The wave of death energy struck Rohan with devastating force.
The air shattered with a thunderous crack as his body was hurled backward, a golden blur colliding with the marble of the Celestial Hall. He crashed into its great wall with such force that the very pillars trembled, ancient runes flaring dimly before fading into silence.
Dust settled and for a moment, the battlefield stilled.
Rohan's body lay crumpled at the base of the wall, motionless. His armor cracked. His aura dimmed. Blood trickled from his lips. His breath—shallow and weak—was fading. The storm of power around him died into a whisper.
His eyes fluttered half-open, and a strange stillness washed over him.
Not fear.
Not pain.
But peace.
As if the weight he had carried—of love, betrayal, grief—was finally lifting from his shoulders.
His eyes slowly closed… and the world around him faded into light.
Rohan felt himself drifting—weightless, formless—into a place that pulsed not with time, but eternity. No sound, no pain. Just vast, endless calm.
When the light cleared, he found himself standing—not in a battlefield, but in a boundless expanse of stars and shifting galaxies. A place beyond the celestial realm, beyond life and death.
A higher dimension.
And before him stood a radiant figure robed in constellations, eyes deep as the cosmos itself—the Guardian of the Cosmos.
"Welcome back, Rohan," the Guardian said, voice echoing through every fiber of existence, gentle and immense all at once.
Rohan looked around, confused but calm. "Am I… dead?"
The Guardian stepped forward, their gaze full of compassion. "You stand at the edge of death, but your fate is not yet sealed. The choice lies with you… for your heart is still tethered to the mortal and celestial realms."
Rohan's fists trembled. "Why am I here? Why now?"
"Because," the Guardian said, raising a hand, "you are ready to remember everything. Not just your pain… but the truth."
"Truth ? what truth?" questions Rohan.
The stars behind the Guardian shimmered brighter, constellations realigning themselves, as if the very fabric of the cosmos had paused to listen.
Rohan stood silent, eyes locked with the Guardian's, his breath caught in his throat.
"You are not just a human with special power," the Guardian spoke, their voice a harmony of light and time. "You are not just a mortal, not merely a celestial visitor… Rohan, you are born of creation itself."
Rohan's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
The Guardian extended a hand, and in its palm bloomed a sphere of pure memory—an ancient vision of the cosmos being born, stars igniting, galaxies swirling. Within it, two luminous beings stood side by side: one, radiant as dawn itself; the other, cloaked in cosmic night. Their auras intertwined in perfect harmony.
"Your parents," the Guardian said softly. "Primordial beings—guardians of the first light and first shadow. When the realms were young, they were part of the very act of creation. But as creation expanded, it drew the attention of the Daityas - the dark celestials who sought to collapse the universe back into void."
Rohan's heart pounded as the images unfolded.
"The Daityas were powerful beyond comprehension," the Guardian continued. "One of them… Asura's forefather, sought to seize the core of creation itself. To stop them, your parents made the ultimate sacrifice—they forged a barrier to seal the Daityas in the Void Dimension. But the seal required a price."
"Their lives," Rohan whispered, voice cracking.
The Guardian nodded solemnly. "And their son. You."
"To keep you hidden from the surviving Daityas and their bloodline—who would one day rise again—they sent you to the mortal realm, stripping your powers and memories, placing you among humans where no dark force would sense your divinity."
Rohan staggered back, his entire life reeling in reverse. The unexplained strength… the endless pull to the stars… the feeling of never truly belonging—it all made sense now.
"You were meant to awaken when the balance of the realms was again threatened. And now… the time has come."
The Guardian stepped closer, placing a hand over Rohan's heart. A warmth surged through him, vast and ancient.
"Within you lies the last light of your parents. Their essence. Their will. Their love. Awaken it, Rohan. Awaken not to destroy… but to restore. The realms need the god you were born to be."
Rohan's body began to glow faintly, the light growing from within his core, like a sleeping sun stirring for the first time in millennia.
He clenched his fists.
He remembered Avyaan—bleeding, chained, the puppet, the war. His love. His pain. His promise.
The skies above the Celestial Realm had darkened once more. The clash of divine and demonic forces had left destruction in its wake. Amidst the crumbling ruins, Vajrastra—Rohan's mighty weapon, once feared by demons and revered by celestials—lay shattered, broken by the cursed blade Hellfang in a devastating blow.
Asura stood tall, watching Rohan's motionless form, a cruel smirk on his face. "Even the greatest of weapons have limits," he sneered, dragging Hellfang across the ground, its edge humming with unholy power.
But then—
A tremor.
Soft at first.
Barely noticeable.
Then stronger.
A deep, resonant pulse vibrated through the stones of the Celestial Hall. The broken pillars began to hum with a forgotten frequency… until one ancient pillar, older than the hall itself, began to crack and glow.
Asura turned, narrowing his eyes. "What now?"
In the blink of an eye, the pillar erupted with a blinding burst of golden light, shaking the heavens and silencing even the chaos. From its heart, a divine sword tore through the air like a comet—faster than sound, swifter than thought. The light split the darkened sky and flew straight toward Rohan's fallen body.
The moment it reached him, the blade stopped—hovering.
