The Void That Follows...

The screen fades to darkness as Rudra's golden form dissolves into cosmic light, the remnants of his energy cascading across the shattered landscape. His voice echoes softly, carrying a mix of regret and finality.

Rudra (echoing):

I had high hopes for you, morta—no, Dharma Pratap. Stand proud, for you have engraved your name in the eternal pages of time...

The echo grows faint, blending with the wind as the scene shifts. The camera pans over the Himalayas, now nearly levelled, their once-majestic peaks reduced to jagged ruins. Rivers of molten rock snake through the land, the aftermath of Rudra's wrath scarring the Earth itself. Smoke and ash rise in thick plumes, blotting out the sun. The air is heavy, the remnants of a battle beyond mortal comprehension lingering like a haunting melody.

The camera focuses on the Sword of Creation, still embedded in the ground where Dharma had fallen. Its blade pulses faintly, glowing with the golden words of Rudra's curse. Around it, the ground is scorched black, yet small cracks begin to form, and faint sprouts of grass push through the cracks—a subtle defiance against destruction.

Three figures approached: Vikram Saha, Suzuki Shinzo, and Rowan Blackwood. They stand silently before the sword, their faces a mix of exhaustion, frustration, and resentment. Vikram speaks first, his voice rough with anger.

Vikram (gritting his teeth):

So, this is how it ends. That fool—our so-called Maheshwara—burned to ashes because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

Suzuki adjusts the sheath of his katana, his eyes narrowing at the glowing sword.

Suzuki (calmly, but cold):

He had everything. A God's backing. Absolute power. The world kneeling at his feet. And instead of ruling with an iron fist, he tries to play saviour?

Rowan (crossing his arms):

Ruler? Savior? It doesn't matter now. His name will be forgotten. His will is gone. And what did he achieve? Nothing but his erasure.

The three of them stand in silence for a moment, the weight of their words settling. Then, Vikram steps forward, cracking his knuckles.

Vikram (grinning darkly):

Well, if he's not here to use it, I say we take it. A weapon like this... it's wasted sitting in the dirt.

Vikram grabs the hilt of the Sword of Creation with both hands, his muscles straining as he attempts to pull it free. His veins bulge, and the ground cracks beneath him, but the sword doesn't budge.

Vikram (growling):

What the hell is this thing made of?! It's like welded to the Earth!

Suzuki smirks, stepping forward with a sharp, mocking laugh.

Suzuki:

Let the real swordsman handle it, Vikram.

He grips the hilt, his spiritual energy flowing into the blade. His aura begins to manifest, glowing faintly as he pulls with precision and grace. Yet, the sword remains unmoved. Suzuki steps back, his smirk replaced by a frown.

Suzuki (gritting his teeth):

下らん(Ridiculous)!. It's like it knows we're not worthy.

Rowan steps forward, his expression grim. He places his hand on the hilt, shadows swirling around him as he channels his powers into the blade. The shadows crackle and hiss, but the sword doesn't move. He pulls back, shaking his head.

Rowan (flatly):

It's not just stuck. It's rejecting us.

Frustrated, Vikram pulls out a bazooka, loading it with precision. He aims it at the sword, his grin widening.

Vikram (mocking):

If we can't take it, I'll blow it to hell. Let's see how indestructible this thing really is.

As he fires, the sword suddenly flares with light—a blinding brilliance that dwarfs the sun itself. The beam explodes outward, bathing the entire mountain range in radiant energy. The three are thrown back by the sheer force of the light, shielding their eyes as the Sword of Creation pulses with a deafening hum.

The camera zooms out, showing the pulse of light travelling across the world and into the cosmos. Stars begin to shimmer and align, their patterns forming constellations that glow with an ethereal brilliance. Across all planes of existence, from mortal realms to the Primordial Plane, a voice resonates—calm, vast, and eternal,

Voice of the Universe:

When two decades of silence have passed in their course,

A sovereign shall rise with celestial force.

From mortal to divine, through destiny's might,

Shall vanquish the throne in a luminous fight.

And ascend to a place in front,

Where gods will lose their ultimate might.

The prophecy echoes through creation, each word resonating like a drumbeat of fate. The effects ripple across all realms:

On Earth, the survivors of the split stop in their tracks, looking to the sky as the words fill their minds. Normies and Ascendants alike are struck with awe and fear, unsure of what the prophecy means. In the Primordial Plane, Rudra freezes on his throne, his fiery eyes narrowing as the prophecy's words reach him. He grips the arms of his throne, his voice a low growl:

Rudra (alarmed):

What is this? A warning? A challenge?

The golden rivers of light in the Primordial Plane begin to churn violently, their glow dimming as Rudra leans forward, his expression dark.

Back on Earth, Vikram, Suzuki, and Rowan stagger to their feet, still dazed by the explosion of light. They stare at the Sword of Creation, now glowing faintly, the golden inscription of Rudra's curse still etched into its surface.

Vikram (angrily):

What the hell was that?! What prophecy?!

