(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...

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Far away from the cheerful atmosphere of Mallikavana Village, where laughter, music, and the fragrance of flowers filled every street, there existed a place that seemed untouched by warmth or joy.

Hidden deep inside a dense valley surrounded by black cliffs stood the secret settlement of Pushpasura’s followers.

Unlike ordinary tribal villages, there wasn’t a single colorful decoration or sign of celebration.

Everything there looked grim.

The huts had been built using dark timber taken from burnt forests, while the entrances were decorated with the skulls of wild beasts.

Strange symbols, painted with dried crimson pigment, covered almost every wall.

Wooden poles lined the pathways, each tied with bones that rattled whenever the wind passed through the settlement, producing an eerie sound that made even experienced warriors uncomfortable.

At the very center of the hideout stood the largest structure.

It wasn’t a palace.

Nor was it a temple.

It was a crude hall built entirely to honor the being they worshipped.

Inside the dimly lit hall, dozens of oil lamps burned with an unnatural green flame that gave the entire place an unsettling appearance.

At the far end stood a throne unlike anything seen in the kingdoms of men.

It had not been carved from wood or stone.

The throne was constructed entirely from bones.

The ribs of enormous beasts formed its sides, while countless skulls had been carefully arranged along its backrest.

At the very top rested the skull of an unknown creature with long curved horns, making the throne appear more like a monument to death than a seat of authority.

Sitting upon that throne was an old man.

His age was difficult to determine.

Time had clearly taken its toll upon him.

His hair had turned completely white and hung loosely over his shoulders.

His skin had become rough and wrinkled, marked by countless scars earned through decades of battles and rituals.

One particularly deep scar ran diagonally across his face.

It had destroyed his left eye long ago, leaving behind nothing more than a pale, lifeless socket.

The eye that remained, however, was sharp enough to unsettle anyone who dared meet its gaze.

Resting across his lap was a long wooden staff carved from black wood.

Its surface was covered in ancient runes, and the head of the staff had been decorated with the skull of a venomous serpent whose fangs still remained intact.

The old man was the chief of Pushpasura’s followers.

The leader of the cult that had quietly grown in the shadows for generations.

At first glance, he appeared to be asleep.

His head remained lowered.

His breathing was incredibly slow.

His body hadn’t moved for several minutes.

Yet every now and then...

A sudden violent tremor passed through his body.

His fingers twitched.

His shoulders jerked.

His breathing momentarily became uneven before settling once again.

The cultists standing around him remained completely silent.

None of them dared disturb him.

They knew exactly what state their chief had entered.

He wasn’t sleeping.

His consciousness had descended into meditation.

A sacred trance.

One that allowed him to communicate directly with the god to whom they had devoted their lives.

Deep within that meditative world...

The old chief slowly opened his eyes.

The familiar hall had disappeared.

Instead, he found himself standing in an endless underground realm.

The air itself felt unbearably heavy.

Towering black mountains stretched endlessly into the darkness above.

Rivers of molten lava flowed across the land like blazing serpents, illuminating the surroundings with a deep crimson glow.

The ground constantly trembled beneath his feet, while the distant cries of unknown creatures echoed endlessly through the caverns.

It resembled the ancient descriptions of Patala Loka found in forgotten scriptures.

The old chief immediately lowered his head.

He knew where he was.

Or rather...

Whose presence this realm represented.

A loud metallic sound echoed through the darkness.

Clang...

Clang...

Slowly...

The rivers of lava began moving unnaturally.

The molten streams twisted away from one another as though making way for someone.

Then...

From the center of that infernal landscape...

A colossal figure became visible.

Countless enormous chains wrapped around its body.

Each chain was thicker than the trunk of an ancient tree.

Divine symbols glowed faintly upon every link, suppressing the immense power imprisoned within.

Despite being restrained, the figure stood proudly.

Its massive body was covered in deep cracks that glowed with crimson light, as though unimaginable power was constantly trying to burst free from within.

Yet the chains refused to yield.

They held firm.

The old chief immediately fell to one knee.

Lowering his head until it almost touched the burning ground, he spoke with complete reverence.

"My Lord..."

"This humble servant offers his respects."

For several moments...

Only silence answered him.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Then...

A deep snort echoed across the underground realm.

The sound alone caused the lava to ripple violently.

Pushpasura slowly lowered one of his two heads toward the kneeling chief.

His burning yellow eyes radiated unmistakable fury.

