Chapter 1

  Five thousand years ago, a mystical being—one never heard of before—descended upon the earth. Its body structure resembled that of a human, with two arms and two legs, but its features were anything but ordinary. It had eyes as purple as amethyst, long orchid-colored hair cascading down its back, and shark-like canines that gleamed menacingly. A mysterious purple aura surrounded it, radiating an otherworldly presence.

  According to ancient records, this being was first sighted in Trigarta, a once-peaceful city with a population of around 60,000. When it arrived, it let out a deafening scream that tore through the clouds, a sound so unnatural that the air itself trembled. A crushing force followed, a pressure so immense that it felt as if every bone in the body was about to shatter.

  And then, in a voice that shook the heavens, it declared:

  "The era of worthless, so-called gods is over. It is time to bow before your true god—

  ALMIGHTY NIHIL, THE DIVINITY REAPER!"

  The city was paralyzed. Half the population was so stricken with terror that they couldn't even move a muscle. Thirty percent collapsed instantly, fainting under the overwhelming pressure. The weakest among them—those without 'Tejas'—died on the spot.

  The remaining warriors, those blessed with Tejas, stood their ground. They refused to kneel.

  Twenty of them launched an immediate counterattack, their weapons flashing through the air. But the moment their blades struck the creature's skin, their faces twisted in horror. Their Tejas—gone. They could no longer summon their power.

  A slow, gleaming smirk spread across Nihil's face—a wicked grin stretched from ear to ear, dripping with malice.

  Six of the warriors who had rushed in first stumbled back in panic. But before they could even retreat—

  The creature moved.

  With terrifying precision, its gaping maw engulfed a man's head in a single, crunching gulp, bone and flesh vanishing into the abyss of its throat. With its left hand, it plunged into another's chest, tearing out a still-beating heart as if it were plucking fruit from a tree.

  Then it turned.

  Its glowing violet eyes locked onto the four warriors ahead, their faces pale with dread. It raised its massive right arm, claws clenched into a tight fist.

  And in a voice like a dying whisper, it breathed:

  "Voidburst."

  The instant the word left its lips, its fist shot forward with devastating force, releasing a surging wave of crackling purple energy. The very air howled as the blast collided with the four in front, their bodies rupturing on impact—flesh peeling away, bones shattering, screams dying mid-cry.

  But the carnage didn't end there.

  Behind them, fourteen more warriors were caught in the shockwave, sent hurtling backward like broken dolls. Some were ripped in half, others had their chests caved in, their lifeless forms crashing into the blood-soaked ground.

  When the energy finally dissipated, silence fell—a twisted, suffocating stillness.

  The once-grassy battlefield was now a wasteland drenched in blood, bodies scattered like discarded puppets. The air reeked of burning flesh and death, and the soil beneath was dark, soaked with the lifeblood of the fallen.

  The creature hovered motionless for a moment, its predatory eyes scanning the remains of the fallen warriors. Then, slowly, its feet began to rise, lifting off the blood-soaked ground. An eerie silence fell, as if the world itself held its breath.

  It floated upward, defying gravity, ascending like a cursed deity. With deliberate slowness, it drifted toward the heart of Trigarta, positioning itself directly above the center of the city.

  Panic surged through the remaining humans. Warriors, civilians, children—all began to flee, a desperate stampede of souls trying to outrun death itself.

  Raising both arms high into the air, the creature let out a guttural, inhuman scream that echoed through the sky.

  "SILENCING TORCH!"

  Above its head, a titanic sphere of swirling purple energy began to form, crackling and pulsing like a newborn star of destruction. The energy swelled until it covered half the city, blotting out the sun, casting a sickly amethyst hue over the land.

  Then, in a voice so soft it barely escaped its lips, the creature whispered:

  "Befall."

  The Silencing Torch descended, slowly at first, then accelerating like a meteor of annihilation. The sound was deafening, like a thousand screams trapped within the energy itself. It collided with the earth, engulfing everything in a colossal explosion of smoke, fire, and purple lightning.

  For a moment, Trigarta disappeared.

  Then—silence. A breathless pause. And as the smoke began to clear...

