The journey away from the Crimson Monastery was silent at first.
Arjun, Ayra, and Raaka moved swiftly through the fading twilight, each lost in thought. The mountain path was treacherous, but none of them stumbled. There was a weight behind them now, like something ancient had been stirred—and was slowly gaining on them.
The monk they had rescued lay unconscious on Raaka’s back, his body burning with a fever that came not from illness, but from the touch of the divine.
“I’ve never seen karma act like that,” Ayra whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “It spoke through him.”
Arjun nodded slowly. “The Judges. Whoever they are, they’ve noticed me now.”
> [Warning: Cosmic Interference Detected]
[Stability Level: Fragile]
The System’s voice, usually neutral and calm, now seemed... wary.
As night fully blanketed the world, they reached a small outcrop overlooking the valley below. There, nestled among trees like sleeping giants, was an old hunter’s lodge—abandoned, but still standing.
They took shelter.
Inside, the air was heavy with dust and memory. Broken weapons hung on the walls. A rusted oil lamp flickered in the center, casting warped shadows across the floor.
Raaka laid the monk on a fur-covered bench, then sat with a grunt.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered. “We claim a throne, and now gods—real ones—start speaking?”
Ayra rubbed her temples. “They’re not gods. The Judges... they’re something older. They don’t bless or curse. They measure. All things.”
Arjun sat near the fire. His hands trembled slightly. Not from fear, but from the overwhelming presence of the throne within him. The Throne of Echoes had awakened something deep—something he didn’t yet understand.
> [Karmic Throne Sync: 22%]
Next ability unlocks at 50%.
Suddenly, the monk stirred. His eyes opened wide—no longer white, but bloodshot and human.
“Where... where am I?” he croaked.
“You were at the monastery,” Arjun said. “Something took over you. It spoke of the Judges.”
The monk looked up. “Then... it has begun again. The Cycle. The Weighing.”
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Ayra leaned forward. “Tell us what you know.”
The monk coughed, then sat up with effort. “I am called Elaran, last chronicler of the Crimson Order. My brothers are dead. You... you are the Bearer of the Karmic Throne?”
Arjun nodded.
“Then listen well. Long ago, before the gods rose and fell, before kingdoms were etched into stone, there were the Nine Judges. Beings of pure karmic force. They do not interfere—not unless someone tries to change the balance.”
Raaka snorted. “Balance is just a word rulers use to keep people down.”
Elaran met his gaze. “And imbalance is what turns men into monsters.”
He turned to Arjun. “Each throne you awaken echoes across the fabric of karma. The Judges will not stop you now. But they will test you. Each throne will come with a price.”
Arjun looked into the fire. “What kind of price?”
“That depends,” Elaran said quietly, “on what kind of king you wish to become.”
Silence fell.
Outside, the wind picked up. But it didn’t howl. It spoke.
Arjun rose, suddenly alert.
“Do you hear that?” he whispered.
Ayra unsheathed her blade. “Yes.”
Raaka reached for his axe. “Company.”
A thick fog rolled in, far too fast and far too cold.
From the mist emerged figures—cloaked in shadows, their forms ever-shifting. They didn’t walk. They floated. Ten of them.
Elaran gasped. “They are the Karmaphages—sent by the Judges to weigh your soul.”
> [Incoming Hostile Entities: Judgment Class | Unknown Tier]
The lead figure stopped a few feet from Arjun.
Its voice was like shattering glass wrapped in velvet. “Bearer. The Karmic Scale demands a measure. Your soul must be weighed.”
Arjun stood tall. “Then weigh it.”
The creature hissed. “Weighing... in progress.”
A circle of energy erupted around them. Arjun was pulled into it—his mind flung into a realm of light and shadow.
He stood in a courtroom made of stars. At its center was a massive scale, one side glowing gold, the other pulsing black.
One by one, fragments of his memories appeared—moments of kindness, moments of cruelty. Lives saved. Lives taken. Lies told. Truths upheld.
Each was placed on the scale.
It tipped. Then steadied.
The voice echoed again.
“Your soul leans toward redemption... but is stained by doubt. Shall we tip the scale and test your resolve?”
Arjun didn’t flinch. “Do it.”
Suddenly, he was back in his body.
And the Karmaphages attacked.
Ayra moved like lightning, her blade carving arcs through the fog. Raaka roared and charged, his axe cleaving through shadow.
But these were not normal foes. When struck, they split and reformed. When burned, they screamed but did not fall.
> [System Skill: Memory Bind – Echo of the Crimson Monk | Activated]
Arjun thrust his hand forward. A phantom version of Elaran appeared beside him—one from the past, wielding karmic fire.
The Echo chanted a mantra, sending a wave of golden flame through the Karmaphages. They shrieked, recoiling.
Arjun pressed the attack.
> [Memory Bind – Echo of the Warrior King | Activated]
Another phantom emerged—this time a version of Arjun from a past life, clad in obsidian armor, twin sabers blazing. He fought with deadly grace, striking where Arjun could not.
The fog thinned.
The creatures hissed, retreating into the shadows.
The lead one lingered.
“You are... not yet ready. But the next test... will not be a measure. It will be a war.”
It vanished.
> [Threat Repelled | Soul Integrity: Stable]
The wind stilled.
Elaran collapsed.
Ayra breathed heavily. “Are they gone?”
Arjun nodded. “For now.”
Raaka spat on the floor. “Next time, I’m wearing blessed armor.”
Arjun looked at his hands. They glowed faintly, the echoes still fading. He realized something then—not just power, but weight. Every throne he claimed added more to the balance. More responsibility. More danger.
He wasn’t just gathering power.
He was walking a path that few had ever dared to tread.
And the farther he went... the more the world would fight to stop him.
