Every vikar had grown into a demon that fed on humanity. Kaam no longer whispered—it screamed in every screen, every ad, every lonely night. Krodh ruled the cities through riots and wars. Lobh devoured forests to print new currency. Moh made humans worship their captors. Ahankar made them believe they were free.
But Arivan had seen this before.
In visions.
In dreams.
In other lives.
He remembered his past roles: a protector in Atlantis, a seer during Mahabharata, a monk in the collapsing Rome. Each time, he tried to hold the world—but it slipped. Now, it was time to burn it clean.