Karma: Trace and Trajectory
Karma is both a trace and a trajectory. Just as tree rings grow within wood and flowing years erode stone, the smallest specks gather over time to create form. Remember this well. The pursuit of the Dao may not be a path built solely on karma, yet one who accumulates karma correctly has already attained the Dao.
In the past, the countless mysteries once passed down in secrecy have, in the modern age, been revealed to the public under the name of abilities. What used to be called secret intentions merged with science and became fields of study, while the secret techniques once whispered about were reduced to self-defense skills and combat arts, spreading far and wide among ordinary people. At the same time, the various forms of energy that had been called by a hundred different names across nations and regions were finally organized, utilized, and properly defined. People no longer looked upon abilities as something unknowable.
To the people of today, abilities are powers that were once regarded as mystical. Now they are simply part of daily life. Magic fused with science to become magitech. Martial arts are taught in schools as practical self-defense. Summoning is a skill used to call bodyguards or adorable pets. Turn on the television and you will see commercials for magitech beds that guarantee deep sleep. Home shopping channels sell “secret herbal tonics” that martial families once reserved for their children’s studies. Flip to a variety show and you will watch people living with cute summoned creatures. Witches who have perfected beauty-enhancing spells strut across red carpets as celebrities.
Even in a world like this, however, certain things are still regarded as unknown. The soul. Fate. Karma. What they share is the single trait that they “cannot be clearly verified.” Tales of people tormented by evil spirits or malevolent ghosts are passed down as ghost stories, and practitioners who train their souls to wield power appear with some frequency. Yet although the soul undeniably exists, the fact that it cannot be observed is precisely why people continue to treat it as something mysterious.
It cannot be perceived with the five senses. Attempts to measure its energy yield no readings. It seems to possess mass, yet the moment one tries to weigh it the value fluctuates wildly. It appears capable of interfering with physical laws, but the boundary of that interference remains vague. It most certainly exists, yet it cannot be proven. That is the nature of the soul.
Nevertheless, people remain convinced of its existence. Ordinary humans can see evil spirits and ghosts, and those who have opened their spiritual eyes or reached the realm of the Ajna Chakra witness souls as part of everyday life.
Fate is even more ambiguous. Shamans and Transcendents speak of it, and individuals calling themselves prophets frequently emerge to warn of coming disasters, so the concept clearly holds some reality. Yet it is not absolute; it can be altered. The ambiguity runs so deep that simply asking a room full of scholars whether “the nature of fate is immutable or mutable” is guaranteed to start an argument.
The prophecies once issued by the Temple of Apollo were notorious for their absolute nature, known as the Oracle of Delphi. The foresight granted by Apollo, classified as an ashin, was almost indistinguishable from a curse. Trying to avoid the predicted outcome only ensured that one would meet it, while accepting it meant walking straight into the predetermined future. Scholars who insist on fate’s immutability cite this as their strongest proof.
Yet countless cases exist in which fate has been changed. In recent years alone, ability users gathered to annihilate a tornado that would have devastated the United States. Before that, a future in which a monster was to emerge from the Bermuda Triangle was prevented by erasing the entire region with nuclear warheads and grand-scale magical bombardment. One need not even cite such grand examples. A single phrase is enough to refute immutability: apocalypse prophecy. Not one of the countless doomsday predictions that keep appearing has ever come true. That alone lets one confidently argue that fate possesses mutability.
Still, when asked whether fate exists, the answer is always the same. It does. Transcendents have proven it. History has proven it. Shamans continue to prove it. It is simply that it cannot be perceived directly and its nature is difficult to articulate. If we do not call it the unknown, what else should we call it?
Karma, however, is different from the previous two. While people may label the soul and fate as unknown, they do not doubt their existence. Karma is the one element whose very existence people question.
It is so abstract, so hazy, that even high-ranking ability users struggle to answer clearly when asked whether karma truly exists. A martial artist who has taken the power of nature into his body, a grand magician capable of causing natural disasters on a whim—neither can offer a proper reply when questioned about karma.
