But then— A roar, louder than any before, tore through the heavens. The sky cracked open with blinding light. Asura's eyes narrowed. His amusement faded. Above the throne room, through the blood-red clouds and fractured light, a massive shadow fell from the sky—A beast of immense size, crashing into the marble plains of the celestial courtyard.
It was Apollyon.The feared seven-headed hell dragon, summoned from the depths of the underworld, now lay still—its monstrous form broken, shattered, and unmoving.
Each of its seven heads had been severed, lying in a brutal arc across the battlefield like fallen titans. Dark blood soaked the divine stones. Smoke rose from the gashes in its scales, and its once-roaring mouths now hung lifeless.
Above it, soaring with fierce elegance, wings blazing like stars, was the mighty Qilin Dragon. Its divine mane shimmered gold and sapphire, lightning coursing through its scales. It flew in silent triumph, circling once, then letting out a cry of victory—a cry that pierced through despair and lit a spark in every soul still breathing.
Down below, the celestial soldiers—battered, bruised, grieving—lifted their heads. Their gazes followed the divine dragon's path across the sky.
Fury boiled in Asura's eyes as he stared at the mangled remains of Apollyon, his mighty hell-dragon. The beast he had summoned from the abyss, the creature meant to tear down heaven itself—slain, its heads severed and cast to the ground like discarded weapons.
High above, the victorious Qilin Dragon soared, its presence now not just powerful, but defiant.
Asura's rage erupted.
With a guttural cry, he stood from the Celestial Throne, raising his arm toward the skies. A swirl of darkness gathered in his hand, forming his infamous blade—the Hellfang, forged in the heart of eternal flame, pulsing now with overwhelming dark energy.
Without a word, he hurled the sword toward the Qilin Dragon. It shot forward like a black comet, cutting through clouds and air, screaming toward the divine beast with death etched into its edge.
The heavens held their breath. Just as the blade was about to strike—
CLANG!
A blinding light burst in the sky. Another sword, radiant and thunder-forged, collided mid-air with the Hellfang. The force of the impact shattered clouds, casting a dome of wind and lightning across the battlefield.
The dark blade was deflected—knocked off course, spinning and crashing harmlessly into the ground far from the Qilin. Gasps rose from the celestial forces. Asura's eyes widened, the first hint of shock cracking through his fury.
"No one…" he growled, stepping forward, "no one should be able to stop my sword."
From within the golden light where the divine blade had come, a figure slowly emerged, descending from the sky with calm, measured grace.
The skies trembled once more.
Demon God Asura, still seething from the interruption of his fatal strike, floated high above the ruins of the celestial battlefield. His blackened aura surged like a storm, curling around him like a living shadow. Eyes blazing with wrath, he raised his voice—deep, commanding, echoing through the clouds and the broken heavens.
"Show yourself! Enough of these tricks. Face me as a warrior if you dare!"
All eyes turned upward.
Rising through the golden mist atop the back of the mighty Qilin Dragon, a figure stood—cloaked in calm radiance, regal yet resolute. Draped in flowing robes woven with threads of starlight, adorned in celestial armor that shimmered like the northern lights, the figure raised his head, and revealed his face.
It was Avyaan. His presence quieted the winds. His eyes were like twin moons—calm but infinite, holding galaxies of power and purpose. The celestial beings who still stood rose to their feet. Gasps and whispers echoed among them. "I command you now, Demon God—leave the Celestial Realm.This place does not belong to your corruption. If you refuse—you shall fall."
Then came a low growl from Asura. He lifted his hands, dark fire swirling into his palms.
"You threaten me?" he spat and a dark snarl escaped from Asura's lips as the celestial throne trembled beneath him. His command ripped through the sky like a thunderclap.
"Come forth, my legion!"
From the torn veil between realms, hordes of infernal demons emerged—creatures birthed in the deepest pits of the void. They screamed and howled, their wings of ash spreading across the heavens. Each one was forged in chaos, bathed in blood magic, their fangs thirsting for divine flesh.
They surged toward Avyaan, who stood unmoving upon the Qilin Dragon's back, his blade still sheathed, eyes calm as still water.
As the demonic swarm closed in, Avyaan slowly unsheathed his sword. A whisper of cosmic wind coiled around it. With a single graceful spin, he twirled the blade in the air, sending forth a radiant shockwave—a spiral of pure celestial energy, sharp as light and deep as creation itself.
In the blink of an eye, the entire demon legion was cut down, disintegrated into dust and fading screams. Their bodies never even touched him. The air crackled, and silence fell like a blanket.
