Silence lingered in the room like smoke after fire.
Dirga sat still, processing the weight of everything Sasa had just laid out.
The hierarchy of Hell.
The rules of the Tournament.
The chance to save Naya—through blood, through war.
He exhaled slowly, then nodded.
"Alright. So... we train."
His voice was calm. Focused. Steeled like a blade freshly sharpened.
Sasa grinned from across the room, lounging on the sofa like a cat in a throne.
"Yes, yes, wonderful~" he chimed.
"Starting tomorrow, we begin. I’ll need at least one full week from you. No distractions. No running around like a salaryman."
His tone dropped an octave—just slightly.
"The first lesson is the hardest. Most never make it past it. If you do... well, then you’re actually worth betting on."
Dirga’s gaze narrowed.
Sasa seemed to think for a moment—dramatic as always, fingers tapping his chin.
"You’ve already been doing the hardest part. Unconsciously. This is just... formalizing it."
Dirga gave a slow nod, then pulled out his phone. He typed a quick message to Lilith:
"Unavailable this week. Don’t contact unless urgent. Handle the board. —Dirga"
Sasa watched him with a glimmer in his eye.
"Good boy. Obedient little king."
"So where exactly are we training?"
Sasa stretched out across the sofa like he was settling in for a vacation.
"Here. I’m moving in."
He kicked off his shoes with a grin.
"This couch will be my nest. Don’t worry — I don’t snore. Much."
Sasa flipped onto his side and yawned.
"This form burns through a lot of energy. Especially when I suppress the rabbit head. So yes, I sleep. I dream. Sometimes I drool. Want a picture?"
Dirga rolled his eyes and stood, heading for his bedroom.
"Wake me when the apocalypse starts."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Sasa remained sprawled on the sofa, eyes half-lidded, whispering something in a language that didn’t belong to Earth.
Outside, the moon shifted behind clouds.
And somewhere in the depths of the city,
something heard the call.
The morning came fast.
Dirga rose with a clear mind. No press. No pretense. Just anticipation. The storm of the press conference, the weight of Sasa’s truth — all of it had sharpened his resolve instead of wearing it down.
Today was the first step.
He washed up, pulled on simple athletic wear, and stepped into the living room.
Sasa was already there.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the TV, grinning like a man watching his favorite soap opera. Onscreen, brightly colored cartoon animals screamed at each other over an explosion of magical nonsense.
"Earth’s entertainment is... astonishing," Sasa mused without looking up.
"You humans may be the most advanced race in the multiverse—when it comes to wasting electricity."
"You’ve been watching cartoons all night?"
"Why not? Fiction is often more honest than reality."
He turned, sharp-eyed and smiling.
"Sleep well? I didn’t disturb you, I hope?"
"You didn’t. Let’s start."
"Ooooh, I love that fire. Yes, yes—flame on, my dear Patron."
With a flick of his finger—
The room melted away like wax in a furnace. In a blink, the apartment was gone. Replaced.
Dirga stood in a space without end.
A cold wind brushed past him. There was no visible source. No sun. No ground, and yet he stood on something — a pale, ashen floor that extended infinitely in all directions. The air was heavy. Thick. As if the dimension itself was watching him.
Above, there was no sky. Just... darkness. A void that felt not empty, but full.
Full of something ancient.
Sasa appeared beside him like a shadow pulled forward from the edge of thought.
"Welcome to my realm," he said casually.
Dirga took a breath. It tasted like metal and memory.
"So I’ve been teleported?"
"Yes. I’ve left behind an illusion of you in your apartment — breathing, blinking, scrolling nonsense. Just in case anyone checks in."
"Alright. So... what is the training?"
Sasa’s voice turned low.
"Yes," he said, stepping forward.
"The way you control your power. You already hold seven Karma Points — but they are dormant. Floating. Useless unless you forge a concept."
"Think of it like the shape your power takes. Your inner system. Some people use celestial formations — constellations like Scorpio or Orion. Each star represents a node in their soul. Others shape theirs like mechanical engines, rivers, spells, tattoos — it’s your choice."
Sasa circled him now, voice like a teacher, or a serpent.
"The concept defines your limits. A narrow one will burn out fast. A wide one will stretch as you grow. If you make a weak system, your progress will choke. But if you’re too greedy, your energy will devour you."
Dirga frowned, already thinking.
"So it’s like chakra paths, or cultivation roots. Magic circuits. I’ve seen stuff like that... in fiction."
"Exactly!" Sasa clapped.
"All fiction is just prophecy that forgot it was true."
Then, Sasa’s voice turned cold.
"But this process... is entirely yours. I will not help you build it. I will not feed you answers."
Dirga’s gaze sharpened.
"How long will it take?"
Sasa flicked his wrist, and the wind suddenly vanished.
"From this moment forward, you will be alone in this realm."
"No food. No water. No sleep. You will not die. But you will suffer."
"Your soul will not let you leave this realm until it forges its first concept."
"This is how I teach: Do or die. And Until you forge it, your Karma Points will remain caged. Useless. And so will you"
There was no threat in his tone.
And despite the cold... Dirga smiled.
He closed his eyes, saw Naya’s frail body again. That sickness pulsing beneath her skin. That flower of damnation buried in her soul.
"That’s exactly what I need."
Dirga was alone. And the Endless watched.