Two men stepped forward from the ranks, lowering themselves into a deep bow.
One spoke in a steady, gravel-thick voice, "Order…"
The other's eyes burned like a smouldering forge as he finished the command:
"Annihilation of them. No mercy. Today, either their heads will fall, or our souls will burn in the heavens. There is no third path."

The declaration rippled through the ranks like a shockwave. A chorus of warriors bellowed in unison, "Yes!"

Almost as if the earth itself heard and answered the call, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Pebbles rattled, banners quivered, and a low, deep rumble built into a violent quake. Out of the shaking haze, shapes began to form—towering, monstrous shapes.

They emerged from the dust with grotesque clarity: two demons, each as tall as the fortress walls. Their heads were that of massive boars—snouts curled, tusks jutting like ivory spears, jaws lined with teeth made for grinding bone. Their bellies hung heavy and swollen like they carried the weight of a hundred devoured men. Yet their hair was strange—thick, curled, and serene like the locks of an ancient Buddha, a disturbing mockery of peace. In each hand, they wielded spiked clubs as long as ships' masts, the iron studs glinting wickedly under the sealed dome's pale blue light.

They were the Māṁsajīvin—flesh-born demons of legend—beings whose raw power rivalled even the White Tiger Guardian Seal itself.

The commander's gaze narrowed. "How much time until all civilians are inside the dome?" he barked.

A runner, panting hard, skidded to a stop before him. "Everyone is inside, sir!"

The commander's reply came as a roar. "Then fight to the death! Sibon! Nibon! You will take those two down—whatever it costs. Do not let them near the gate! If they reach it, the front will fall in seconds!"

"Yes, sir!" the two warriors replied, their voices like thunder, before charging toward the looming demons.

Turning back to the remaining soldiers, the commander's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"Archers! Increase your pace! Use every arrow you have, then fall back! Once your quivers are empty, be ready with your swords!" His tone hardened, each word hammered with finality. "This will be our victory—or our death. There is no losing in war. March forward like men already dead, who have nothing left to lose!"

The archers roared back their acknowledgment, their hands working feverishly. The air became thick with the hiss of bowstrings and the shriek of arrows cutting through the sky. In minutes, the quivers were emptied, the final volleys raining down like a storm of steel. Without hesitation, they retreated to the front lines, gripping sword hilts, their eyes locked on the advancing shadows of the Māṁsajīvin.

From behind, another voice rang out, hesitant but desperate. "Sir… can we use the White Tiger Annihilation Beam?"

The commander's head snapped toward him, rage flashing in his eyes. "Did I ask you to talk!?"

The man flinched as if struck. "Sorry, sir! Sorry—I am sorry for my voice!"

The commander turned away, refocusing on the front, but the man, face unreadable, took one slow step backward. Then another. No one noticed. His voice dropped to a whisper so faint it was softer than a mosquito's wingbeat.

"He he… today… only destruction will remain."
The whisper turned into a twisted chuckle. "Ha… ha… haaa…"

What waited in his shadow; betrayal or something far worse...

.......................................

........................................

The wind outside groaned like something alive.

"Granny… what was that sound?"

Someone stepped closer, their shadow stretching in the dim light, and reached out to touch her face. Their voice trembled.

"What happened to your face?"

Granny did not move.

"Shouldn't we check outside?" another whispered. "Granny, what is that voice?"

Some of them had already started to get up, feet scraping against the floorboards, but before they could reach the door, her voice rang through the air.

"Gods… deities… demons… nagas… they all went for it once. They found it, too. But it pulled them in—sucked them into something far beyond what any of them could hold, something none could comprehend."

Her voice lowered, as if each word carried weight too heavy for the air.

"They could not grasp it… so they turned away. They said, 'It's a secret. It must be kept hidden.'"

She paused. The shadows in the corners seemed to grow.

"But demons…" she went on, "demons will never let go. They will do anything to take it."

Her eyes glimmered in the faint light, the pupils sharp and strange.

"Remember this—" she hissed, "we are the embodiment of demon and god. And the others… all the other species… they came from there."

A chill spread through the room. The name she spoke next slipped out like a cold whisper in the dark.

Nirbindra.

The name felt like a flame in a void, but no warmth came from it. Instead, the flame was smothered before it could light, swallowed by the dark.

"It means," Granny muttered, "it will not come today."

One of them stood abruptly.

"Granny, stop! We don't understand what you're talking about. We're going to see what's outside."

But before they could move further, another asked—

"Granny… what was that scream earlier?"

Her voice changed. It was heavier now, almost breaking under something ancient.

"It is rising…" she whispered. "The Eye… the Eye of Destruction… it is rising. No one can escape it. It will hunt us down. Because it is sealed, those who hear it will be drawn to it… begging for their own annihilation."

Someone swallowed hard.

"Granny… are the gods and deities coming for us? Are they real? Or are you just trying to scare us?"

Silence.

The only sound was the slow, uneven breathing in the room. Granny did not answer.

The silence was thicker than the air in the room.

Then, from the window, a shift in the light.

Just before, the silver moon had been bathing the trees in pale calm. But now, from that same window, came a deep, pulsing red.

And then they saw it.

In that crimson glow, a face—huge, impossibly huge—staring at them.

Two meters high.

One half was a beautiful woman, skin like polished bronze, lips curved in a serene smile. The other half…

An old hag, her skin sagging and melting like wax, sliding off the bone.

Where beauty met rot, the flesh warped, and her bluish-pink eyes glimmered with an otherworldly hunger.

Her neck stretched unnaturally, bending away from her body in a grotesque angle, twisting like a serpent searching for prey.

She leaned closer, slowly, slowly towards them.

Her hand—long, thin, with fingernails like sharpened ivory, slid into view, reaching toward the window.

The firelight caught the surface of her skin, and they saw the scales. Around her eyes, thick, uneven scales glistened wetly, and from between those scales, eyes burst open.

Dozens.

Each one blinking, darting in all directions, pupils sharp and thin as a predator's.

Then her mouth opened.

From deep within, past her jagged yellow teeth, another eye gazed out—red, gleaming, unblinking. The same red as the light outside.

It was like the moon's reflection.

The sight pulled the breath from their lungs.

She smiled, and her long, split tongue slid out like a serpent tasting the air. Water—thick, dark—dripped from its tip, falling in slow drops that steamed when they hit the floor.

What was walking among them.

A frail old woman?A deity?A monster?Or something that should never exist…

To be continued...