The sky turned into hues of purple and blue as the last rays of the sun blended into the horizon, twilight taking over the day. Svetavastra stood firm at the foothills of the Northern Mines. The Luminous Diksuchi’s gemstones all turned black indicating unknown energy. Svetavastra tightened the grip on the celestial sword that glowed golden. The legion of undead corpses moved forward like an unrelenting wave of rot and decay surrounded by a dark swirling miasma. Their movements were jerky and unnatural as if channelled into motion by the miasma.

A sharp pain seized Svetavastra, he staggered catching his head with one hand while balancing himself with the sword. He saw visions from his past of a similar march of the undead towards him.

“Have I fought these kind of undead corpses before?” Svetavastra asked the preta.

“Yes, your eminence,” replied the preta. “The first time I met you, you obliterated a whole army of undead corpses into thin air.”

“Were the corpses possessed by pretas also at that time?” said Svetavastra.

The preta thought for a while.

“I’m not sure,” he said finally. “They had the same dark energy as these ones but I don’t know if the corpses were possessed by the pretas. There was a rakshasa too at that time, you spared the rakshasa and said something like he was a puppet.”

“Hmm,” said Svetavastra and flicked his hand to form a transparent barrier around to make his energy go undetected by the undead corpses. He moved forward toward the undead corpses and observed them in detail. As soon as the barrier masked Svetavastra’s spiritual energy, the undead corpses instead of marching towards him felt disoriented for a bit and then started to go radially outward in all directions.

Svetavastra jumped into the air and watched them for a few moments. From his point of view, the undead corpses were like black dots with circulating dark energy around them spreading their reach.

What if these undead corpses are acting as carriers of the dark energy? Thought Svetavastra. The pretas are not this-worldly, so while their powers can be manipulated, the dark energy cannot be spread through them.

As Svetavastra was forming this hypothesis, some of the undead corpses started channeling the demonic energy of the pretas within and started to turn grotesque similar to the rogue pretas that went after the merchants from a previous incident. Svetavastra noticed this and immediately removed his barrier and got back to the ground. Sensing Svetavastra’s energy the undead corpses at once turned around and rushed towards Svetavastra in speed craving to gorge on his pure energy.

Just as I thought, the pretas can use their powers through the undead corpses, thought Svetavastra.

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From a large crevice in the Northern Mines, Aryaman watched the unfolding scene of the undead attacking a blind young man clad in white. Aryaman was too stunned to move, too stunned to react in any way. It was the first time, he saw the true form of the sword he owned. It was the first time, he saw the undead corpses whose investigation he headed personally. And it was the first time, he saw spiritual power being used as bait.

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In the depths of her crystal cave, Lady Visha’ra sat upon her dais of translucent quartz. In the dim glow of the subterranean realm, her coiled serpentine tail shimmered blue and green. She watched the happenings near Northern Mines on Bhu-loka from a mirror-like surface near her.

Who is this blind cultivator? She thought to herself, while Svetavastra wielded the daityahan asi, the sword that could slay demons at the undead corpses. As the sword plunged into the corpses one after the other, the pretas from them escaped into the air and started swarming into a whirlpool above Svetavastra’s head.

He figured out how I manipulated the ley lines and hid the pretas into them, Lady Visha’ra thought as a worrying crease appeared on her beautiful forehead. He seems to have realised that the corpses are needed to spread the dark energy.

Svetavastra at this time was in the air, with the pretabandana opened to trap the rogue pretas.

“Every attempt thwarted,” she hissed in anger, her voice echoing off the walls. For a short period, she got up and slithered back and forth the cave. “….A mere cultivator with questionable spiritual power…,” she kept muttering to herself, “……blind on top of that…but sees more than what most see with their eyes wide open…”

Around her, the air pulsed with the cold energy of khaluk, the dark miasma she yearned to spread across Bhu-loka.

“How do I deal with you?” She hissed softly, her forked tongue coming out. A sliver of a smile curled her lips, her next move already taking shape in her mind.

“This is just the beginning, young cultivator,” she said to the mirror, her voice calm and clear. “The next time won’t be this easy.”

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Within the shadowed confines of his chamber, King Nahusha sat motionless, his presence barely acknowledged by the vigilant guards outside. The only sound penetrating the thick stone walls was the low murmur of voices, the guards exchanging gossip to pass the time. Their conversation, usually of little interest, suddenly veered into a territory that piqued the old man's curiosity

"You heard about the cultivator Svetavastra?" one guard asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

"The blind one clad in white?" replied the other, his tone laden with skepticism.

“Yes, yes, that one,” said the first guard. “He saved a couple of merchants from the horde of the undead. Waved his hands and poof! The creatures turned to dust!” He gestured with his hands to illustrate the point.

A cultivator? He thought. Would General Pushya have heard of this?

The old man moved a little closer to the wall to hear them better. Guards gossip, they embellish things turning modest acts into exuberant feats of achievement. He accounted for that. Yet something about this unknown cultivator sparked a flicker of hope in him.

"Poof, you say?" the skeptical guard chuckled. "Sounds more like hogwash to me.”

“Mark my words,” said the first guard, “this cultivator is the real deal. They’ll say, he even summoned a celestial sword!”

The old man leaned back, allowing the guards' laughter and the tale of Svetavastra's valour to fill the room.

Maybe, there is still hope, he thought to himself.