The scene opens on the ISS headquarters rooftop, where Dharma Pratap, Rowan Blackwood, Suzuki Shinzo, and Vikram Saha stand together, their faces set with grim determination. The city below burns, sirens wail, and the air is thick with tension. Dharma holds the Sword of Creation tightly, its blade faintly glowing, as if anticipating the monumental task ahead. Rowan takes a deep breath and snaps his fingers.
Rowan:
"It's time. We move to the highest point in the world. No distractions, no interruptions."
The shadows beneath the group expand and swirl upward, wrapping them in a cocoon of darkness. In an instant, they vanish from the rooftop, reappearing on the frigid, snow-covered summit of Mount Everest. The camera pans out to reveal the world's highest peak, its jagged cliffs and icy ridges illuminated by the faint glow of the Sword of Creation.
The wind howls viciously, but Rowan raises his hands, his eyes glowing with a faint purple hue. Shadows spread outward from his feet, forming a domain around the group. The harsh winds and biting cold are immediately silenced within the barrier.
Rowan:
"I've created a perfect shadow domain. No storm, no outside force will reach us here."
Vikram steps forward, planting his feet firmly in the snow. His massive arms flex and the ground beneath them trembles as his Ascendant power fortifies the shadow domain with unyielding strength.
Vikram:
"My strength will keep this dome intact and no strain and damage shall fall upon us, even if the world itself crumbles. Just don't take too long, Dharma."
Suzuki removes his haori coat and drapes it neatly over a nearby rock. His katana gleams as he unsheathes it, the blade humming faintly with spiritual energy. He kneels in the snow, closing his eyes as his astral form begins to rise from his body—a glowing figure of pure spiritual energy that flows into Dharma.
Suzuki:
"My spirit will strengthen yours, Dharma. Your body will endure this trial, no matter how much it demands."
Dharma looks at each of them, nodding in silent gratitude. He strides to the edge of the peak, his footsteps deliberate, and begins removing his jacket and shirt. His toned and scarred body glows faintly with divine energy as he unsheathes the Sword of Creation. The blade pulses with raw power, casting a surreal glow over the icy landscape.
Dharma grips the sword tightly with both hands, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He raises it high above his head, his voice ringing out over the mountain as he begins the incantation:
Dharma:
I am the weaver who threads the fabric of realities...
The mountain beneath them vibrates violently, loose rocks tumbling down its slopes. Snow begins to shift, and avalanches form on distant ridges. The wind outside the shadow domain grows more ferocious, howling like an enraged beast.
Dharma (continuing)
I am the hunter of celestial might, The one who commands both shadow and light.
The sky begins to darken unnaturally, swirling clouds blotting out the sun. The sword pulses with a reddish hue, then shifts to green, blue, purple, yellow, and finally settles into a brilliant white. The light illuminates the entire mountain, casting eerie shadows across the domain.
Dharma:
Return the cosmos to chaos sublime, The four winds to whispers of time!!!!
Lightning streaks across the sky, and the mountain quakes harder. The stars above twinkle faintly as if watching the scene unfold, while cracks form in the ground, revealing the glowing lava of the Earth's core beneath.
Dharma:
Let the threads that bind worlds to dreams unwind!! Now all existence shall fracture and fade!! As reality servers under ancient Blade!
The camera cuts to the Primordial Plane, where Rudra sits on his golden throne. The rivers of light that flow through the realm begin to ripple and quake. His eyes snap open, and he sits upright, gripping the armrest of his throne tightly.
Rudra (shocked):
"What's happening?!"
The Orb of the Universe appears before him, glowing chaotically. Rudra leans forward, his expression shifting from shock to anger.
Rudra:
"No... this power... it's mine! Dharma, you dare defy me?! You dare to sever the very threads of my creation?!"
Back on Everest, Dharma raises the Sword of Creation high above his head. The blade's aura extends infinitely, reaching beyond the horizon, its light brighter than the sun. His body trembles violently under the immense pressure, veins glowing with divine energy as he pushes past his limits.
An astral projection of Rudra appears in the sky, mirroring Dharma's actions. Rudra's form looms over the mountain, holding an identical Sword of Creation. His voice thunders across the heavens.
Rudra (roaring):
"You will not survive this, Dharma! The power of the gods will consume you!"
Dharma grits his teeth, his muscles straining as he tightens his grip on the sword. His voice was strained but resolute,
Dharma:
Art of Creation! Severance of Worlds!
He brings the sword down in a massive arc, the blade's energy slicing through the sky itself. The entire mountain quakes violently as the air splits apart, revealing the stars beyond. The ground beneath them fractures, glowing lava spilling forth. The camera zooms out to show the Earth itself splitting—the atmosphere ripping apart, and the planet dividing into two halves.
From the Primordial Plane, Rudra watches in horror as the universe itself begins to split. Galaxies are torn apart forming copies, their stars separating into two distinct realities. The camera zooms in on one galaxy, showing two identical Earths forming side by side, one glowing faintly blue, the other red. Each reality begins to stabilize as the split completes.
Narrator:
"Under the strain of the Sword of Creation, the universe split into two distinct realities. One for those with power, and one for those without. A fragile balance achieved through the sheer will of Dharma Pratap."
