Chapter 1 - "The Silence Before Oblivion"

In a distant land overburdened with cosmic energy, "???", where light and darkness interwove reality, three figures stood above the battlefield.

The Supreme Ones.

Neither gods nor mortals, neither Sura nor Asuras-beings beyond time, beyond fate. They watched, unmoving, their silhouettes distorting the very fabric of space around them.

Their eyes tracked the war down below. The clash of divine and demonic forces painted the land in streaks of white and black, like a masterpiece of destruction.

The first Supreme One, clad in robes shimmered with the hues of dawn and dusk, a flowing tapestry of creation itself, spoke first. "They battle as they always had, blind to the fact that they are but echoes of wars long written. Creation brings them to life, and they use it as if it were their own to command."

The second, cloaked in a mantle of endless blue, his presence was an unshaken ocean—calm, boundless, yet concealing tempests beneath the surface with a soft sigh. "Balance is a fragile thing… but they do not understand. They never do. They attempt to tip the scales, not realizing in doing this they invite their own destruction."

The third, the middle one, said nothing. His eyes were locked on 2 figures- representatives of forces beyond the chaos of battle.

The Asura King, "???".

The Sura King, "Indra"

With the arrival of the Asura King, the battlefield shook. The cries of the dead still echoed, but the whole war appeared to hold its breath as if the world itself had not remembered how to breathe.

A chasm opened in the emptiness above the battlefield. Out of it, he came.

A figure of impossible stature. His presence alone warped the world, the sheer density of his existence crushing mountains beneath his feet. He was not like the other Asura. If they were nightmares, he was the void that even nightmares feared to touch.

His form was ever-shifting, shadows coiling around a core of blinding red, like a star ready to collapse into oblivion. His six burning eyes opened, locking onto the battlefield. His voice was not spoken-it was felt.

"Pathetic."

The war began anew with even more chaos.

With a single leap, the Asura King crossed the battlefield. Space bent beneath his will. Divine warriors crumbled into dust at his presence. Weapons forged in the heart of dying stars shattered against his skin like fragile glass.

The Sura generals charged to stop him. They failed.

With a swing of his hand, armies were erased. He devoured light itself, absorbing the divine energy of the slain and growing stronger with every breath.

But then, the sky roared.

Lightning split the sea of stars. A golden radiance pierced through the darkness, scattering the bloodstained clouds. A rift of storm and judgment descended upon the battlefield, and from it, a warrior – no, a king emerged.

Indra.

His aura was as overwhelming as the Asura King's—yet where the latter was chaos incarnate, Indra was order incarnate, the very will of the divine. His golden armor pulsed with raw energy, and in his hands, Vajra hummed with an electric hunger.

No words were spoken. None were necessary.

Then, they clashed.

A storm against the abyss.

Indra's divine strikes met the Asura King's devastating blows. The ground shattered beneath them, the sky screamed, and the battlefield became their arena. Each strike was a declaration—each impact, a challenge to the other's existence.

The kings of both sides fought in the shadows of Supremes.

And then—the Asura King let out a roar that shook the universe itself.

Something changed.

A terrible power surged through the battlefield—a force forbidden even among Supremes.

The Asura King, once a force of pure destruction, now burned with something far more dangerous.

He writhed in agony, his aura bursting past rationale, past the scope of reality. The order of the universe screamed protest.

He had stolen from the beyond.

Indra's eyes narrowed. He knew. This was no longer a war of gods and demons. The Asura King had touched something no being was meant to touch.

And so—the Supreme Ones acted.

The first, "This is forbidden."

The second, exhaled with a sigh of disappointment. "Asura king has overstepped his boundaries."

The third, silent until now, raised his hand. "Then it is time."

And he snapped his fingers.

"Let There Be Silence."

The world held its breath.

Then—silence.

Light, sound, time—all stopped.

For a moment, the universe itself stood still.

Then—a blast unlike any before.

A force beyond creation tore through the battlefield.

The sea of stars shattered.

Colour faded from reality—everything became black and white.

The Sura barely endured.

The Asura scattered like how beasts would after loss of their king.

And the Asura King—for the first time in eternity—screamed in pain.

His body fractured, his very essence splintered. He staggered, staring at his own unraveling form as the void collapsed inward, consuming everything in its wake.

Amidst the swirling chaos, as his form disintegrated into nothingness, the Asura King exhaled one final word.

A whisper lost in oblivion.

"Beautiful."

The Supreme One turned away as the battlefield was swallowed.

Yet—something remained.

Scattered throughout the void, fragments of power. Relics of war. The artifacts.

And as they drifted through the cosmos, the Supremes looked upon them one last time and whispered—

"This war is over. But another has just begun."

The End of an Old Beginning.

The father closed the book, his fingers tightening over the worn leather. "And with that, the last god fell," he murmured. The words clung to the air, heavy, unfinished. The boy's wide eyes gleamed with quiet wonder, unaware of the weight behind them. The story was over. But the war had never ended.

"Goodnight, Vyom."