  There it was.

  A brilliant red barrier—domelike, radiant—encompassed the entire city. Every structure, every life, untouched. The monstrous blast had been halted entirely, held back as if by divine will.

  A stunned murmur rippled through the survivors. Then a voice cried out, trembling, half in disbelief:

  "Th–Th–The Emperor of Sapta Sindhu is here! We're saved now!"

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  All eyes turned upward.

  Standing above them, on a raised platform near the city's temple gates, was a man who looked carved from legend itself. His long grey hair flowed like silver threads in the wind, a symbol of wisdom, age, and unmatched experience. He wore a decorated shawl embroidered with golden trefoil patterns, and a headband marked with the royal crest of Sapta Sindhu.

  But it was his eyes—as red as cinnabar, burning with quiet intensity—that stilled the hearts of even the most shaken. They were not the eyes of mercy. They were the eyes of a man who had faced gods—and prevailed.

  This was Agnivardhana, the Emperor of Sapta Sindhu—the first mortal to ever reach 9 Stars in Tejas, and one of the strongest men alive.

  The people's fear shattered like glass, replaced by a wave of hope and awe. For where all else had failed, he had come.

  From behind the crowd, another voice rang out—laced with annoyance and playful frustration:

  "Hah! Always showing off and heading out first, leaving me behind."

  The crowd turned, stunned once again. As if by instinct, people parted to make way for the approaching man.

  He had a long grey beard, a mighty moustache, and shoulder-length hair that swayed with every step. His eyes were as blue as the ocean, deep and unreadable. He wore thick woolen fabric, humble yet dignified, and in one hand, he carried a sword. The sheath was engraved with a single word in bold letters:

  "VINASHAK."

  Before anyone could react, Agnivardhana spoke, his voice calm but edged with sarcasm:

  "I didn't leave you behind, Divyajit. You're just so slow—you've always lagged behind. Even when it came to reaching Nine Stars."

  The old man snorted, his voice rising with mock fury:

  "You damn bastard! If I had the resources you had as an emperor, I would've reached Nine Stars long before you. And don't forget—I still got there, just five years later!"

  A murmur spread through the crowd.

  Someone whispered in awe, "Isn't he the Sword God... Divyajit? The second person to ever reach Nine Stars in Tejas?"

  Another voice, choked with emotion, added softly, "Two of the strongest beings alive... men we only knew through stories... they're really here. No one can defeat them. We're... we're definitely saved."

  The creature's amethyst eyes widened in disbelief, its aura flaring with pure rage.

  "IMPOSSIBLE! I—Asurendra, second in command under the almighty NIHIL—could not even destroy the barrier of mere insects?!"

  Its long orchid hair whipped in the wind as its fury mounted. It clawed at the air, its voice reverberating like a storm.

  "And now, they even dare to speak so freely in my presence?! UNFORGIVABLE! I will erase you ALL from existence!"

  Asurendra's muscles coiled, power crackling around its hands as it prepared to unleash devastation.

  But before it could attack—

  Agnivardhana's majestic voice rang out, deep and commanding. He lifted his hand toward the trembling crowd, toward the unconscious bodies lying on the ground.

  "Kalasanchara."

  A massive rectangular beam of red light erupted from his palm, cascading through the battlefield. As it passed over the people, they vanished, whisked away to safety in an instant.

  The battlefield was no longer a massacre.

  It was now a stage—for war.

  Thus began the battle between humanity's strongest warriors and the mysterious being known as Asurendra.

  The clash shook the heavens and tore the earth asunder. For ten grueling days, their powers collided with such force that even distant lands felt the tremors.

  On the tenth day, the battlefield was soaked in blood and ruin. Agnivardhana knelt amidst the carnage, his legs lost, his once-grey hair now dyed crimson from the blood pouring down his face. His strength was fading fast.

  Divyajit stood beside him, breathing heavily, his only arm—the one that once wielded Vinashak—now gone, severed in battle. Across from them, Asurendra remained upright, but barely. One leg and one arm were all that remained of his body. Yet his twisted aura still pulsed strong, far from defeated.

