Krrish was grateful—deeply, painfully grateful—that Mahadev had given him another chance.
Another chance to change fate.
Another chance to save his parents.
Another chance to stand against gods and demons who had once treated human lives like pieces on a cosmic board.
But gratitude did not blind him.
He understood the rules of the higher realms.
Gods and demons could not step onto Earth freely. To enter the human world, they had only two paths. The first was through an avatar—an incarnation requiring balance, permission, and immense preparation. The second was far simpler… and far crueler.
Granting fragments of their power to humans.
Turning them into weapons.
If avatars failed… humans would be used.
But Krrish knew something even more dangerous.
If the gods failed repeatedly, if their patience broke under humiliation, they would attempt the impossible. They would try to force their avatars into the human world. And Mahadev—calm, detached, compassionate—could be moved.
Not through lies.
Through hope.
And hope… had always been the most dangerous weapon of all.
Between the divine realms and Earth stood a door.
And every door required a key.
So Krrish destroyed it.
He did not hesitate.
He shattered the key, broke it into fragments, and scattered those pieces beyond reach—crushed, erased, lost to existence itself.
The moment it broke… the heavens reacted.
Gods and demons realized instantly what had happened. The door could no longer open. Avatars could no longer descend.
Rage spread.
But so did fear.
Because what Krrish had done… was supposed to be impossible.
Still, they clung to one hope.
If the fragments were found—
The key could be reforged.
And so, they began searching.
But reforging would take time.
Time… Krrish intended to use.
As he reached for his power once again, he tried to summon his old weapon—the blade that had once answered his rage without hesitation.
But this time…
It refused.
Instead, something else formed in his grasp.
Energy twisted, condensed, and stabilized into a shape that made his breath stop.
It was not a sword.
It was a trident.
A form unmistakably similar to Mahadev's Trishul.
The sight unsettled him.
His old weapon had been born from anger—sharp, violent, uncontrollable.
This one felt different.
Heavier.
Calmer.
And far… more powerful.
That made no sense.
His power was not fully awakened. He could barely access a fraction of it. And yet this new weapon surpassed his previous one effortlessly.
What Krrish did not yet understand…
Was the truth.
The weapon resembled Mahadev's Trishul because he himself was connected to Mahadev on a level deeper than blessing or fate.
And something inside him had changed.
The hatred that once defined his strength… was fading.
Without realizing it—
He was no longer limited to a fraction of his power.
But his body… still paid the price.
He had only begun using his abilities again. His human form could not withstand them. Power surged through him like fire through fragile glass. Every use felt like his body might tear apart from within.
And for the first time—
That frightened him.
Before, power had felt natural.
Now… it felt overwhelming.
He understood why.
The gods and demons were preparing something.
Something vast.
Something final.
And soon… they would begin granting their powers to humans again.
The cycle was restarting.
That night, as his mother's voice called him to sleep—reminding him of school the next morning—memories began to rise.
His friends.
The ones who had stood beside him when the world turned violent.
The ones who laughed in classrooms…
Fought in silence…
Believed in him when belief itself was dangerous.
They had received powers—not from the ruling gods, but from those who defied them. Those who understood a simple truth:
Anything born of Mahadev could be powerful…
But not evil.
They trusted him.
And when the war came…
They did not hesitate.
They fought.
And one by one…
They fell.
Something inside Krrish broke.
Grief turned into rage.
Rage turned into destruction.
He summoned his sword—the one he had hidden even from gods and demons. The weapon he feared the most.
He struck once.
And the universe answered.
Space trembled.
The divine realm shook.
The demon realm reeled.
The human world endured—only because it had grown stronger through the power of awakened warriors.
But everything before him…
Was gone.
Silence followed.
And with it… realization.
He had never wanted to kill.
That moment changed everything.
So he left.
Before his power erased what remained of his humanity.
Still… some names could never be forgotten.
Shadik.
Siddhesh.
Kewat.
Naman.
Devansh Saloria.
Kosal.
Devansh Tiwari.
Parth.
Ashutosh.
Kunal.
Shlok.
Dennis.
Naveen.
Bhavya.
And many others…
Who stood with him when standing meant dying.
They gave their lives for him.
And this time—
He would not allow that.
He would grow stronger.
Strong enough to face gods and demons alike.
Strong enough that no one would ever hunt him again.
He understood their system.
Gods and demons could communicate with a human only once in a lifetime—and only through mystical stones. Without them, connection was impossible.
So Krrish destroyed the stones.
All of them.
With that path gone, the gods adapted.
They began granting power directly.
Each chosen human bore a mark—a symbol of connection, yet a mystery of origin. No one knew which god stood behind which mark.
But power revealed itself through ranks.
And everyone knew one truth.
If even one among the Trimurti chose you…
You could become something beyond human.
But the Trimurti…
Did not choose easily.
To be continued 🔥👿🔥