When he finally spoke, his voice shook the entire realm.

"There is a human..."

Every word seemed to crash like thunder.

"...in Mallikavana."

The chief remained motionless, listening.

"He dared..."

Pushpasura’s chains rattled violently as his anger continued rising.

"...to slaughter My Legion."

The old chief’s single eye widened.

His breathing stopped for a brief moment.

’The Legion...?’

Impossible.

Those warriors weren’t ordinary monsters.

Every one of them had once destroyed entire settlements.

Together, they were capable of wiping villages from existence before sunrise.

Yet...

Someone had defeated all of them?

Even the commander?

The chief slowly raised his head in disbelief.

"My Lord..."

"...who possesses such strength?"

Pushpasura let out another growl.

"I care not who he is."

His eyes burned with murderous intent.

"He stands in My way."

"He interferes with My awakening."

"He even mocked Me."

The last sentence came through clenched teeth.

For some reason...

That memory seemed to irritate Pushpasura even more than losing his legion.

The chief immediately lowered his head again.

"Command me, Lord."

Pushpasura’s voice became even colder.

"I want that human dead."

"No matter what methods you employ."

"I care nothing for honor."

"I care nothing for sacrifice."

"When I break these chains..."

His massive fists slowly clenched.

"...I expect to see nothing remaining of that mortal."

"Not his body."

"Not his bones."

"Nothing."

A terrifying pressure filled the entire underground realm.

"Bring me his remains..."

"...or better yet..."

"...ensure there are no remains left to bring."

The old chief struck his forehead against the burning ground.

"It shall be done."

"I swear upon my life."

"My Lord..."

"...before You awaken..."

"...that human shall perish."

The moment those words left his mouth...

The vision shattered.

"AAAAH!"

The old chief suddenly opened both eyes.

He inhaled sharply, his entire body jerking forward as though he had just emerged from deep water.

His breathing became ragged.

Sweat covered his wrinkled face despite the cold air inside the hall.

The wooden staff slipped from his grasp before striking the stone floor.

The loud sound echoed throughout the hideout.

Every cultist immediately rushed toward him.

"Chief!"

"What happened?"

"Did Lord Pushpasura speak?"

The old man slowly raised his head.

His remaining eye still carried traces of the terrifying vision.

For several long moments, he simply continued taking deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

Finally...

He stood.

Leaning heavily upon his staff, he looked toward every warrior gathered inside the hall.

His voice remained hoarse.

"Our Lord..."

"...has given us a command."

The entire hall fell silent.

"There is a human."

"He currently resides within Mallikavana."

"He has destroyed the Lord’s Legion."

Murmurs of disbelief immediately spread through the gathering.

"The Legion...?"

"Destroyed?"

"Impossible..."

The chief struck the ground with his staff.

Boom!

Silence immediately returned.

His expression had become colder than ever before.

"Our Lord desires only one thing."

He slowly looked at every face gathered before him.

"When He awakens... He wishes to see that human erased from existence."

His lone eye gleamed with murderous resolve.

"No matter how many of us must die. ...that man..."

"...must not be allowed to live."

The sound of the chief’s staff striking the stone floor echoed throughout the hall.

Thud.

Thud.

Every step he took was slow.

His body no longer possessed the strength it once had. Years of battles, countless rituals, and the injuries he had accumulated throughout his life had finally begun demanding their price.

One of his legs dragged slightly behind the other as he walked, forcing him to lean heavily on the ancient staff that had accompanied him for decades.

Yet despite his age...

Not a single person in the hall dared underestimate him.

The old man’s authority had never come from physical strength.

It came from unwavering faith.

The hall, which had been filled with whispers only moments ago, gradually fell silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

One after another, the cultists gathered before him.

Warriors carrying axes.

Hunters with long spears slung across their backs.

Women dressed in ceremonial robes.

Young men who had only recently completed their initiation rituals.

Even elderly followers who could no longer fight stood among the crowd, leaning on wooden canes as they waited for their chief to speak.

Within minutes, nearly the entire settlement had assembled inside and outside the great hall.

Hundreds of eyes remained fixed upon the old chief.

He slowly climbed the few stone steps leading to the entrance of the temple hall before turning around to face his people.

The flickering green flames from the ritual torches illuminated the deep scars across his face, making him appear even more intimidating.

For a long moment...

He simply looked at them.

Then he raised his staff.

The murmurs stopped instantly.

