---
Chirag stood at the mouth of the cave, the sword in his hand glowing softly. It didn't feel like any weapon he had held before—it wasn't heavy, but it carried a deep energy, like it had a soul of its own. When he gripped the hilt, he felt its heartbeat match his own.
Beside him, Siya placed her hand on his arm. Her eyes were filled with concern, but also trust.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Chirag nodded slowly. "It feels… alive. Like it's watching me."
"The sword has ancient power," Siya replied. "It probably is."
The sky outside had turned dark, even though it was still day. Clouds gathered above the mountains, swirling unnaturally, and lightning cracked silently through them. It was a sign.
The gods knew what he had found.
"We need to return to the Demon Realm quickly," Chirag said. "Something is coming."
As they began their journey back, the wind grew stronger. Trees groaned under the pressure, and animals scattered in fear. The world seemed to be holding its breath.
They had barely crossed the mountain pass when they saw it—an army approaching from the horizon. Thousands of golden-clad warriors marched in perfect lines, their weapons shining with divine magic. Above them floated a chariot pulled by light-beasts, and standing within it was a figure dressed in flowing silver robes.
A god.
Siya grabbed Chirag's hand tightly. "They didn't waste time."
Chirag narrowed his eyes. "They've come to stop us before we can use this weapon."
He turned to her. "We can't fight them here. Too many innocent creatures live in these woods."
Siya nodded. "Then we lead them away."
Chirag took a deep breath. "Hold on."
He summoned his fire, and wings of flame erupted from his back. He lifted Siya into his arms and soared into the sky, flying fast and low to draw the god's attention. Below, the golden army shifted course, following him.
"They're coming," Siya said, looking behind them.
"Good," Chirag replied. "Let them come."
---
They led the army into the Blighted Wastes—a dead, cursed land where no life could grow. The ground was blackened, and the air burned with old magic. It was a place even demons avoided.
But Chirag needed space. Space to test the sword's power.
He landed on a cracked plateau, setting Siya down beside him. The sky above was blood-red, and the god's chariot approached slowly, glowing brighter with each second.
The god stepped forward. He had a cold, cruel face, and his voice was like thunder.
"Chirag," the god said, his tone full of judgment. "You were warned. You are a mistake that should never have existed."
"I don't care what you think I am," Chirag replied calmly. "I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."
The god raised a glowing spear. "Then this ends here."
Before Chirag could react, the god hurled the spear. It tore through the air like lightning. Chirag stepped in front of Siya and raised the ancient sword.
There was a blast of light as the spear struck the blade. The power clashed—fire against divine energy—and the shockwave blew across the land, flattening the hills.
When the light faded, Chirag was still standing, the sword glowing brighter than ever.
The god stared in shock. "Impossible…"
Chirag stepped forward, the sword humming in his grip. "This weapon was made to stop you. You fear it, don't you?"
The god scowled. "It changes nothing."
He raised his hand, and from the clouds, ten beams of light fell to the earth—other gods, descending like falling stars. Each one radiated power. Together, they stood in a circle around Chirag and Siya.
"They sent ten?" Siya whispered. "They really are scared."
Chirag didn't blink. "Then let's show them they should be."
He stepped into the circle, his fire blazing brighter, the sword pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. The gods raised their weapons, surrounding him.
And then it happened.
The sword spoke.
Not with words, but with emotion—a wave of energy burst from it, not of rage, but of memory. Chirag saw flashes of the past—of a time before gods ruled, when the world was young and free. He saw love, loss, pain, and courage. He saw the truth.
The sword wasn't just a weapon. It was the last voice of the old world, created not to destroy the gods, but to remind them of who they used to be.
The gods staggered, the images hitting them like thunder. One of them dropped his weapon and fell to his knees.
"What is this…?" he gasped. "These memories… they were buried…"
Chirag stepped forward, his voice strong.
"This sword shows you the truth. You weren't always like this. You chose control over compassion. But it's not too late."
The lead god roared, resisting the sword's message. "Lies! He's trying to weaken us!"
Chirag raised the sword high. "Then try and stop me."
The god charged, and their weapons clashed. Sparks flew, and waves of power tore across the wasteland. Chirag moved with precision, fire swirling around him like armor.
He didn't fight with rage. He fought with purpose.
With each strike, the sword revealed more truth. The gods faltered, their minds torn between what they knew and what they had forgotten.
Siya joined the fight, her magic shielding Chirag when he faltered. Together, they were unstoppable.
One by one, the gods began to retreat—not out of fear of defeat, but fear of memory. Fear of what they had become.
The lead god, wounded and breathless, shouted, "This isn't over!"
Chirag stood tall. "It never is. But we're not afraid of you anymore."
The gods vanished in a beam of light, retreating to their realm.
The battle was over. For now.
---
Chirag dropped to his knees, breathing heavily. Siya ran to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
"You did it," she whispered.
"We did it," he corrected with a tired smile.
The sword in his hand slowly dimmed, its message delivered. But its power remained.
"We may have won this battle," Chirag said, "but the war isn't over."
Siya nodded. "Then we keep fighting. Together."
Chirag looked at the horizon, where light was finally breaking through the clouds.
For the first time in a long while, he felt hope.
---