Karma is broadly divided into two aspects: Karma, which signifies fate and destiny, and Dharma, which signifies possibility. Because these overlap heavily with the concept of fate, some scholars insist:
『Karma is simply another cultural expression for what some societies call fate.』
Yet the reason people still claim that karma exists is because Transcendents can observe it, each in their own distinct manner. Some see it as light. Others as written characters. Still others as color. The method and the vision differ from one Transcendent to another, but they can all perceive it clearly.
The same was true for the demon contracted to Lee Serin.
The demon rendered its verdict after observing the karma of the boy called Park Jinsung.
Lee Serin tilted her head, puzzled by the sudden remark. She had noticed that Jinsung finally seemed to have some free time and had come to suggest breakfast together. The moment the demon saw him, however, it stared for a long time before uttering those words.
“S-suddenly…?”
Moreover, the demon’s expression was unpleasant. The face that usually gazed at Jinsung with something like affection now carried a faint trace of disgust. Even with the features of a camel, the shift in emotion was unmistakable, enough to make Lee Serin feel that something was truly off.
Transcendent. In the human realm they were called gods, demons, ashins, dragons, or spirits—beings of the kind that appeared only in myth and legend. Humans expressed their awe by referring to them as existences on an entirely different plane, using the respectful term Transcendent.
Strictly speaking, however, the label “Transcendent race” was slightly inaccurate. Beings outside the human category possessed higher existential value from birth and could display tremendous power early on, yet calling them “Transcendent” still fell somewhat short. Records were filled with stories of monsters and yokai subjugated by humans. In the West, dragons were routinely slain by heroes. In the East, passing shamans or martial artists sealed or killed them without much trouble. Therefore, it might be more accurate to speak of “Transcendent beings” rather than “Transcendent races.”
True transcendence was a realm unreachable by simply being born into a particular species. It could only be grasped by those who overcame the limits of their kind. Transcendence had to be achieved solely through one’s own power, without any external aid.
Yet once transcendence was attained, a problem arose: boredom and loneliness. By surpassing their species, Transcendents gained overwhelming lifespans. The higher their realm, the longer they lived, until eventually their bodies reached a state where only violence could kill them. Their existence was fundamentally different from that of ordinary beings.
Such longevity inevitably brought boredom and loneliness. Those they loved died with the passage of time. Anything that once held their interest eventually reached its end. Everything of value eroded and vanished alongside the years. It would have been easier if they could simply go mad, but their minds, having transcended all limits, refused even that escape. The powerful laws of causality bound their strength, preventing reckless interference with the material world. They could act only in ways befitting their transcendent station.
Having obtained peerless power and near-eternal life, they were deprived of the right to play.
“Um… you like humans?”
Yet even for such Transcendents there remained one hope: humanity itself.
Humans. Fragile creatures without exception. To Transcendents, however, they were magnificent sources of entertainment and the perfect remedy for loneliness and boredom simply by being watched.
Imagine spending an entire lifetime trapped inside a gym with no books, no television, nothing but endless exercise. The only food provided is chicken breast and protein shakes. There is no hope of stimulating flavors. Nothing exists except working out. Now imagine enduring that for ten years, fifty years, a hundred years… a thousand years. The only people around you are muscle-bound, grim-faced individuals. Would that not be bleak?
They might brawl among themselves or gamble to pass the time. Some might even find romantic partners. But after a hundred years, a thousand years, even those things grow tiresome.
Then, at that very moment, suppose each person in the gym is given a smartphone containing images and videos of adorable animals. Kittens. Baby hedgehogs. Hamsters. Puppies. Lovely birds. Countless cute creatures. What is more, you can interact with and even raise the ones that suit your taste.
What reaction would you expect?
That is exactly how Transcendents feel about humans.
A city where humans gather and live? A place packed with kittens. A human swinging a sword? Picture a kitten walking on two legs, brandishing a blade in a dance. How adorable. A magician? Imagine a kitten dressed in wizard robes, casting spells with a solemn expression. Of course they cannot help but adore them.