The Void Realm quaked.
Before Ash and his companions stood the First Old One — a titan of impossible proportions, forged from the corpses of extinct universes. Its body constantly shifted — one moment a celestial beast, the next a humanoid of cracked starskin and flowing nebulae. It spoke in truth, not language, forcing everyone present to understand its intent.
> "Ash, your rebellion was a momentary flicker. A mistake we failed to erase. But now… you return here as if the outcome can change."
Ash's aura exploded into gold and black spirals, spiraling with chaotic divinity and absolute will. "Then let's rewrite the outcome."
The First Old One raised an arm, and with it, time froze.
Sarina's arrows halted mid-air. Shiv and Monish were locked in mid-step. Even Ravanaari and the goddesses who had followed could not move. The entire dimension stood still.
Only Ash moved.
The Old One rumbled. "You stand outside time now, child. You are a threat to all order. End yourself… and let peace return."
Ash walked forward, calmly.
"No."
With that single word, his aura pulsed — and time shattered.
A shockwave burst from his form, breaking the stasis. Sarina's arrow resumed flight — and struck the Old One's chest.
It didn't bleed.
But it winced.
The battle began.
Anuj and Shivam formed barriers using twin sigils of existence, shielding the party from the gravitational collapse caused by the Old One's movement. Akarshan leapt onto a floating shard of memory, hurling his light-forged spear into one of the beast's forming heads.
Sarina's arrows now glowed blue — dipped in Voidbane Essence, a forbidden weapon once created by Ash himself in a forgotten era.
Ash faced the Old One directly.
"You took my brothers. You destroyed the first garden. You erased a billion dreams. And still, you call yourself balance?"
The Old One roared, forming an endless maw of fangs that cut between space and will.
Ash raised a single hand.
A dragon made of pure narrative energy emerged from his palm — the Eternal Serpent Vaakyam, embodiment of stories that refused to end.
The two clashed — titans of opposite philosophy.
Ash struck with ideas. The Old One responded with void. Blades of forgotten truths versus tidal waves of cosmic silence.
Each blow from Ash reshaped the terrain of unreality.
Each defense by the Old One unraveled part of history itself.
But then — a crack.
The Old One stumbled back.
Ash had pierced its chest with a memory — a memory of the first time it feared. The First Rebellion. Ash's birth.
The beast screamed. Not in pain — but in acknowledgment.
> "You are no longer a spark. You are a firestorm. But the others will awaken… and they are far worse than I."
With that, it disintegrated — not dying, but fading into myth.
Ash turned to the others.
"They're coming."
He looked up.
Twelve stars blinked into view — each pulsing with the presence of a forgotten god.
"The other Old Ones… have heard me."
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