim to have any knowledge of his mental state but purely from the standpoint of practicality, the procedure he is following is quite feasible.]

‘What!’

[Those people that are bleeding out are soul cultivators… the density of the nano-photons they are giving out on their death wouldn't be that high otherwise. The way he is going about it, he does have the possibility of succeeding.]

[Using the festival to concentrate the faith of the public thereby solidifying the Dreamland. Using the death throes of soul cultivators to produce a channel to the Dreamland. The most intriguing part about his process is that pentagram… it is somehow stabilizing the channel to the Dreamland. The nano-photons are reacting to it. How curious.]

‘Don’t admire him! What he is doing is disgusting… but what is he summoning anyway?’

Aman shifted his vision. With how close the Dreamland and reality was within the bunker, he could keep a fuzzy eye on both. It was like looking at a 3D movie without the polarizing glasses.

Within the Dreamland, the fight between the Devi and the demon had reached its climax. Mahishasura’s head in his buffalo form had been chopped off. Even as his blood soaked the land he made to lunge towards the Goddess as he always did.

But right before he made his move, a vortex opened by his side. The demon halted in his tracks as he turned around and studied the portal, his eyes glowing an evil red.

Aman shuddered. How was that possible? Wasn’t the demon just an idea given form? Shouldn’t the events play out according to a script. It should be a mindless construct, right?

Then, why did it seem so sentient?

Noticing that her blow hadn’t killed the demon, the Devi brought down her kharga towards him in a slash that rent the air of the Dreamland with its power.

Shooting a glance towards her, Mahishasura seemed to smirk before leaping into the vortex.

Unfortunately, the vortex was too frail to support the entirety of the demon and collapsed even as its head and shoulders entered the portal.

At the same time, the Devi’s weapon landed on his body, cleaving him in half.

Roaring in pain and rage, the part of the asura that had entered the vortex stretched and distorted as it, along with the vortex swirled and entered Bose’s body.

A sense of incongruity hit Aman. It was as if he had suddenly forgotten the name of something familiar.

This sense of incongruity wasn’t limited solely to him… apparently everyone present felt it.

The purohit in the pandal faltered in his chants.

The drummers missed a beat.

The dancers faltered, one woman spilling some of the embers on herself initiating a bit of panic as people rushed to douse the flames with a bucket of water nearby.

Confusion spread like ripples through the entire crowd as they scratched their head at the sudden strange feeling.

Unnoticed by everyone present, the face of the idol of Mahishasura fissured on a microscopic level.

Within the bunker, Bose screamed as he clutched his head as an indescribable agony assaulted him.

He writhed around on the floor groaning in pain. The lights within the bunker flickered until they extinguished plunging the place into darkness.

His struggles slowly reduced in intensity, until they ceased.

When he opened his eyes, they glowed red in the dark.