The heavens watched in awe. Asura's fury exploded. With a roar the he launched himself into the sky, his dark aura trailing like a comet of shadow. His black armor ignited with hellfire, and in his hands, he gripped two molten axes—forged from the bones of fallen stars. He flew toward Avyaan with god-killing intent. But Avyaan met him midair—his sword ablaze with divine flame, eyes glowing with ethereal power. When their blades met, it was as if day and night collided.
Clang!
The impact sent shockwaves across realms. Mountains cracked. Rivers reversed. Time itself seemed to stagger.
They moved at speeds no mortal or god could follow—Asura's savage power against Avyaan's divine precision. Sparks rained across the sky as they exchanged blow after blow, light clashing with shadow, fate colliding with fury.
The sky had not known peace in days. Sunlight barely pierced through the thick storm clouds above the Celestial Realm. Thunder cracked endlessly. The winds themselves seemed to mourn, as Avyaan and Asura clashed without rest—gods in relentless combat. Every blow from Avyaan was graceful but lethal—his sword danced like a ribbon of fire, divine energy radiating from every strike. And though Asura's strength remained monstrous, he could no longer match the speed or precision of his opponent.
Avyaan's blade found him again and again, slicing through armor forged in the pits of hell. A deep gash on Asura's side. Another across his shoulder. His once-unstoppable form now showed signs of fatigue. His breath grew heavier. His swings more desperate. The celestial skies watched with growing hope.
But Asura was not a god who would accept defeat—not even from fate.
Weakened by days of battle, Asura's pride had finally given way to cunning. Hidden within the shattered remains of the Celestial Hall, he began chanting in the tongue of the forsaken—a language older than the realms themselves. His blood mixed with ash as he drew a rune of corruption in the air, its lines pulsing with vile energy. The ground trembled and the skies flickered dark.
From the spell's center, multiple copies of Asura emerged—phantoms cloaked in smoke and flame, each bearing his terrible visage and dark blade. Ten. Then twenty. Then more.
Avyaan, watching from above, narrowed his eyes. The shift in the air was sharp. Wrong. He could feel the taint of forbidden magic, but there was no time to hesitate—the clones charged at once, surrounding him like a tidal wave of darkness.
Avyaan met them with elegance and power. His blade carved through each one with precise fury. One by one they shattered into plumes of smoke—but none were the true Asura. Then, at the exact moment Avyaan struck a final decoy mid-air
Snap!
A web of god binding black chains erupted from the void behind him—serrated, dripping with ancient curse marks. They wrapped around Avyaan's limbs, moving faster than thought. His legs flared as he struggled, but the trap had been woven too carefully, too wickedly.
A binding circle lit up beneath him—etched in voidlight, created from the very essence of betrayal. Forbidden magic born from the fall of gods. From the shadows, the real Asura stepped out, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
"You fight like a god," he growled, "but I conquer like a demon."
The trap pulled Avyaan downward. His sword fell from his hand, clanging against the sealed magic circle. The skies flickered, and the celestial realm gasped in despair again.
The skies above the Celestial Realm were no longer golden. What was once a kingdom of eternal light and harmony had become a wasteland of ash and ruin. Towers lay shattered, rivers of light had dried into cracked marble paths, and the divine gardens were nothing more than scorched fields. The once-majestic winds carried only the cries of the wounded and whispers of despair. Through this silence, Rohan walked alone, cloaked in the aura of his divine weapon, Vajrastra, its light dimmed by the sadness in his heart.
"This… this cannot be the heaven from the last time…" he whispered.
Every step he took felt heavier, not from exhaustion, but from the grief of the broken realm around him. His heart beat faster—not just for the war he sensed, but for the one he searched for.
"Avyaan… where are you?"
Suddenly, a glint of movement drew his attention. Among the ruins of the battlefield, he saw a figure lying still.
Rushing forward, he dropped to his knees. It was Tina—her armor broken, her clothes torn and bloodied, but her chest rose faintly.
"Tina! You're alive…!"
He gently turned her to the side, pressing his hand to her wound and whispering a soft healing chant he had learned in the mortal realm. Her eyes fluttered weakly open, and for a moment, she struggled to speak.
"Rohan… y-you came…" she whispered, her voice hoarse and cracked.
Tina turned to Rohan, urgency flashing in her eyes. "Please, check on Sura—the Heavenly King. He needs help!"
Without hesitation, Rohan sprinted toward the fallen rubble. His heart pounded as he threw aside slabs of debris, dust rising with each frantic movement. Beneath the wreckage, he found Sura, battered and unconscious, his regal armor cracked and dulled.
