The world had decided Karna must die.
Every race rose. Humans, elves, dwarves, angels, and even minor demigods—all marched with intent to kill him. Weapons glowed with runes, spells hissed in the air, and monsters from deep beneath the earth clawed their way to the surface. The sky shimmered red and violet, a chaotic storm of mana, thunder, and divine judgment.
Karna stood at the center. His cloak fluttered. His eyes, calm and cold, surveyed the endless sea of enemies. Not a word, not a movement, only a faint sigh.
The humans attacked first. Spears, swords, blades glowing with blood-pact enchantments, pierced the air like a tidal wave. Archers unleashed volleys of enchanted arrows that bent through space, meant to strike his heart from impossible angles. Mages slammed staves to the ground, summoning balls of fire that vaporized entire city blocks in an instant.
Elves responded, forest and sky as one. Roots as thick as towers erupted, trying to trap him; arrows bent around laws of reality, seeking vulnerabilities in his body. Dwarves unleashed siege engines, mountains splitting into massive cannons firing beams that could annihilate continents. Angels descended in perfect formation, lances of light extending to pierce the sky, while their wings churned the wind into deadly tornadoes of holy energy.
Karna moved.
The moment intent crossed into harm, reality itself bent to him. Every weapon that swung, every arrow that flew, every spell that sought him unraveled in midair. Roots turned to dust before touching him. Cannons collapsed into harmless stone. Angels screamed as their divine authority fractured around him.
And then he walked into them.
No explosion. No roar. Just movement. Each step erased knights mid-stride, blades rusted in their hands, life extinguished before fear could even form. Elves fell in perfect halves as arrows disintegrated mid-flight. Dwarven cannons shattered from within. Angels were thrown from the sky as if tossed aside by the universe itself.
The battlefield became a blood-soaked wasteland, rivers of red flowing across ruined earth, broken forests, collapsed cities, and shattered mountains. Karna's robes, his body, his hair—dripping with the blood of every soldier, knight, elf, dwarf, angel—none of it his own. His expression remained calm, almost detached, as though observing a storm rather than creating one.
Nothing alive remained. Nothing moved. Even the wind seemed afraid to stir.
Karna did not stop. He raised his gaze skyward, searching for the one he wanted.
And he found him.
Indra. King of angels. Perverse, arrogant, unbending. Karna's jaw tightened. Without hesitation, he launched himself across the sky, faster than sound, faster than the eyes could track. Lightning arced around him, fire and shattered earth trailing in his wake.
Indra raised his own hands, summoning Divine Wrath: Celestial Execution, bolts of light striking like meteors. Karna dodged, but barely; every strike split mountains, turned skies red, and left craters the size of cities.
Then Karna collided with Indra. The impact was cataclysmic. Mountains shattered under their force, oceans trembled, and the winds howled with unbridled fury. Karna's strikes were relentless: Shiva Aspect — Rudra's Inevitable Destruction sliced through divine shields, Brahma Aspect — Genesis Severance rewrote reality around each blow, and Vishnu Aspect — Law Neutrality negated every attack Indra tried to land.
Indra's own son-like strength could not match Karna's fury. For a long, brutal battle, he was beaten, thrown across floating platforms, his pride shattered. Every strike from Karna left Indra bleeding, broken, humiliated—a king reduced to a desperate survivalist.
Karna's voice thundered:
"You will die. You, and everyone who allowed her death!"
The heavens trembled. Gods, angels, demigods, and mortals watched in horror. The power Karna wielded was beyond reckoning, a force they recognized as their own yet feared more than death itself.
Finally, divine intervention arrived. Supreme beings descended, their presence folding reality itself to shield Indra. Karna roared in rage and swung at them. They could not kill him—he was like their own son. They shouted:
"Without Indra, the dimensions themselves will collapse! You have your revenge—leave him!"
But Karna did not listen. His anger burned brighter than any sun, his desire for justice eclipsing reason. With a final, reluctant decision, the supreme beings raised their hands and invoked the Soul Transfer. Light enveloped Karna.
The world, rivers, mountains, cities—all vanished from his sight. His consciousness surged through space and time as reality pulled him away.