The scene opens, revealing the blood-soaked council chamber of the Primordial Plane. The throne of Rudra dominates the scene-a towering edifice forged from the bodies, weapons, and armour of the defeated gods. The surviving Primordials kneel before him, their faces shadowed with a mixture of fear, reverence, and resignation. Their once-proud forms are battered and bloodied, and their auras dimmed. Rudra sits above them, his fiery red eyes glowing with power, the universe itself-a pulsating orb of infinite colours-cradled casually in his palm.
The voice returns, rich and reflective, tinged with a quiet sense of awe and foreboding:
"And thus, the one who sowed chaos among the wise ascended to supremacy. Rudra-the god among gods-had become more than a ruler. With the death of his kin, their powers absorbed into his being, he was now existence itself. The essence of life and death. The infinite and the finite. The architect of unknown."
Rudra's gaze sweeps over the council, and the gods bow lower, their forms trembling under the weight of his presence. His lips curl into a faint smile, but there is a shadow behind his fiery eyes-a whisper of doubt, invisible to all but himself.
"Yet even he, in his omnipotence, was not immune to questions. The universe-this vast, boundless creation-was now his to command. But even a god of Rudra's might could not be everywhere at once. He knew this. And so, from his throne, he conceived a new idea. A revolutionary idea. Something that would shake the very foundations of creation once again."
Rudra stands from his throne, the motion so fluid and deliberate that it seems to command the very air around him. With a snap of his fingers, he vanishes from the council chamber and reappears in the heart of his universe. The camera follows as he roams through the cosmos, a being of unparalleled power observing his creation.
The narrator's voice continues,
"He stepped into his creation, his very presence bending the fabric of reality around him. Space warped and twisted, stars shifting their courses, galaxies spiralling faster, as though they recognized their master had arrived."
The visuals show Rudra moving faster than light, his form a streak of dark and fiery energy. He traverses endless nebulas, their colours swirling in breathtaking patterns of aqua, violet, and gold. He passes worlds being born-planets forming from cosmic dust, oceans roaring into existence, volcanoes carving the landscapes. On another world, primitive life begins to crawl from the seas, their first breaths a testament to his cosmic ingenuity.
"But even as he wandered the infinite beauty of his universe, his mind turned inward. A single question haunted him, growing louder with every step he took. How could he, alone, truly oversee it all? How could a single being, no matter how powerful, guide the infinite?"
The camera follows as Rudra approaches a dying star. Its once-brilliant light flickers, its energy fading into a hollow, desolate void. He pauses, reaching out with a calm hand. His fingers plunge into the star, tearing into its core, pulling free a shard of pure, blinding energy. The star collapses behind him, its death echoing across the cosmos.
Rudra reappears in the council chamber, the shard of the star burning in his grasp like a piece of the sun. The Primordials watch silently as he strides to the center of the room, where the eternal Fire of Creation blazes-a searing pillar of holy light from which all Primordials were born.
"He carried the heart of a dying star, a fragment of unimaginable power, to the very forge of their existence. And from it, he began to craft a tool of balance. A weapon, born not of war, but of purpose."
Rudra plunges the star's core into the Fire of Creation. The flames roar and rise, consuming the shard in a blinding inferno. As the light burns, Rudra turns to a Primordial seated nearby-a goddess whose form is entwined with vines and flowers, the embodiment of life and growth.
Without a word, Rudra approaches her. His hand extends, and with a single, deliberate motion, he breaks a branch from her being. The goddess gasps in pain, clutching at her side, her vibrant form dimming as tears stream down her face.
"Why...?" she whispers, her voice trembling.
Rudra fixes her with a glare, his eyes burning with silent authority. She falters, lowering her head, unable to meet his gaze.
"The branch became the hilt, an anchor of life to temper the weapon's destructive core. Yet even as he shaped it, the other gods began to murmur."
Rudra retrieves the core from the flames, now a brilliant blade of shimmering aqua blue, pulsating with energy. He raises his hand, snapping his fingers. The universe itself trembles, and from its depths emerges a storm-a swirling mass of antimatter, the legendary Cosmic Storm. The storm is wild, devouring everything in its path, its presence a testament to the universe's chaos.
The council erupts in alarm.
"You cannot control that!" shouts one god, his voice edged with fear.
"This is madness, Rudra!" cries another. "The storm will consume everything!"
Rudra's expression remains calm, almost indifferent. He raises the blade, stepping into the storm. His form glows with power as he wrestles with the entity, bending its energy to his will. With a final surge of force, he stabs the eye of the storm and binds it within the blade, the energy of destruction now bound by the hilt of life.
"Rudra infused the weapon with his essence-life and death, light and darkness. The duality of his being became its tang, a force to rival the cosmos itself."
The camera shows Rudra wrapping the hilt in black and white fabrics, each strip glowing faintly as his power seeps into them. The blade hums with raw energy, the storm within it swirling violently, yet contained.
Satisfied, Rudra steps back. The council watches in tense silence as he raises the blade high.
"Find your wielder," Rudra intones, his voice deep and commanding, his words reverberating through the chamber.
With a flick of his wrist, he casts the blade into the universe orb. It vanishes into the infinite expanse, leaving only a faint ripple behind.
"And so, Rudra's greatest creation was born. A blade of balance, bound to the cosmos itself. A weapon that would seek its rightful wielder, its purpose forever entwined with the fate of the universe."
The camera lingers on Rudra as he returns to his throne, the universe still resting in his palm. The gods kneel before him, their bloodied forms trembling as they glance at the orb, and then at their ruler. Rudra's smile is cold and knowing, his fiery eyes gazing into the infinite.
"And the god who had risen above all others sat upon his throne, the universe in his grasp, his creation now an extension of his will. The Primordials, once the architects of peace, bowed before their master. And Rudra, the god among gods, watched as his plaything-the universe-began its endless journey."
The screen fades to black, the narrator's words echoing:
"Even existence itself could not escape the shadow of its son."