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Ashan and Dris found seats on the mat near their teammates. The classroom was unchanged, but Instructor Faala had been replaced by an old man seated on the cushion.

“I am Dhren Uljek, from the Rat faction of the House of Greed,” the man with graying sideburns introduced himself. A gold cloak with silver lining was draped over his left shoulder. “You will all be learning Ganit and Vigyan—what you may know as mathematics and science. These are ancient studies of the natural world.”

Once again, pages and quills landed before the candidates.

“We begin with the basics of Ganit. Pay close attention.” Instructor Dhren launched into his lecture without pause, covering numbers, addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.

For a full hour, he spoke relentlessly. Many candidates heads began to spin. Dris and Helma wore expressions of blank concentration, but they diligently took notes.

Gong!

The bell finally rang. “Revise today’s lecture. We will continue tomorrow, and there will be a test at the week’s end. Remain here; your next instructor will arrive shortly,” Dhren said before exiting through the back door.

‘That old man didn’t stop for a single breath,’ Ashan thought, massaging his temples. ‘My ears are bleeding. But it’s clear—this world’s mathematical knowledge is at least on par with my own, if not more advanced.’

“Fuck! What was that old man going on about for an hour? I didn’t understand a thing,” Dris cursed loudly.

Roderic smirked. “It seems your brain is comparable to a dog’s. No, my apologies—even a dog has greater intellect.”

“You dickhead! Want to test that theory against my fist?” Dris cracked his knuckles threateningly.

‘And this is why I hate children,’ Ashan sighed internally, contemplating whether to intervene.

“You two. Stand up.”

A cold, authoritative voice cut through the chatter. Ashan looked to the front. A young woman now sat on the cushion, though no one had seen her arrive. Her long, silky black hair cascaded down her shoulders, contrasting with the green layered cloak draped over her right one.

An absolute silence fell over the room. Roderic and Dris scrambled to their feet, their faces aghast.

“You were speaking rather loudly,” she said, her cold black eyes freezing them in place.

“We’re sorry!” they blurted out in unison.

Slap! Slap!

Two sharp sounds echoed in the quiet. Both boys winced, a thin red mark blooming on each of their right cheeks.

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“Sit. Let this serve as a warning to all of you. You will maintain silence in my class.”

“Understood!” the class chorused. Roderic and Dris sank back to their seats, thoroughly chastened.

“I am Inira Vehl, from the Spider faction of the House of Envy. I am the head instructor in charge of your academic studies.” Her gaze swept over them. “The rulebook contains this information, but as it will take you time to decipher it, I will explain the nature of the Order of Arishadvarga—whom now called as the House of Sins.”

She began her explanation. “The Order of Arishadvarga is an organization that venerates the seven Asuras. We are distinct from the seven orthodox temples that worship the Devas. We are comprised of seven Houses, each devoted to an Asura: Pride, Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, Lust, Greed, and Sloth. Each House contains two factions.”

She paused, ensuring everyone was following.

“House of Pride: Peacock and Lion. House of Wrath: Tiger and Bull. House of Gluttony: Owl and Leech. House of Envy: Spider and Wolf. House of Lust: Fox and Goat. House of Greed: Serpent and Rat. House of Sloth: Bear and Snail.”

“That is all for now. Further details are in your rulebooks. Today, I will lecture on Sadhana.” Her voice took on a tone of grim determination.

‘Finally,’ Ashan thought, keeping his face neutral. ‘The core of it all.’

“Sadhana is a disciplined path—a conscious defiance of nature’s laws—in the quest for Amarta, the undying truth beyond decay.” Inira’s voice resonated in the silent hall. “Those who walk this path are Sadhakas, and they pursue true immortality.”

A profound silence followed her words. The concept of immortality, which would have been laughable in their past lives, now felt tangible, as real as the air they breathed.

‘True immortality? Amarta?’ Ashan’s mind raced. ‘What more could anyone desire? If this fleeting life offers even a chance to taste that nectar, then I will walk any path, face any peril. Let the tides swallow me, let me burn like a moth in the flame—I will fly toward it. No matter the cost.’ A fierce conviction settled within him.

“Good,” Inira said, perhaps sensing the shift in the room. “It seems you are all desperate enough to gamble with your lives. We will delve into the philosophy of Sadhana. In two weeks, you will begin the real practice. Until then, you must build your foundation.”

She detailed the three paths, or Margas, of Sadhana: the Sharir Marga (Body Path), the Atma Marga (Soul Path), and the Samyama Marga (Union Path).

“Every being’s existence is supported by five fundamental pillars. These are what a Sadhaka cultivates: Prana (Breath of Life), Ojas (Essence of Vitality), Manas (Mind), Atma (Soul), and Tejas (Inner Will).”

“That is all for today. Memorize this. I may question anyone on it. You now have a fifteen-minute lunch break.” With that, Inira Vehl ended the class.

Gong! Gong! Gong!

The triple bell signaled the end of the two-hour session. The candidates filed out toward the mess building.

“That arrogant bitch! I’ll kill her one day. I just have to keep this resentment alive until then,” Dris muttered, rubbing his cheek.

“Do you think it’s true?” Imla asked the group as they walked. “About becoming immortal?”

Ballio scratched his nose. “Maybe. There must be some truth to it.”

“What do you think, Ashan?” Roderic asked.

‘If reincarnating in a new body counts, then I’m already a form of immortal,’ he quipped to himself. Aloud, he said in a calm, confident tone, “How about we find out for ourselves? First, we have to learn Sadhana and become Sadhakas.”

His words landed with weight. They were the dregs of society, their lives inconsequential. The thought of reaching for immortality was surreal.

“But… do you really think we can do it?” Damara asked, her voice a mix of hesitation and hope.

“No,” Ashan answered bluntly. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, what—” Dris started to retort.

“But I know one thing,” Ashan interrupted, his hazel eyes meeting each of theirs. “We have nothing to lose by trying. Whether we rise from this place or fall deeper into despair will be revealed soon enough.”

Silenced by his pragmatic resolve, they entered the mess hall, collected their food—meat stew, flatbread, and plain rice—and found a table.

‘Not bad, not good,’ Ashan thought, taking a bite of flatbread dipped in stew. ‘The feast during the second trial was a one-time luxury, then.’

He ate methodically, his mind elsewhere.

‘Two weeks. Then my path to immortality begins.’

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep