Chapter 2 Birth
Dhruv took the child in his arms, tears of joy streaming down his face. Despite the madness unfolding outside, this moment felt sacred, untouched by the cosmic chaos.
"Rudra," Meera whispered, her exhausted face glowing with maternal love.
"His name is Rudra."
The new parents shared a brief moment of perfect joy as they beheld their son. But their happiness was shattered by an inhuman roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of their home.
Dhruv rushed to the window, his blood turning to ice at the sight that greeted him. Monstrous creatures were emerging from cracks in the earth—abominations with too many limbs, eyes where no eyes should be, bodies that seemed to looks like a horse but it is not look alike a normal horse.
And they were hungry.
The first wave of creatures descended upon the nearest homes, tearing through walls as if they were paper, devouring anyone they could catch. Screams filled the air as people fled in terror.
"We must go, now!" Dhruv shouted, helping Meera to her feet despite her weakened state.
"The cellar—it's our only chance!"
Supporting his wife, who clutched their newborn son to her chest, Dhruv began to lead them toward the trap-door that opened to the small storage cellar beneath their home.
But before they could reach it, a massive claw ripped through the outer wall of their house, sending debris flying in all directions.
The impact threw them to the ground. Meera curled her body around Rudra, protecting him with her own flesh as chunks of their home rained down around them.
Dhruv scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around frantically until they landed on the old sword that hung on the wall—a family heirloom, passed down through generations.
He had always considered it a decorative piece, a connection to ancestors he had never known. Now, it was their only hope.
As the monstrous appendage probed further into their home, Dhruv grabbed the sword. To his surprise, it felt perfectly balanced in his hand, as if it had been waiting for this moment.
"Go!" he shouted to Meera, positioning himself between his family and the creature.
"Get to the cellar! I'll hold it off!"
Meera, still weak from childbirth but driven by maternal instinct, crawled toward the cellar entrance, Rudra clutched tightly against her.
The infant, remarkably, made no sound, as if he somehow understood the need for silence.
The creature's head pushed through the hole it had made—a nightmarish visage with multiple jaws arranged in concentric circles, each lined with razor-sharp teeth. Its numerous eyes fixed on Dhruv, recognizing him as prey.
In that moment, something awakened in Dhruv—an instinct he had never known he possessed. As the creature lunged, he moved with unexpected grace, the ancient sword singing through the air.
The blade connected with the monster's flesh, drawing ichor that sizzled where it touched the ground.
"Screech"
"Boom!"
The creature recoiled, surprised by the resistance. But it quickly regrouped, its multiple limbs lashing out in a blur of motion.
Dhruv dodged one, parried another, but a third caught him across the chest, opening a deep gash. He stumbled back, gasping in pain, but kept his footing. His eyes darted to the cellar entrance, where Meera was struggling with the heavy door.
"GO!" he roared again, summoning strength he didn't know he had. He launched himself at the creature, driving the ancient blade deep into one of its eyes.
The monster's shriek was deafening.
"Ahhhhhh!"
It thrashed wildly, knocking Dhruv aside, but its attention was now fully on him rather than Meera and Rudra.
As Meera finally managed to open the cellar door and disappear inside with their son, Dhruv felt a strange calm settle over him. He might die here, but his family—his son—would live. That was enough.
But destiny had other plans for Dhruv. As he faced the wounded but still deadly creature, he felt something stir within him—a power that seemed to flow from the ancient sword into his body. His vision sharpened, his reflexes quickened, and knowledge of combat techniques he had never learned flowed into his mind.
With newfound prowess, Dhruv engaged the monster again. This time, his movements were precise, lethal. The blade found vulnerable spots with unerring accuracy. Within minutes, the creature lay dead at his feet, its multiple limbs still twitching.
Exhausted but victorious, Dhruv retrieved his family from the cellar. Outside, the sounds of battle and death continued. The invasion had only just begun.
"We cannot stay here," he told Meera, helping her wrap Rudra more securely. "We need to find others, somewhere defensible."
And so began their first night as parents—not with the peaceful rest they had planned, but with a desperate flight through streets overrun by monsters. Dhruv led the way, the ancient sword now an extension of his arm, cutting down any creature that threatened his family.
They were not alone in their flight. Other survivors joined them—neighbors, strangers united by the singular goal of survival. By dawn, they had found temporary refuge in the ruins of an ancient temple, its stone walls somehow resistant to the creatures' attacks.
It was here, as the first light of a new day illuminated their exhausted faces, that Dhruv made a discovery that would change the course of humanity's resistance.
Hidden beneath centuries of dust, the temple walls were covered in carvings—depictions of warriors performing impossible feats, their bodies enhanced by energies that flowed from within and without. These were not religious icons but instructional diagrams—training manuals for arts long forgotten.
As Rudra slept in his mother's arms, Dhruv studied these ancient teachings. Something in his blood resonated with them, as if awakening knowledge that had always been there, dormant.
He did not know it then, but he had taken the first step on a path that would transform him from a desperate father into humanity's greatest defender.
And Rudra, sleeping peacefully despite the chaos of his birth.
The war for Earth's survival had begun. The age of warriors was returning.