Auren was impressed by Sukamu's words, almost caught off guard. {Prana}. Something about it struck him deep, like a hidden thread tugging at his soul. His face showed it—his curiosity, his hunger to know more. It wasn't just knowledge he wanted; it was a connection. A feeling that maybe this "Prana" was tied to some joy, some truth he hadn't yet discovered.

His gaze stayed fixed forward, eyes burning with focus, but his mind was elsewhere. What is Prana? What does it feel like?

Auren closed his eyes. The cold air rushed into him, sharp and biting. Inhale. Then came the exhale—warmer, softer, like a faint mist fading into the world. He felt each breath move through him, filling his lungs, and for a moment, it loosened the heaviness on his chest. His shoulders sank. His body eased.

"Is that… Prana?" Auren whispered, his voice quiet, almost hopeful.

Sukamu glanced at him and smiled knowingly, shaking his head. "No." His tone was gentle but firm. "That's just relaxation. A good step—but not the essence."

He kept running, the snow crunching beneath his stride, but his words cut deeper than the cold air.

"Prana is always there, Auren. Inside you. Outside you. Around you. Like the air you breathe, like the silence between two sounds. It's there… but you don't realize it."

Auren opened his eyes slowly, listening.

"Learning to notice your breathing, to calm yourself—that's only the first step," Sukamu continued, his voice steady as the rhythm of his feet. "Understand your breath, watch it, feel it—regularly, intentionally. Do it until it becomes part of your very existence, without effort, without trying."

His eyes flickered like a quiet flame."And when that happens—when breath is no longer just breath—you will see it. Prana. Flowing inside your veins. Roaming inside your mind. Alive in every corner of nature, both outside you… and within you."

"You can't understand anything… even yourself… without effort," Sukamu said, his voice cutting through the snowy silence like truth itself.

"There are only three kinds of people who truly progress in this world.

First… the man with curiosity.Second… the man with dedication and ambition to achieve something. And third… the man who has no second option—do or die."

His steps pressed into the snow, steady, almost as if the ground itself listened.

"These three types," he went on, "their core intentions allow them to see through anything. But even among them… the curious one stands apart."

Auren's eyes flickered with interest.

"For the curious man, life is nothing but new experiences. No loss. No gain. Just learning. For him, there is no such thing as failure… no such thing as success. Only discovery. That's why a curious man can walk for days without exhaustion, work for nights without rest. Because each moment is not a struggle—it is simply exploration."

Sukamu's breath fogged into the cold air. His smile was faint, but real."And I… am that curious man. Each step I take right now tells me a different story. A different joy. A new color of existence."

His eyes grew brighter, reflecting the falling snow."And it is that same curiosity… that led me to discover Prana."

"Each human," Sukamu continued, "varies in these intentions—curiosity, ambition, and necessity. They are in all of us, but in different percentages. Some people are more curious, some more ambitious, some are simply forced by life into a do-or-die path. But…" his tone grew firm, "what overshadows all three… is the evil of demote."

Auren's eyes narrowed, curiosity burning. "Evil of demotion? What is that?"

Sukamu's face was straight, his voice steady, even as his feet struck the snow in rhythm."Laziness. Lust. Bad health. These are examples of the evil of demotion. They make us blind to what humans truly are… to the treasure hidden inside us."

The snowy winds brushed against Auren's face as Sukamu went on, his words carrying weight like stone."There are many forms of demot: anger, ego, greed, and shallow pleasure. These are not evil by nature. But when they overflow, when they control us, they twist into poison. Anger, if it rises for injustice, is sacred. Ego, if it is the vow never to let yourself fall below your dignity, is strength. Greed, if it drives innovation and uplifts those around you, becomes vision. Then, these are not evils—they are forces of growth."

Auren's lips parted in awe. "Ohhh… then why do you still call it demotion?"

Sukamu smirked faintly, his eyes reflecting the falling snowflakes."Because when these shadows dominate us, they drag us lower than human. They strip away purity and turn us into something animal-like. And if they grow stronger… if they consume us completely… they don't just make us animals, Auren. They turn us into demons. Human shells without emotion."

Auren was surprised—no, more than surprised. He was completely buried under the depth of Sukamu's words, as if each sentence was pulling him into an unseen world. The cold wind, the snow, even the pain in his limbs began to fade in the background. His heart was supposed to be burning with worry for his friends trapped inside the Ramuza's house… yet, for a moment, that fire dimmed.

The storm of fear and helplessness in him grew quiet. In its place rose a strange stillness, a hunger for more of this hidden knowledge Sukamu carried. The talk of prana, of demote, of the thin line between man and demon—it all hooked him like gravity.

Auren's eyes stayed fixed on Sukamu's back, his mind wandering deeper and deeper.He almost forgot why he was being carried at such speed. Almost forgot that his friends might still be fighting for their lives. For that fleeting moment, he was no longer the desperate boy running toward battle. He was a seeker, a student, standing at the edge of something vast.

As the snow grew heavy, Sukamu noticed something! Strange, it was none other than Ramuza's Hometown. Where a giant house stands in the center of a small one.

Bloodshed all over..

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