  In a voice hoarse and weak, Agnivardhana muttered, "I don't think we're making it out of this one alive. I'll use everything I have left to create a barrier. It's your turn to end this... once and for all."

  Divyajit scoffed, trying to hide the pain in his voice. "As much as I hate your arrogant attitude, you're right... I never thought I'd say that."

  He closed his eyes, and a radiant blue aura enveloped his body. His entire being began to glow, energy surging with frightening power. Agnivardhana, now trembling, turned toward the enemy.

  Sensing danger, Asurendra's eyes widened. For the first time in the battle, he felt fear.

  "If you think I'll let you finish that—" he roared, "then you're a fool!"

  He raised his hand to the sky and shouted:

  "SILENCING TORCH: DIVINITY DESTROYER!"

  A massive purple sphere—three times larger than before—formed above. It radiated pure destruction, blotting out the sky.

  As it descended, Agnivardhana's body erupted in red energy. Blood streamed from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. With a final shout, he invoked:

  "RAKSHA KAVACHA!"

  A red barrier—formed of countless interlocking hexagons—wrapped around himself and Divyajit, powered by the very essence of Agnivardhana's Jeevashakti.

  Asurendra snarled, watching the sphere crash down on the barrier. The impact released a cataclysmic blast felt from thousands of kilometers away. The land trembled. Mountains cracked. The sky howled.

  When the smoke cleared, Agnivardhana remained—barely—on one knee. The barrier still shimmered faintly, though cracked and faltering.

  Asurendra's face twisted in disbelief.

  "You... you damn insect! Using your life force just to delay the inevitable? I'll rip you apart!"

  He charged.

  But before his hand could reach Agnivardhana's chest, the emperor vanished.

  Asurendra froze. Confusion turned to dread. A voice echoed from behind:

  "Die."

  A chill ran through his very soul. He turned—only to see Divyajit standing tall, Vinashak in hand, Agnivardhana barely conscious behind him.

  Asurendra's instincts screamed, but it was too late.

  Vinashak had already sliced clean through his torso.

  A soft whisper escaped Divyajit's lips.

  "Pralaya."

  At that moment, Asurendra understood.

  Divyajit had poured all his Tejas into enhancing his muscle speed—to move beyond what any being could perceive—and all his Jeevashakti into the sword itself.

  Explosions erupted from within Asurendra's body—flesh twisting, bones shattering, his insides torn apart by divine force.

  In desperation, he let out a scream and, just before the explosion reached his heart, severed his own torso below it.

  Asurendra was still barely alive—but maybe not for long. His once-mighty form was reduced to a crippled husk, his body mangled beyond recognition. The air reeked of burnt flesh and the metallic tang of blood. As Divyajit stepped forward, his every movement slow and deliberate, Asurendra, for the first time in his existence, felt true terror.

  He started crawling away, dragging his broken form with his single remaining hand. His breathing was ragged, his face twisted in desperation.

  "Stay away from me, you insect!" he shrieked, his voice breaking with a mixture of rage and terror.

  But then, everything changed.

  The temperature of the battlefield plummeted in an instant. The very air itself seemed to distort as if space was warping unnaturally. The ground cracked beneath them, not from force, but from something deeper—as if existence itself was straining under an invisible weight.

  Then, a voice spoke.

  A voice not of a man, nor of a beast, but of something far greater.

  "How weak."

  The words alone carried such unfathomable authority that Divyajit—who had been prepared to end Asurendra—froze mid-step. It was as if his body had forgotten how to move, his instincts screaming that something far beyond his understanding had entered the battlefield.

  A darkness began spreading across the sky, not like nightfall, but something far worse—a void that swallowed light itself. The crimson-stained battlefield, littered with corpses, seemed to shrink under the suffocating pressure of the presence.

  Asurendra, who moments ago had been crawling away in terror, suddenly stopped trembling. His single remaining eye widened, his cracked lips curling into something between a snarl and a twisted smile.

  "Y–Your Holiness..." he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. Was it fear? Or relief?

  A towering shadow emerged from the void, though no true form could be discerned. It was simply... presence.

  NIHIL THE DIVINITY REAPER had arrived.