Kishor nodded, memories flooding back. “We shared a tiny mountain village. Back then, no one called  Madam Pudge… Her name was Alice, and was lively, bright, maybe not a great beauty, but charming enough that the elders joked we were born for each other.”

His eyes softened, as though could still see the slim girl with twin braids chasing through rice fields, laughing, “Wait for me, Kishor!”

“We entered the city together to train. My gifts blossomed, hers lagged. Fame gathered around me like storm clouds, and I saw new shadows in eyes, self-doubt, fear that no longer matched the man I was becoming. I laughed it off, told her was enough, but words can’t fight a fear that deep…”

“I never imagined she’d take such a desperate path.” Kishor’s voice thickened. “She found an ancient Demonic Cultivation. Power surged overnight, but at a monstrous cost. That art warps the body-flesh swells, bones distort…”

“By the time I learned, the change had begun. She outpaced me in strength, yet own reflection terrified her. I was shocked and furious. I demanded to know why did it, but just cried and said didn’t want to be left behind. She wanted to stay by my side, always, and didn’t want others saying wasn’t good enough for me…”

“Watching exult and suffer in the same breath was like knives carving my heart. My meteoric rise had cornered into madness, yet I couldn’t accept the price paid, nor could I deny that my ambition helped drive there.”

Kishor drew a ragged breath, fingers twisting together as though they might hide his shame. “Back then, the truth crashed over me too hard, too sudden. I had no idea how to carry it, so… I ran… I convinced myself that time would dull the pain. That one day would see the sense behind my cowardice…”