How to Save the World Book 1: The Crown Prince Becomes Disciple of a Fallen God

Svetavastra walked on the empty road towards the village on the map that lit up in red due to the demonic energy. It seemed like an anomaly. Rakshasas possessed demonic energy but they were also quite restless. They would not be confined to a single place for long. The locus of red demonic energy on the map seemed fairly stable. Some of the more powerful pretas were stationary, tied to a certain place and could possess demonic energy. Was it these pretas that haunted the village? But those kinds of pretas were rare. Thus, Svetavastra was assessing the probabilities of the demonic energy anomaly when he stopped and pressed his ears to the ground.

A bullock cart, I see, he thought. I might as well hitch a ride.

Soon, a bullock cart with two men came into Svetavastra’s line of sight. He narrowed his eyes.

A preta? He thought. Why does he feel familiar?

He extended his hand to ask for a ride as the bullock cart came near.

“Could you give me a ride, merchants?” Said Svetavastra. “I’m heading in the same direction.”

The preta noticed the young man and became instantly interested in him.

“What a resplendent young man!” It thought out aloud.

Svetavastra mentally groaned. Do the pretas also find me attractive?

“He seems like a cultivator,” One of them said to the other. “He can help us get rid of the preta.”

“Yes, I am, observant of you,” said Svetavastra with a smile. “And I do see a preta hovering near you two.”

One of the merchants face paled as if blood had drained from it. "No way," he muttered weakly.

“See!” said the other merchant who had guessed the identity of Svetavastra. “I was being set up by a preta! I wasn’t hallucinating!”

“It’s our good fortune to meet you, young cultivator!” He said. “Can you help us with the preta in exchange for the ride?

“Of course,” said Svetavastra. “I’ll take care of the matter.”

Svetavastra went towards the back of the cart, hopped on and gestured to the merchants to continue the ride.

“You can really see me?” said the preta floating in front of Svetavastra waving his make-believe arms into the air.

“Yes,” said Svetavastra.

“Wow,” said the preta. “You are the second one I know who can do that, technically third if you count the old woman but she is blind.”

“The first one is No-god God,” said the preta reminiscing. “I really miss her. She wouldn’t talk much, but I felt good in her presence. She has a calming force.”

“She’s also kind of stupid,” continued the preta. “She used her entire spiritual powers to seal a portal to the Patala-loka. She ended up with a prince who brought her to the blind old woman, who in turn made her forget everything by transferring her own spiritual powers to No-god God. She forgot about me! She couldn’t see me or hear me anymore.”

“And then the old woman and the girl headed to the preceptor?” finished Svetavastra.

“Resplendent young man!” said the preta, its voice raising with excitement and make-believe eyes teary and full of admiration. “Are you a clairvoyant too?!”

“No,” said Svetavastra.

“Ohh,” said the preta. “But wait — how did you know No-god God was a girl? I didn’t mention it.”

“That’s easy,” said Svetavastra. “I am her.”

For the first time, the preta felt speechless.

“You are No-god God?” Said the preta.

“The preceptor named me Svetavastra,” said Svetavastra. “I do not have any specific preference but why do you call me No-god God?”

The preta had a number of questions and Svetavastra was interested in knowing more about her past. They continued to question each other for a while until each of them was fully caught up on the other.

“No-god God is back!” choked the preta with emotion. “What a wonderful day!”

Svetavastra sighed and shook his head. What an interesting preta! He thought.

“Preta,” said Svetavastra. “I’m heading towards a village that has unusual demonic energy.”

“I’m not as afraid of rakshasas as the first time we met, No-god God,” said the preta putting up a brave front.

“That’s good,” said Svetavastra. “I suspect there might be some rouge pretas. If I use the pretabandana, you may be captured into it as well. I cannot control what kind of pretas go into it.”

“Ohh!” said the preta realising what could happen. “Oh no! Oh no! I don’t want to be stuck with random rouge pretas!” And it started to wail.

“There there,” said Svetavastra. “I can temporarily trap you in a bracer around my arm.”

“No-god God!” cried the preta. “My saviour!”

Svetavastra closed his eyes, made a mudra with his right hand and passed it across his left arm to the elbow. A radiant light shone across the arm and turned into a leather bracer. He flicked his right hand and transferred the preta to the bracer.

“Ooooo,” said the preta in the bracer exploring its temporary home. “I like it!”

“No-god God,” continued the preta. “You have become more human since the last time. You talk more freely and care for others more openly.”

“Hmm,” said Svetavastra. It could be due to the chakra imbalance, he thought to himself.

They travelled for a few hours without incident. Soon, it would be dusk. The sun had just set and faint orange light filled the air.

The bullock cart screeched to a halt. The village ahead of them was razed to the ground. There was nothing there. Only ashes. Svetavastra got down and came forward to examine. He sensed a surge of demonic energy, the luminous Diksuchi he had, kept flashing red in the direction in front of him.

That deceitful preceptor! Svetavastra thought. The white robes not only absorbed energy from the surroundings, they literally attracted demonic energy, the pretas swarmed towards him like raging bees.

Aryaman had a fitful sleep, his eyes moved rapidly from side to side, and he kept murmuring, “No, no, NO!” At various levels of intonation. Sanjaya who kept vigil by his side looked at him with concern. Sanjaya felt guilty for not being able to stop the prince from leaving him. The royal physician had bandaged the prince’s hand and gave him some medication and advised ample rest. The king had ordered Sanjaya to stand by Aryaman’s side till he woke him.

Aryaman opened his eyes after a while and slowly adjusted himself to the light in the room.

“Sanjaya,” he said weakly, getting up.

“Your Highness,” said Sanjaya and he got up to help the prince sit up straight, plopping cushions behind the prince’s back.

“We won, Your Highness!” Sanjaya said with pride. “All thanks to you!”

“What happened to the Kapala troops?” Aryaman asked.

“Taken into our custody and jailed in the dungeons,” said Sanjaya.

“What about the Kapala chief?” said Aryaman.

“Hmm,” said Sanjaya. “I personally checked all the dead bodies of the Kapala Army. The chief may have escaped.”

“He did escape,” said the prince. “I saw it. I couldn’t stop him.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Your Highness,” said Sanjaya. “What you were able to achieve on such short notice and with a limited number of soldiers is extraordinary! It’s spectacular! And say, what can a chief do with his army? Most of it is dead and the rest are imprisoned.”

“He shouldn’t be underestimated,” said the prince. “Anyways, did you retrieve my sword as well?”

“What sword?” asked Sanjaya puzzled.