Chapter 1
The sun in Assaka was an unrelenting eye in the sky, searing the earth with a perpetual summer heat that brought life from every cracked crevice of the land. It beat down on the sprawling city, a vibrant tapestry of terracotta roofs and bustling marketplaces, nestled in a valley where the very air shimmered with an unseen energy. This energy, omnipresent and vital, was **Prana**.
In Assaka, Prana was not a whispered myth or a forgotten power; it was the very essence of existence. Everyone, from the tiniest ant to the mightiest king, possessed it. It flowed through the veins of mountains, shimmered in the clear waters of the river, and danced in the very air people breathed. It was the gift of the gods, the essence of their being, distilled and distributed among mortals and the world they inhabited. Every living creature carried within them a diluted essence of one of the endless gods’ own Prana.
Humans, however, were unique. Their bodies, finely attuned vessels of both flesh and spirit, allowed them to consciously wield this energy. They could mold it, direct it, and unleash its myriad powers through the intricate dance of **Mantras** and **Tantras**. Mantras were the chants, the whispered words of creation and command, invoking elemental forces or weaving specific magical effects. Tantras were the movements, the physical expressions of Prana, enhancing the body, manipulating objects, or achieving incredible feats of strength and speed. Not every person could use every chant; while they could speak the words, achieving results often required an increase in their personal Prana levels. Furthermore, some Mantras and Tantras were tied to specific Prana types, accessible only by those who possessed that particular divine essence. Prana was not merely an internal energy; it existed in everything, each thing possessing its own unique nature of Prana.
Yet, Prana, like all great powers, harbored a terrifying shadow: the **Rakshasas**. These monstrous beings were not born of demons, but made from humans or animals. They were once beings who, in their desperate pursuit of power, had pushed their bodies beyond their limits, consuming and manipulating too much Prana. The spiritual core, the very consciousness, would buckle under the strain, unable to contain the overwhelming energy. When the Prana within the body was utterly consumed, the consciousness, the soul, would violently detach, drawn either to the celestial realms of Swargam or the abyssal depths of Narakam. What remained was a hollowed vessel, a shell ripe for possession by malevolent spirits, transforming into the monstrous, mindless entities known as Rakshasas. These creatures, devoid of their former selves, lacked any inherent Prana. To survive, they desperately needed to absorb Prana from their surroundings, channeling it through themselves to use chants. The strongest Rakshasas, therefore, fed on the strongest beings to absorb their Prana. Everyone knew this chilling truth, and thus, feared using too much Prana, staying well within their perceived limits.
This pervasive fear shaped life in Assaka. While those who never used Prana often lived up to a hundred years, individuals who used it moderately might only reach eighty. Heavy users often faded by fifty or sixty. The body’s maximum limit was a hundred years, aging relentlessly regardless of one’s Prana level. After death, bodies were burned to ashes to prevent any spirit, particularly that of a Rakshasa, from possessing them.
In this world of subtle magic and terrifying consequences, lived a young man named **Kalinga Bheema**, though everyone simply called him **Tantu**.
Tantu was, by all accounts, unremarkable. Born into a family of average Prana users, he was too lazy even to attend school, where he might have discovered his inherent skills. His parents were too poor to afford sending him anyway, and Tantu, for his part, harbled no desire to go. He worked for small wages, doing just enough to feed himself.
At sixteen, his parents passed away, leaving Tantu with no attachments to his village. He decided to seek his fortune in the nearby city, a bustling metropolis named Assaka Mahajanapada, like many cities in this world that bore the names of ancient kingdoms. These cities were ruled by kings, their power challenged every ten years, or upon their death, by a competition known as the **Rajaveer Fight**. This grand tournament of strength was open to anyone from any city, except other reigning kings. Participants signed a binding agreement, accepting the risk of losing their lives in the fight, a rule common to all cities across the land.
Tantu, seeing this as an opportunity, aimed for the king’s place. The only problem was, he had never truly used his skills; in fact, he didn't even know what skills he possessed. He thought of finding a guru, but the competition was fast approaching. He bought a ticket for the seven-day event with his meager savings. The fight system was a simple single-elimination bracket: 1v1 battles, winners advancing to face other winners, until only one champion remained. That champion would then face the reigning king.
Tantu remembered a past Rajaveer Fight, where a king named Raja Chori had faced a finalist named **Ashoka**. Ashoka had won, becoming the new king. Tantu had watched all of Ashoka’s fights, witnessing the new king's prowess. Ashoka was a master of both magic and sword fighting, seamlessly using magic with one hand while wielding a blade with the other to defeat his opponents. Tantu, watching that day, had found his aim: to become like King Ashoka.