Back on Everest, Dharma collapses to his knees, the Sword of Creation still glowing faintly in his hand. His breathing is ragged, his body trembling with exhaustion. The shadow domain fades, and Rowan, Vikram, and Suzuki rush to his side.
Rowan (shocked):
"He did it. That son of a bitch did it!."
Suzuki (grinning faintly):
"And you're still alive. Barely."
Vikram (clapping Dharma's shoulder):
Rest, brother. The hard part's over.
The camera cuts back to Rudra, who stands in the Primordial Plane, where the golden rivers of light quake violently, and the sky of the realm fractures like a shattered mirror. His face contorted with rage, Rudra stands from his throne, his fiery eyes blazing with fury as his voice thunders across creation.
Rudra (roaring):
You've defiled my creation! DHARMAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!"
The camera zooms out to show the entirety of the Primordial Plane trembling under Rudra's wrath. The rivers of light turn red and the ground beneath his throne begins to crack. He raises his hand, tearing through the fabric of reality as his form begins to materialize in the mortal realm.
On Mount Everest, the shadow domain fades, leaving Dharma kneeling on the cracked ground, his breathing ragged, the Sword of Creation still glowing faintly in his hand. The camera shifts to the sky, where the atmosphere begins to distort. The stars blink in and out of existence, and the universe itself trembles as Rudra's form materializes.
Reality warps and tears apart when Rudra appears. His presence twists the environment—colours invert, gravity waves, and the air itself becomes heavy with his overwhelming power. His towering figure radiates divine energy, his form encased in flowing red and black clouds, and his fiery eyes glaring at Dharma.
Narrator (somber):
The god among gods, the master of life and death, had descended. And the universe quaked under the wrath of its creator.
Rudra's voice is a deep hiss, filled with venomous rage:
Rudra:
Dharma! my sworn wielder. You dare defy me?! You dare to tear apart the order of the universe I forged?!
Rudra turns his gaze to the three men, his voice dripping with disdain:
Rudra:
Out of my way, puny mortals, unless you desire a wrathful death.
The mountain quakes violently as Rudra steps forward. With a flick of his wrist, an entire section of the peak where Suzuki, Rowan, and Vikram stand shatters, sending the three Ascendants flying. They land on a distant ridge, coughing and gasping for air as they feel the crushing weight of Rudra's presence. The camera focuses on their faces, wide-eyed with terror.
Rowan (choking):
This... this is a literal god...
Suzuki (clutching his chest):
I can't... even breathe... The air itself is gone.
Vikram (struggling):
He... flicked us away... like insects...
The camera shifts back to Dharma, who struggles to his feet, using the Sword of Creation for support. Despite his exhaustion, a faint smile plays on his lips as he locks eyes with Rudra.
Dharma (weakly, smiling):
"So... you finally show up, huh? The Devadidev. The master of life and death... Rudra."
Rudra's form seems to grow larger, his aura distorting the very fabric of reality around him. His voice is cold, seething with rage:
Rudra:
Speak, mortal! You were supposed to bring peace with the powers in your hand, to be my enforcer! Yet you dared to defy me, to rend apart the order of the universe! You tore apart the links I forged. You shattered my creation! What is your purpose behind this heresy? ANSWER ME!
The universe itself trembles as Rudra roars, his anger shaking the very stars. Dharma straightens slowly, his breathing still laboured. He looks Rudra in the eye, his voice calm but resolute.
Dharma:
My purpose? My purpose was never yours to write, Rudra.
He takes a step forward, his body trembling under the weight of Rudra's presence, but his voice grows stronger.
Dharma:
I see you now, for what you truly are—a tyrant cloaked in the guise of a creator. You claim to bring peace, yet in your name, I have destroyed countless lives. Those who didn't kneel to your will were erased. You didn't seek peace, Rudra. You sought obedience. You sought submission. And I was your tool to enforce it.
Rudra's fiery eyes narrow, his anger barely contained as Dharma continues.
Dharma:
But I am no longer your tool..... I see the truth now. Fate and destiny... they are not meant to be dictated by some unseen hand, written as an iron code to be obeyed without question. Fate should be one's own to control. And if I must defy you to prove it, then so be it.
He tightens his grip on the Sword of Creation, standing tall despite the immense pressure bearing down on him.
Dharma:
I will stand for it... till the end.
Rudra's expression shifts, his rage tempered with a cold, cruel smile. His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it carries an unimaginable weight:
Rudra:
You dare preach to me, mortal? You dare lecture the god who forged existence itself?
His smile fades, replaced by a venomous glare as he raises his hand. Energy crackles around him, distorting the air as he summons his weapon—a trident forged from pure cosmic energy, its form shifting and flickering like a living entity.
Rudra:
You've made your choice, Dharma. I hope you understand what's coming.
He raises the trident, pointing it directly at Dharma.
Rudra:
It won't be quick. It will be excruciating, and prolonged. You will live each moment for what will feel like eternity, and it still won't end. Even if you beg for mercy without tongue or mouth, you will never be blessed with the release of death.
The ground beneath Rudra splits further as he takes a step forward, his cosmic blade radiating power.
Rudra:
Prepare yourself, Dharma. This will be your unmaking.