The scene opens as Dharma steps into the command centre, where the chaos is even more palpable. Monitors display live feeds of cities under siege, each flashing with red alerts. Soldiers shout over each other, their voices a cacophony of panic and desperation.
Soldier 1:
Delhi is about to fall! We need reinforcements!
Soldier 2:
We've lost contact with Bangalore and Chennai—those cities are gone!
Soldier 3 (pointing to a monitor):
Sir look at this! Even the Normies in New York are being wiped out—they're targeting civilians without hesitation!
Dharma steps forward, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade:
Dharma:
Enough!
The room falls silent as everyone turns to him. His presence, amplified by the Sword of Creation, commands instant attention. His eyes scan the monitors, taking in the full scope of the devastation. For a moment, he closes his eyes, his face a mask of grief and anger.
Dharma:
These Sentinels... they were supposed to be protectors. Now, they're nothing more than murderers, consumed by power and hatred. They have turned against everything we stand for.
A junior officer hesitantly steps forward, her voice trembling:
Officer:
Sir... what should we do? The ISS can't hold them off. We're losing this fight.
Dharma opens his eyes, his expression hardening. He grips the Sword of Creation, its glow intensifying as lightning arcs along its edge.
Dharma:
We end this. Once and for all...
The camera follows Dharma as he strides toward the exit. His movements are deliberate, his body language exuding a controlled fury. He pauses at the doorway, looking back at the officers.
Dharma:
Coordinate the remaining ISS forces. Protect the civilians at all costs. I'll handle the rest.
Officer (shocked):
Alone? But Chief—
Dharma (interrupting):
I am no longer just a man. I am the Enforcer of God's will. And this is what must be done.
He steps out on the rooftop again, the sky filled with rising smoke and fire responding to his presence. Lightning flashes across the sky.The Sword of Creation hums with energy, ready to bring justice to a world spiralling into chaos.
The screen fades to black, with the faint sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. The narrator's voice returns, heavy with the weight.
Narrator:
Once, the Sentinels were the guardians of peace. Now, they are harbingers of chaos. And as Dharma Pratap prepares to bring justice to his fractured world, the question remains: Can even an enforcer of the gods save humanity from itself?
The screen fades to flashback of Dharma standing in the vast emptiness of a barren moon, surrounded by jagged rocks and the vacuum of space. He grips the Sword of Creation, its blade glowing faintly. His posture is deliberate, his face focused, beads of sweat forming as he raises the sword.
Narrator:
From the moment he became the wielder of the Sword of Creation, Dharma Pratap knew the truth. Peace forged through fear is as fragile as glass—it breaks with the slightest touch. And so, he sought answers. Not through faith, but through mastery.
The camera shifts to a montage of Dharma testing the sword's capabilities on various battlefields and desolate worlds. Each scene is dynamic, showcasing the extent of his experimentation.
Dharma stands in a storm-filled canyon. Raising the sword, he channels raw energy into it, the blade pulsating brighter with every second. Lightning courses from his body into the sword, creating an explosion that obliterates the canyon walls.
Dharma (panting to himself): Too much mana consumption... at this rate, even I would be drained.
On a rocky plain, Dharma slashes the sword repeatedly, testing his endurance. Sweat drenches his uniform as his muscles tremble under the strain. He leaps into the air, striking with the blade and sending shockwaves that carve massive craters into the ground.
Dharma (panting): It's not just the sword. My body needs to keep .....
Dharma points the sword skyward, summoning the trapped Cosmic Storm. A massive vortex forms, lightning streaking through it. He gestures, directing the storm's fury toward a large hill of barren moon The storm obliterates the entire hill flattening it in seconds.
Dharma: This isn't just destruction. It's annihilation. A power I can't use lightly.
The montage transitions to Dharma experimenting with the divine abilities granted by the sword, each scene more surreal than the last.
On an alien world, Dharma's eyes glow as he uses the sword's hilt to direct his will. A squad of opposing forces freeze mid-charge, their weapons clattering to the ground as they bow to him.
Dharma (calmly): Lay down your arms. Peace doesn't come from chaos.
Dharma halts time amid a battlefield, walking calmly through frozen soldiers and debris. He adjusts their positions strategically before restarting time, giving the ISS an overwhelming advantage.
On a devastated planet, Dharma swings the sword, and the ground reforms, cities rebuilding themselves from the rubble. Civilians watch in awe as their homeworld is restored.
With a slash, Dharma opens a portal large enough to transport an entire fleet. The stars shimmer as he moves armies across galaxies in an instant.
Dharma kneels before a fallen comrade, the sword glowing as it draws his soul into its blade. Moments later, the energy flows back into their body, reviving them.
Revived Soldier (gasping): Sire... what... what did you do?
Dharma (stoic): What was necessary.
The camera shifts to Dharma inside a underground ISS lab. Holograms of Earth's population percentage and graphs appear before him, divided into two categories: Ascendants and Normies. He uses an advanced AI interface to run simulations of possible solutions to the global conflict.
The first simulation runs: Ascendants and Normies live together under heavy regulation. The hologram flashes red with a "0% SUCCESS" rating.
Another simulation: Complete elimination of either Ascendants or Normies. It flashes red again, "FAILED – UNACCEPTABLE."
Dharma sits back, his fingers steepled as he watches simulation after simulation fail. His brow furrows, his frustration barely contained.
Dharma: Peace isn't about control. It's about balance. But how... how do I create balance in a broken system?
Suddenly, the AI generates a new simulation: The hologram shows Earth dividing into two realities as two spheres appear—one for Ascendants, the other for Normies. The simulation flashes 100% SUCCESS in glowing green letters.
Narrator:
In that moment, Dharma realized the truth. The only way to achieve peace was to separate those with powers from those without. No minorities. No dominance. Two realities, each whole in their own right. A solution as drastic as it was perfect.
The camera lingers on Dharma's face, his eyes resolute yet heavy with the weight of what he must do. He speaks softly to himself,
Dharma: Parallel Split.
The screen shifts back to the present, showing Dharma standing atop the roof of the ISS headquarters. The city burns in the distance, alarms blaring from every corner. The Sword of Creation rests in its sheath at his side, glowing faintly.
Dharma reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, weathered pager. His expression is unreadable as he flips the switch. The pager hums softly before emitting a faint chime:
Pager: "Message sent."