North – Mountain cliffside
The comms clicked. A blue pulse blinked on the monitor.
Ishaan turned to his squad.
"Generator's down. Light them up. Destroy them!!!"
Back in the ruins, Fireteam Echo retreated—their mission complete.
The few cursed survivors watched helplessly as Iravan, with an invisible sword, glided like a shadow—changing direction mid-air like gravity had let go of him.
"He's not a man," one soldier muttered.
"He's physics made flesh."
Iravan cleared them all.
His whole squad had retreated as planned, but Iravan stayed.
He stood still… and watched the soldiers he had killed.
He was avoiding the fact that guilt was rising within him.
"They were terrorists. They killed many innocents for fun.
Like their lives meant nothing to them.
I did what was needed," Iravan told himself silently.
Then suddenly—he hears a voice.
A calm but heavy voice that cut through the silence:
"What do you think is the cost of the soldiers you killed?"
Iravan whipped around, eyes locking onto a tall, pale figure stepping from the shadows of the burning forest.
He didn't recognize him.
But his soul… felt it.
Asragni.
Iravan (coldly): "Why would a reincarnation of the God of Elements care about that?"
Asragni stepped closer, faint smirk on his lips.
"Because I am… the God."
The ground beneath them trembled faintly.
Heat coiled in the air. But there was no immediate attack.
Asragni looked around—not at Iravan, but at the battlefield.
"You think this was a mission? A victory? This was nothing.
These weren't warriors… they were echoes.
Fools wearing fury like armor."
Iravan raised his guard.
But Asragni didn't flinch. He studied Iravan like a test subject.
Asragni (calmly):
"I didn't come here to save them.
I came here to see what you've become."
Iravan: "What do you mean?"
Asragni looked skyward.
"The cold war is crumbling, Iravan.
This—this was just a crack in the wall.
We needed to see:
Can humans still fight without weapons?
Can they still bleed… without blaming others?"
Meanwhile
Ishaan and his squad had turned the terrorist camp into a battlefield.
Smoke billowed from collapsed structures.
The screams of curses echoed across the shattered earth.
Blazing Swar energy sliced through the haze like divine judgment.
Among the madness, one figure danced through the war like a phantom—Ishaan.
To the curse terrorists, he was a nightmare.
Their attacks dissolved in his presence.
Their strongest soldiers crumbled like dust.
He didn't fight with rage.
He fought like it was a joke. A deadly one.
"He's smiling… while killing us," one curse soldier whispered in horror.
Beside him, his comrade collapsed—skull crushed—before he could scream.
Only two figures held their ground—the infamous Destructive Brothers.
Elite. Feared. Deadly.
But to Ishaan? They were a playdate.
"Come onnn, both of you at once. I'm getting bored."
"Bastard!! We'll kill you!"
"Aww. Sibling bonding? Cute. Die together, then."
Ishaan parried their dual strike with one hand and kicked them back with a flick of his boot.
The ground split. His energy pulsed like a ticking clock.
Suddenly, Ishaan paused.
"…Interesting."
He turned his gaze to the distance.
A sharp pulse of Swar.
Not just power.
Divine pressure.
Asragni.
His smile widened.
"So the god of pale skin finally showed up."
------End of the chapter 8
© 2025 Parth Bhelekar. All rights reserved.
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Kaalvigraha™ — When gods bleed, chaos begins.