Mysoap5

When the gods erased his homeland from existence, Astha emerged as the sole survivor—scarred, flame-bound, and remembered only by the ash beneath his feet. Branded by divinity’s cruelty and haunted by a forgotten past, he now walks the ruins of a sacred world with a single purpose: to burn down the heavens that dared to rewrite fate.

Bound to him is Smritidhaara, a cursed chain-sickle forged from the memories of the erased—an extension of Astha’s rage and sorrow. But when he crosses paths with Luv, a thunderborn exile from the celestial realm, their fates intertwine in a war neither of them yet understand.

As buried truths awaken and mythic beasts rise from divine prisons, Astha and Luv must confront ancient gods, dead empires, and a reality that refuses to stay sealed. With every step, the fire grows. The thunder sharpens.

And the gods begin to remember what they tried so hard to forget.

This is not a story of heroes.
It is the beginning of a reckoning.

Ashes of Deva : Rise of the White Flame

The air bent backward as the Record-Eater stepped into the world.

The walls behind it faded from reality, no longer stone but blanks in space — like old pages torn from a book.

Its skin moved constantly, inscribed with erasure glyphs, each one glowing then vanishing, like memories failing to hold themselves together.

"This thing doesn't exist properly," Luv muttered, thunder crawling over his forearms. "It's… decaying logic."

"Worse," Vaidehi whispered, eyes wide. "It's made of forgotten truths."

The Record-Eater tilted its head — not like a creature, but like a puppet trying to understand sorrow.

"Three names," it said, in a voice that sounded like crumbling leaves. "Let's begin the meal."

Smritidhaara unraveled, blazing flame-chain spiraling through the air, wrapping the Record-Eater's limbs.

But the creature didn't stop — it walked through the burn, glyphs eating away at the memory-woven metal itself.

"It's feeding on the past of my weapon," Astha realized. "On the stories bound inside it."

Luv shouted—lightning bursting from his back.

Vajra Flashstep — his body blurred as he kicked the Record-Eater's ribs, thunder cracking like gunfire. The impact connected—

—but the creature's torso disintegrated into mantra fog, reforming a second later behind him.

Its claw raked across Luv's back, symbols burning into his spine again — but different this time:

And forgot what attack he just used.

"It's corrupting causality!" Vaidehi yelled. "Strike it with identity, not power!"

She leapt forward, her blade spinning in a circle.

Silver arcs of divine wind split the air as she slashed a circle of remembrance, her mantras forcing clarity into the battlefield.

Flames spiraled around his body—but this time they shifted colors, turning silver-blue, stitched with burning crimson mantra threads.

His clothes vanished in the light—replaced by a battle coat woven from black celestial silk, stitched with glowing memory-lines, his chest marked with his ancestral sigil:

A flame wrapped around an eye, crossed by a sword.

On his shoulders: plates forged from fossilized mantras.

His boots: scaled with blackened thunder-hide.

Kālaratri reformed in his hand, longer now, curved like a nightmare, covered in layered inscriptions of every name he'd ever sworn to protect.

He summoned Ashvaanta, his new divine sword, forged from the forgotten bones of gods.

No sheath. No weight. The blade simply answered his will.

Astha stepped forward. His voice cut clean:

"I am Astha. Son of the erased. Bearer of Smritidhaara. Wielder of Ashvaanta."

Ashvaanta cleaved through the space in front of him — not just cutting, but reasserting. The Record-Eater howled as its glyphs reeled backward, stunned by the force of selfhood.

Luv rose again, lightning surging wildly.

"Name me this time, freak," he growled.

He launched himself forward with a Thunder Spiral, fists ablaze with storms.

"O lotus of heaven, bloom within blood."

For the first time, it didn't re-form.

It collapsed, body twisting into a spiral of black symbols — then imploding into a rain of nameless ash.

The mask fragment from the Herald cracked open in Astha's pocket.

Chapter 10 – Ashes Against the Nameless