Rohan dropped to his knees and pressed two fingers to the king's neck. A faint pulse—fragile but present—throbbed beneath his touch.
"He's alive," Rohan muttered, relief washing over him. Without wasting another second, he placed his hands over Sura's chest, closed his eyes, and began channeling his energy. A soft glow emanated from Rohan's palms, flowing steadily into the king's body, stabilizing his breath and nudging life back into his fading form.
Sura's breathing had steadied, but he was still unconscious—vulnerable. Rohan glanced up to find Tina watching him, eyes wide with fear and worry.
"We need to move," he said quietly. "There are demons still out there."
Tina nodded, kneeling beside him to help lift the king. Together, they managed to get Sura onto Rohan's back, his weight heavy but manageable. Tina stayed close, her eyes scanning the shadows.
Keeping low, Rohan led them through the wreckage, ducking behind crumbled walls and scorched trees. The air was thick with smoke, and every sound—every crack of stone or shifting wind—made their hearts skip.
At one point, they froze behind a fallen column as a group of demons passed, their grotesque forms moving in erratic patterns, sniffing the air. Rohan held his breath, feeling Sura's limp body sagging against him.
When the coast was clear, he motioned to Tina. "Come on."
They moved silently, their steps careful, until they found the remnants of an old stone chamber partially hidden by vines and rubble. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
Rohan gently laid Sura down against the wall while Tina pulled out a cloth to clean the blood from his forehead.
"We'll be safe here. For now," Rohan whispered, his voice low and steady.
Tina looked at him, her face pale but determined. "Thank you."
Rohan leaned against the wall of the ruined chamber, his breaths shallow from the strain. He let his eyes sweep across the horizon—what was once a radiant celestial realm now lay in ruins. Smoke curled into the air. Fires flickered in the distance. There were no cries for help, no signs of movement—only the low growls and shifting shadows of demons roaming through the wreckage.
No one else was left. Not here. Not now.
He turned back toward Tina, who was tending to Sura with trembling hands, wiping away grime and blood. Her face was tight with worry, her lips pressed into a hard line.
Rohan crouched beside her, keeping his voice low. "Is this how bad it's gotten?" he asked, his tone quiet but heavy. "How did things become this dire?"
Tina's voice grew heavy as she recounted the events that had led to the realm's fall. It began with a sudden and brutal ambush by Demon Lord Asura, who descended upon the celestial realm with terrifying force. His attack wasn't just a military assault—it was calculated destruction, powered by forbidden magic that twisted the very fabric of the realm. King Sura, the Heavenly King, had faced Asura head-on in a desperate attempt to defend his people. Their battle was fierce, light clashing with darkness, but Asura had grown too powerful, drawing strength from ancient spells that should have never been awakened. Tina had joined the front lines alongside the heavenly soldiers, fighting with all she had as chaos erupted around her. But Asura was relentless, using dark enchantments and illusions to break the morale of the defenders. Then, just when it seemed hope was lost, Avyaan entered the battlefield. His arrival was like a blaze of light cutting through the gloom, and for a moment, it looked as though balance might be restored.
Avyaan's power was unmatched—strong enough to make even Asura falter. But the demon lord resorted to trickery, casting a powerful black magic spell that didn't bind Avyaan's body, but his mind. He filled Avyaan's thoughts with illusions—familiar faces, painful memories, and emotional torment—until he couldn't tell what was real. Distracted and vulnerable, Avyaan was captured. With Avyaan bound and King Sura gravely wounded, the celestial realm crumbled under the weight of Asura's darkness.
Hearing Avyaan's name, Rohan froze. The air around him seemed to thicken, and his heart pounded in his chest. He turned sharply to Tina, his voice barely steady. "Avyaan? You saw him? He was really there?" The storm in his eyes betrayed the mix of shock, fear, and something deeper—something unspoken.
Tina nodded solemnly, recognizing the sudden shift in him. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her voice soft but grave. "Yes, Rohan. He fought with everything he had... but Asura tricked him. He's being held captive now."
Rohan's breath hitched. "Where?" he asked, eyes locked on hers, desperation rising. Tina hesitated, then spoke carefully. "In the Celestial Hall. Asura has chained him to the central pillar—the one where the realm's light once flowed. Now it's corrupted. They're torturing him, Rohan. Trying to break him from the inside out." She paused, her hand still on his shoulder. "I know what he means to you." Rohan looked away, swallowing hard, his jaw clenched.