For a moment, Ashan's eyes swirled with grayish-white spirals.
'What's happening?'
His vision darkened, replaced by a new scene.
He saw people running, screaming, fleeing an inferno. A whole district was consumed by orange-red fire, smoke blotting out a star-filled sky. Atop a burning building, a hooded figure stood, watching the destruction with golden-ember eyes.
The vision lasted a split second, then shattered like glass.
'What... was that? A premonition?'
He looked around. No one seemed to have noticed his lapse. The other children were still fixated on the Owl-Mask.
'Did I just hallucinate? Is my mind breaking?'
Then, a silent, emotionless voice whispered directly into his mind.
[ The individual "Ashan" has unlocked his Anupamah Siddhi "Viksana". ]
'What...? A voice? Is this it? My long-awaited system?'
Ashan tensed, searching for the source. 'System Activated! Open Status! Menu!' He threw silent commands at the void. Nothing responded.
'What the fuck? No system? Then what is an "Anupamah Siddhi"? "Viksana"?'
As the word 'Viksana' formed in his thoughts, his eyes tingled. A flood of details about the children around him drilled into his mind—subtle muscle tensions, minute shifts in posture, the rate of their breathing.
'Shit! Stop!' The influx was overwhelming, a rising headache pounding behind his eyes.
'Viksana!' he commanded inwardly. The flow of information ceased.
'If that kept up, my brain would have fried. Hope no one noticed.' He kept his face a stony mask, betraying nothing.
The Purple Owl-Mask's gaze swept over the children, a cold weight forcing heads down.
"The third and final trial: the Trial of Accepting Sins, begins now."
The air in the hall froze solid. A new wave of tension gripped the survivors.
'Accepting Sins? Another mental trial? I might have a chance. If it's another fight... my chances are slim. But I'll survive. I have to.'
He didn't have to wait long. The seven masked figures on the platform stepped forward, clasped their hands, and the very hall seemed to shudder. The atmosphere grew dark and sinister as seven spectrums of vibrant, dark aura wrapped around them.
Gold, Crimson, Ember, Blinding White, Green, Ash Gray, and deep Purple. These dark lights pulsed, making the air hum and the ground tremble.
The Purple Owl-Mask spoke, his voice resonating with power. "These lights represent the seven sins. You will be baptized by the color that matches your dormant sin, awakening it within you."
Shaa! Shaa! Bands of dark, vibrant light shot from the seven figures towards the children.
'Baptism? A ritual to be reborn in sin?'
Ashan's thought was cut short as a dark, golden light struck him.
'Ah! Fuck!'
His body jerked violently. This wasn't physical pain; it was an assault on his soul. His very being felt like it was being torn apart and reforged. Tears streamed from his hazel eyes unchecked.
'I want to die. Just let it end.'
The temptation to surrender was sweet. But then, a colder, harder thought surfaced.
'Don't fuck with me! I didn't survive two trials just to quit. Pain is nothing. If this is the price for power, for life, I'll pay it. I'll sacrifice anyone—even parts of myself—to live. I will live.'
As the pain subsided to a bearable throb, his vision shifted again. He was floating, naked, in an endless dark.
'Where the fuck am I now? And why am I naked?'
Hiss! Hiss!
A massive serpent, its scales shimmering like brass and gold, slithered through the void. It coiled around him, its immense aura oozing pure avarice. It lowered its head and licked his cheek with a long, forked tongue. Knowledge flooded into him.
"Avarice... Greed....Lobha? That's my sin?" He reached out and patted the serpent's head. It hissed in approval.
'Greed? Not sloth or envy? But... dormant greed. A greed for life. That's why I clung to a second chance. A greed for more life. For eternity.'
"I accept my dormant sin:Lobha!" Ashan declared.
The serpent nodded with its pale golden eyes and vanished.
Whoosh!
Ashan was back in his chair. The other children at his table were also stirring, many checking their right shoulders. Ashan looked at his own. There, inscribed on his upper shoulder, was a tattoo of a brass-golden serpent, tongue flickering.
'A cool tattoo, I guess. Always wanted one.' His pragmatic mind immediately moved to assess the situation. He scanned the hall.
The scene was morbid. Disgusting.
'So, this is failure.'
The children who had failed the trial were dead, their bodies grotesquely deformed into partial animal forms. Some were covered in brass scales, others sported goat or bull horns, thick bear-like fur, or owl feathers—a horrific mosaic of human and beast.
The dark rays of light had ceased.
The Purple Owl-Mask observed the carnage calmly. "The third trial is complete. Out of 350 candidates, 210 have passed. Congratulations."
'From a thousand to two hundred and ten. I should be happy I survived, but this feels less like a victory and more like qualifying for a longer, more dangerous hell.'
"Now," the old man said, "you deserve to know who will guide you on the path of Sadhana!" He, along with the other masked figures, removed their masks.
Gasps echoed. They were just people. Men and women, some young, some old.
The Purple Owl-Mask was an old man with dark brown hair neatly braided. His black eyes held ancient wisdom, his features sharp and somber. A zealous smile touched his lips.
"We are the Order of Arishadvarga—The House of Sins! By the blessing of the Lord and Lady Asuras we worship, you are granted the path of Sadhana!"
The crowd below the platform erupted in a fanatical chant.
"All Hail to the Lord of Pride!"
"All Hail to the Lord of Wrath!"
"All Hail to the Lord of Gluttony!"
"All Hail to the Lady of Lust!"
"All Hail to the Lord of Greed!"
"All Hail to the Lady of Envy!"
"All Hail to the Lord of Sloth!"
"You, poor lambs," the old man spread his arms wide, "allow us to show you the path to greatness. The path to the kingdoms of your Lord and Lady!"
The fanatical cries sent chilling goosebumps down the children's spines.
Ashan watched, his new eyes taking it all in. 'They say hell is empty and all the devils are here. They're wrong. Hell is overpopulated. That's why the devils had to emigrate.'