Then it enveloped him in a shield of radiant energy, brighter than a thousand suns. His body, once weak and battered, began to rise, suspended in a cocoon of light.
Asura stumbled back, eyes wide. "Impossible…"
Tina, watching from afar with Sura, gasped. "That sword… it's… it's the Sword of Light!"
The weapon glowed with a purity unlike any seen since the dawn of time. Forged from stardust and the first spark of creation itself.
Rohan's mind, still lingering in the echo of the higher dimension, now remembered.
He saw himself in his previous life—kneeling before the Heavenly Council, accused of stealing the sacred relic. Betrayed. Alone. But in that moment of despair, it had been this sword that had defied the will of the Council, materializing to shield him from strike of thousand lightnings. To prove his innocence.
And now… it had returned.
Not just as a sword.
But as a promise.
A legacy.
The golden cocoon of light around Rohan pulsed once—twice—then exploded in a silent wave of brilliance.
Rohan stood tall, his wounds gone, his armor reformed with celestial flame, and the Sword of Light floating to his side, humming with familiar warmth.
His eyes met Asura's, calm and unyielding.
"I may have been broken," Rohan said, voice echoing with divine clarity, "but light remembers truth. And it never abandons the one who walks with it."
The skies held their breath.
Asura stared in disbelief at the transformed figure before him—Rohan, now glowing like a celestial sun, eyes burning with ancient resolve, the Sword of Light hovering at his side, singing with justice and power.
And then—without a word—Rohan moved.
One blur. One flash.
Faster than thought.
The Sword of Light soared with him, its blade trailing arcs of blinding brilliance as Rohan dashed forward. Asura barely had time to raise Hellfang—but it was too late. Rohan's strike was absolute.
The blade pierced directly through Asura's head—cutting through flesh, bone, and soul alike.
Time itself seemed to shudder.
Asura's body froze, his expression locked in one of pure shock. His dark aura flickered violently, then began to dissolve—shredded by the light. From his wound, the darkness screamed, unraveling in thin, smoky tendrils, as the legacy of evil he carried from the Daityas was erased in a single, final moment.
A flash of light.
And then—silence.
Asura's form crumbled into dust, scattered to the winds, never to return.
The ancient evil… was gone.
Rohan stood still, breathing slowly, his glowing aura dimming just slightly. The Sword of Light floated before him, waiting.
He raised his hand. "No second chances," he said coldly. "Purge the Celestial Realm."
The Sword responded to his command like a divine sentinel. It rose higher into the sky and split into a thousand rays of light, each seeking out a demon that still lingered—lurking in corners, hiding in shadows, or fleeing in desperation.
Each beam struck with surgical precision.
The demons, howling in terror, were torn apart by pure, searing justice. No dark corner could shield them. No power could resist it.
In mere moments, the realm that once echoed with screams and chaos was silent.
The skies cleared.
The stars realigned.
The Celestial Realm… was clean again.
Rohan lowered his hand. The Sword of Light returned to him and gently rested on his back, merging with his aura, now calm.
He turned toward the ruins—toward where Tina and Sura stood. And in the distance… Avyaan, still unconscious, but alive.
With the final light of battle fading into stillness, Rohan descended from the skies—his divine aura now softened, glowing like the warmth of dawn after an endless storm. His footsteps were gentle as he approached the spot where Avyaan lay, still unconscious, body fragile and bloodied, but his breath steady.
Rohan knelt beside him, his expression tender.
No words—only silence, as sacred as a prayer.
Carefully, he lifted Avyaan into his arms, holding him close to his chest. His fingers brushed the blood-matted strands of hair from Avyaan's forehead. For a fleeting moment, time stood still around them—the chaos now behind, and only love ahead.
As Rohan rose to his feet with Avyaan in his embrace, a portal of celestial light spiraled open before him, casting golden reflections across the ruins of the Celestial Hall.
But before he could step through, he turned.
Tina stood nearby, still stunned from the whirlwind of events. Sura, resting and healing beside her, looked up weakly.
Rohan walked toward her.
From his side, a radiant crystal sigil appeared—engraved with the mark of creation itself. He extended it to her with reverence.
"You've stood for truth when others cowered," he said quietly. "You've led when chaos reigned. The Celestial Realm needs a guardian who sees beyond bloodlines and tradition."
Tina's eyes widened. "You… you're giving me the authority?"
"I'm returning it to where it always should have belonged," he said with a faint smile.
Then, with his other hand, he conjured a small, glowing herb encased in light—its leaves shimmering with healing essence drawn from the celestial wells.
"This will restore Sura's golden core," Rohan added. "He fought bravely."
Tina took both, speechless, tears gathering in her eyes. "Rohan… what will you do now?"
He looked down at Avyaan, his voice turning soft.
"I'll take him where he can heal in peace. Away from this realm, away from pain. He's given enough to the world… now it's time I give him the rest he was never allowed."
And with that, Rohan turned back toward the portal.
The light curled gently around him as he stepped through, carrying Avyaan in his arms—two souls bound by destiny, disappearing into the brilliance of the unknown.
The portal closed behind them, leaving only silence… and hope.