Suzuki (quietly):

A sovereign will rise... Vanquish the throne... Gods will lose their might...

Rowan (grimly):

It's not over. Dharma's gone, but something—someone—is coming. And when they do, even Rudra won't be safe.

The camera pans to the Sword of Creation, its glow steady and silent, as if waiting for its next wielder. The words of the prophecy linger in the air, a promise of what is to come.

Narrator:

And so, the universe spoke. The battle was over, but the war was far from finished. For destiny's wheel turns not for gods, nor mortals, but for those brave enough to rise.

The Primordial Plane is no longer the serene, shimmering realm it once was. The rivers of golden light churn violently, their glow dimmed by the collective unrest of the gods. The grand council chamber, a towering amphitheatre carved from pure light and shadow, is filled with the thunderous voices of angry Primordials. Two Universe Orbs, one faintly glowing blue and the other red, hover ominously in the centre of the chamber, a stark reminder of the catastrophic split caused by Dharma's rebellion.

Gods of every form—humanoid, beastly, and otherworldly—stand in their seats or float in the chamber, their voices rising in a heated argument. The chamber quakes under the weight of their fury as accusations and scornful remarks fly across the room.

A Mocking God:

Rudra, the Supreme One! The Master of Life and Death! Afraid of a mere mortal! Ha!

The laughter echoes, spreading among younger gods who relish the opportunity to see Rudra humbled.

An Elder God (angrily):

Silence! This is no laughing matter! The prophecy threatens us all. A mortal ascending to our realm? Coming for our heads? Such a thing has never happened before!

A Stern God (pointing at Rudra):

And yet, it was Rudra who broke the sacred rule. The rule he himself laid down in stone! That no god shall interfere with the processes of the universe. No matter the cost, no matter the collapse!

A Younger God (mocking):

Indeed! And now we learn that he chose a wielder? Kept this mortal tool hidden from us for all this time? What else has he been hiding, I wonder?

The council chamber erupts into chaos again, voices overlapping in heated accusations and debates.

Some gods stand in anger, pointing at Rudra, while others recline in curiosity or fear. The camera pans to groups of gods, each voicing their opinions.

The Mockers:

Younger gods, drunk on the opportunity to ridicule Rudra. 

Mocking God: And what did it achieve, Supreme One? You erased him, and yet the prophecy still stands! For all your power, you only brought chaos to your creation! 

Elder gods, furious at Rudra's hypocrisy.

Angry god: All these aeons, you ruled over us with an iron fist. Yet you are the first to break the very laws you enforced upon us! Do you expect us to obey you still, when you defy your own rules? 

Ancient gods who look more worried than angry, whispering to one another. 

Worried God (whispering): An ascendant mortal...? If one can ascend, what stops others from doing the same? Could we all... fall?

A smaller group of gods who remain loyal to Rudra, stand silent but glaring at the dissenters.

Rudra, seated on his golden throne at the head of the chamber, has remained silent throughout the chaos. His fiery eyes burn brighter with every insult, every accusation. Finally, he slams his fist onto the armrest of his throne, and the entire chamber falls silent, trembling under the weight of his fury.

Rudra (roaring):

SILENCE!

The chamber quakes, and the rivers of light outside roar like thunder. Many gods recoil in fear, their forms dimming slightly under the weight of Rudra's voice.

Rudra (rising from his throne):

You dare mock me? You dare question my rule? Have you all forgotten who I am? I am Rudra! I am the Creator! The Destroyer! The Eternal!

His voice lowers, sharp as a blade.

Rudra:

Yes, I broke the rule. And I broke it because it was necessary. A mortal dared to tear apart my creation, dared to challenge the order I forged with my own hands. Would you have me sit idly by while the universe unravelled? Would you have me allow chaos to consume all we built?

He steps forward, his fiery gaze sweeping across the chamber.

Rudra:

You speak of the rule as if it is sacred. But what are rules, if not tools to maintain order? And if a tool fails, it must be reforged.

Rudra raises his hand, and the two Universe Orbs float higher, their glow intensifying. His voice grows calm, but his words carry an unshakable authority.

Rudra:

If the rule is your concern, then I shall fix it here and now. A new law shall be written. From this moment forward, every god who possesses the wisdom and strength to influence the mortal realm may choose a representative—a wielder to act as their shield and sword.

Gasps rippled through the chamber. The mocking gods fall silent, their arrogance replaced by awe. The camera pans to the elder gods, their expressions shifting from anger to intrigue.

Rudra:

This will not only grant you the ability to enact your will, but it will also restore balance to the universe. Through wielders, our influence shall grow without shattering the order of creation. And through them, we shall face the one prophesied to rise against us.

Rudra's inner monologue echoes as he continues speaking.

Rudra (inner monologue):

The sovereign... I may have silenced one rebellion, but the wheel of fate turns faster now. Through this law, I will control their rise. And if it must come to war, I will ensure that I crush them before they ever reach my throne.

Rudra (aloud):

Let this new law mark the beginning of a new age for the gods. A competitive age, where our wielders shall shape the future of the cosmos!

