NshedRana

In the ancient lands inspired by historical Nepal, where gods are revered and empires rise and fall, Shree Yan emerges as a man burdened by tragedy and driven by vengeance. Once a kind-hearted boy, he is shaped into a cunning, ruthless seeker of power after witnessing the murder of his mother at the hands of the Gautam kingdom. Rejecting the gods, he instead embraces the teachings of Buddha and seeks to escape the illusionary world through the path of immortality.

Shree Yan's journey begins with his pursuit of forbidden cultivation techniques, each offering immense power at a devastating cost to his humanity. Along the way, he assembles a following, creating his own sect from outcasts and rebels disillusioned by the tyranny of the Gautam kingdom. However, his rise to power comes with betrayal and bloodshed, forcing him to walk a path where trust is fleeting and alliances are fragile.

Shidhara Gautami, the Gautam princess, remains an unwavering presence in Shree Yan's life. Despite his descent into darkness, she believes in the goodness that once defined him and desires to see him return to his childhood self. Her love and loyalty become a source of conflict for Shree Yan, as he questions whether he is capable of redemption or whether his destiny is to become the very thing he despises.

Opposing him are powerful enemies: King Rajendra Gautam, who sees Shree Yan as a threat to his throne; Arindam, a rival cultivator with a vision of power rooted in preservation; and Kaliyan, a dark sorcerer who seeks to bend Shree Yan to his will. These adversaries challenge Shree Yan not only in strength but in ideology, forcing him to confront the morality of his actions and the consequences of his ambition.

As Shree Yan ascends through the stages of cultivation—mastering the elements, shadows, souls, and even time itself—he is haunted by the growing cost of his power. His sect fractures under the weight of his ruthless decisions, and he faces betrayal by those he once trusted, including his former mentor, Kiran Gopal. Through all this, Shree Yan remains relentless, driven by his ultimate goal: to destroy the Gautam kingdom, avenge his mother, and transcend the illusionary world to achieve eternal life.

But as Shree Yan nears the peak of his power, he begins to question the meaning of his quest. Is immortality truly freedom, or is it a prison of loneliness and regret? In his pursuit of revenge and transcendence, has he become the very monster he once vowed to destroy?

Destiny of Immortality is a tale of ambition, betrayal, and the search for meaning in a world where power comes at a heavy price. It explores the duality of human nature, the fragility of trust, and the ultimate question: Is destiny something to be embraced or defied?

Destiny Of Immortality

"A blade does not weep, nor does it mourn,

Yet the hands that wield it remember the slain.

The river of fate is red with choices,

And mercy is but a whisper drowned in screams."

The night was thick with the scent of rain and blood.

Devendra stood at the precipice of a new life, the weight of his past still clinging to his soul like rusted chains. But tonight, those chains would break.

Shree Yan walked ahead, his white hair ghostly under the torchlight, his crimson eyes burning like distant stars. The torches lining the corridor flickered as if they feared him, as if the very air recoiled from his presence.

"Are you ready?" Shree Yan asked without looking back.

Devendra's fingers curled into fists. "What do you want me to do?"

A chuckle, deep and knowing. "Kill the man who still doubts me."

Shree Yan turned, his gaze piercing, his smirk cold. "Narayan Thapa."

The name struck like a hammer. Narayan, the old general of the Gautam kingdom, the man who had once spoken of honor even in the face of war. A man Devendra had once respected.

He had heard rumors—whispers that Narayan was hesitating, that doubt festered in his heart like an open wound. That he still believed Shree Yan could be stopped.

"You hesitate," Shree Yan observed.

Devendra's throat was dry. "He—he was a good man."

Shree Yan stepped closer, his presence like an eclipse blotting out the stars. "There are no good men in war. Only those who kill and those who are killed."

"Or do you think he would spare you if the roles were reversed?"

Devendra's mind raced, memories clawing at him. The nights in the dungeons. The voices outside his cell whispering of his execution. The letter he had written to Narayan, pleading for his life—left unanswered.

Shree Yan saw it all in his silence.

"You are still clinging to the illusion of brotherhood," he murmured, stepping past Devendra, heading toward the courtyard. "If you wish to live in the past, you may die with it."

His decision had already been made.

The courtyard was silent, save for the steady patter of rain. Narayan stood beneath the old banyan tree, his sword sheathed, his gaze distant. He did not flinch when Devendra approached.

"So it is you," Narayan said softly.

Devendra's grip tightened around the hilt of his blade. "You knew."

A weary nod. "I knew it would come to this."

The silence between them was heavy. Devendra wanted to ask—Why? Why didn't you answer my letter? Why did you let them throw me away? But the answers no longer mattered.

Narayan studied him with tired eyes. "If you must do this, make it swift."

Narayan moved like a dying storm, his blade flashing through the rain. But Devendra had trained for this moment—not as a soldier, but as something far worse.

He ducked, sidestepped, and drove his dagger into Narayan's ribs.

Narayan staggered, blood spilling onto the wet ground. His sword fell from his fingers, clattering against the stone.

Devendra caught him as he collapsed, lowering him to the earth.

"You were a good man," Devendra whispered.

Narayan exhaled a shaky breath, his hand grasping weakly at Devendra's wrist. "No… there are no good men."

Devendra did not rise immediately. His hands were slick with blood, his pulse hammering against his skull. He had killed before. He had watched countless men die.

This was proof. Proof that the past was dead. Proof that there was no turning back.

A slow clap echoed through the courtyard.

Shree Yan stood beneath the rain, watching, smiling. "You have finally severed your last chain."

The Weight of Blood