"Our Lord..."

His aged voice was rough, yet every word carried clearly across the gathering.

"...has spoken."

A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd.

"He has entrusted us with a sacred duty."

The old chief tightened his grip around the staff.

"There is a mortal."

"A mere human."

"Who has dared raise his weapon against the servants of our god."

Several warriors frowned.

Others clenched their fists.

The chief continued.

"He destroyed the Legion."

The words struck the gathering like thunder.

Many of the younger cultists widened their eyes in disbelief.

Some exchanged confused glances.

Even among Pushpasura’s followers, the Legion had always been spoken of with reverence.

Those monsters were considered invincible.

Yet someone had wiped them out.

The chief struck the ground with his staff again.

"Do not mistake this for weakness."

"Our Lord remains imprisoned."

"The chains forged by the gods still restrain His true power."

"Yet even while sealed..."

"He has already given us His command."

The old man’s voice gradually rose.

"And we..."

"...shall obey."

A loud roar erupted from the gathered followers.

"Glory to Lord Pushpasura!"

"Glory!"

The chief slowly began pacing across the stone platform despite the pain shooting through his injured leg.

Every step caused a slight limp.

Every movement reminded him of the old wounds that refused to heal.

Still...

He never allowed it to slow his speech.

"Tell me!"

he shouted.

"Who are we?"

"The chosen!"

the crowd answered together.

"Who granted us blessings when the gods abandoned us?"

"Lord Pushpasura!"

"Who answered our prayers?"

"Lord Pushpasura!"

"Who shall rule this world once more?"

"Lord Pushpasura!"

The old chief nodded with satisfaction.

His remaining eye gleamed with fanatic devotion.

"Exactly."

"Our Lord has slept beneath the earth for centuries."

"He has endured humiliation."

"He has endured imprisonment."

"He has endured the arrogance of the heavens."

His voice became heavier.

"And now..."

"...a mortal dares to stand between our Lord and His rightful return."

He pointed his staff toward the heavens.

"Does that human believe he can stop destiny?"

"No!"

the crowd roared.

"Does he believe the Bhuloka belongs to him?"

"No!"

"It belongs to whom?"

"Our Lord!"

"Our Lord Pushpasura!"

The cheers grew louder with every passing moment.

The old chief could feel their excitement spreading like wildfire.

He raised both hands for silence.

"The time for hiding is ending."

"The time for waiting is ending."

"The day our Lord returns to Bhuloka draws nearer with every sunrise."

"When that glorious day arrives..."

"...this world shall finally return to its true master."

He slowly looked over every face before him.

"But before that day comes..."

"...one obstacle remains."

"The human."

His voice became cold.

"He must disappear."

"I care not whether it takes ten warriors..."

"...or a hundred."

"I care not how much blood must be spilled."

"If every one of us must give our lives..."

"...then so be it."

Several warriors slammed the butts of their spears against the ground.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

The sound echoed throughout the valley like the drums of war.

The chief raised his staff high above his head.

"Our Lord has spoken."

"His command..."

"...is absolute."

He looked toward the warriors standing in the front rows.

"Sharpen your weapons."

"Prepare the rituals."

"Gather every follower scattered across the forests."

"Inform every hidden shrine."

"Summon every tribe that still carries His mark."

His voice thundered across the settlement.

"We march not for glory."

"We march not for wealth."

"We march because our god has commanded it."

The crowd erupted hearing the battle cry.

Hundreds of voices merged into one deafening roar.

"Lord Pushpasura!"

"Lord Pushpasura!"

"Lord Pushpasura!"

The sound rolled through the valley like a war cry.

Men raised their axes toward the sky.

Hunters lifted their spears.

Women beat ceremonial drums with renewed fervor.

Even the children, not fully understanding what was happening, joined the chants after seeing the excitement of their elders.

The old chief watched the gathering with satisfaction.

The fire he had hoped to ignite had finally taken hold.

There would be no hesitation now.

No fear.

No turning back.

Every soul standing before him believed they were about to participate in a holy war.

Not against another kingdom.

Not against another tribe.

But against the one man who had dared to challenge the return of the god they worshipped.

Far away, beneath the colorful decorations of the Flower Blossom Festival,

Devara remained completely unaware that deep within the hidden forests, an entire army of fanatical followers had just sworn to hunt him down, believing his death to be the first step toward their lord’s resurrection.

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(Author note:)

I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.

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