Rudra raises his hand, and the gods follow suit. Thousands of divine weapons appear—blades, bows, staffs, hammers, and more—each radiating the unique power of its creator. The chamber fills with glowing light as the gods cast their weapons into the Universe Orbs.

One god throws a spear, its tip burning with eternal flame. Another casts a shield made of pure starlight. A massive warhammer, crackling with thunder, spins into the orb. A delicate bow, strung with threads of moonlight, floats gently into the glowing sphere.

Rudra (commanding):

Go now, to the farthest reaches of creation. Find your wielders. Those worthy of your strength. Those who will carry your will across the stars.

The Universe Orbs pulse with energy as the weapons disappear, scattering across the cosmos in search of their chosen wielders. The chamber dims as the gods lower their hands, watching silently as the new age begins.

As the gods disperse, the camera focuses on Rudra, standing alone in the chamber. His fiery eyes narrow as he gazes at the Universe Orbs, his voice a low growl.

Rudra:

Sovereign... whoever you are... you will not succeed. I will be ready for you. And when the time comes, you shall know the full wrath of Rudra.

The screen fades to black, with the words of the prophecy faintly echoing one last time:

From mortal to divine, through destiny's might, shall vanquish the throne in luminous fight...

The camera fades into the bustling chaos of a hospital in Mumbai. Nurses and doctors rush through brightly lit hallways, their footsteps echoing on the polished floors. The sound of a woman's cries cuts through the air as the scene transitions to a delivery room. A young woman lies on the bed, drenched in sweat, gripping the rails tightly as she labours to bring a new life into the world.

Doctor (calmly, but urgently):

One more push! You're doing great!

The mother groans, her face contorted with pain and determination. Beside her, a worried man holds her hand, whispering words of encouragement.

Father (softly):

You can do this dear! Just one more. Our child is almost here.

The camera focuses on the woman's face, capturing her raw emotion. The lighting softens as the baby's first cries echo through the room. The doctor holds up the newborn, a healthy child glowing faintly under the hospital lights.

Doctor (smiling):

It's a boy! Congratulations!

Nurses rush to clean the baby, wrapping him in a warm blanket before placing him in the mother's arms. The parents gaze at their child, tears of joy streaming down their faces. The father leans closer, his voice trembling with emotion.

Father:

Welcome to the world, little one.

As the baby's first cries echo in the hospital on normies Earth, the scene shifts to Ascendant Earth, where the Sword of Creation still stands embedded snow pilling around it in the ground of the Himalayas. The camera zooms in on the blade, which glows faintly as if waiting.

Narrator (calm, yet weighty):

And as life began anew in one world, destiny stirred in another. The wheel of fate turned once more, and the Sword of Creation awakened, its light reaching across the stars.

The scene shifts to the Primordial Plane, where Rudra sits on his golden throne. His fiery eyes are fixed on the two Universe Orbs, hovering before him like twin suns. The blue orb representing Normie's Earth glows faintly, showing the hospital in Mumbai. The red orb representing Ascendant Earth glimmers brightly, displaying the pulsing Sword of Creation.

Rudra leans forward, his fingers gripping the armrests of his throne tightly. For the first time in aeons, there is no arrogance in his expression—only anticipation, his breath shallow as he watches the unfolding events.

Rudra (softly, to himself):

The wheel turns... The prophecy begins.

The orbs flicker as the light from both worlds intensifies, creating a connection between them. Rudra's gaze shifts back and forth, his voice low but tense.

Rudra (internal monologue):

A mortal born in the realm of Normies... yet the sword awakens in the Ascendant plane. How? What is this convergence of destiny? Could this... be the one?

The camera focuses on Rudra's face, his fiery eyes narrowing as a bead of golden sweat rolls down his temple. For the first time, doubt flickers in his gaze.

Rudra (whispering):

Show yourself, sovereign. Let me see the one who dares to challenge the gods.

Narrator:

And so, the threads of fate once again wove themselves into existence. A child born in the mortal realm. A sword awakened in the other. And a god watching with bated breath, his throne trembling beneath him. A new journey had begun.

Rudra:

Twenty years... Twenty years until the prophecy's fulfilment. I will not sit idle. Let them rise. Let them struggle. And when the time comes, I will crush them beneath my heel.

The scene fades to black as Rudra's voice echoes across the Primordial Plane, carrying his unshakable resolve.

Rudra (echoing):

I am the Creator. I am the Destroyer. And I will not fall.

Author's note:

Hello readers,

Thank you for reading until now. This marks the end of the first arc, and I'm truly grateful for your support and engagement with the story.

Your votes, reviews, and comments are incredibly valuable to me as an author. They provide motivation, insight, and inspiration that help shape the narrative in ways you might not imagine.

I'm pleased to announce that the second arc will continue after a brief hiatus.Arc 2 will begin on May 2, 2025, with the first chapter dropping at 6 pm IST (+5:30 GMT) . I am looking forward to sharing the next chapter of this journey with you all.

With sincere appreciation,

A.C