The camera pans to the surroundings—a desolate, destroyed mountain range. Jagged peaks rise into the gray sky, but many of them are sliced cleanly. Snow covers the ground, but it's mixed with patches of blackened earth and ash. The wind howls, carrying a bone-chilling cold.
Harshit (shivering):
This isn't natural. Look at the way the mountains are... cut. It's too perfect.
The group huddles together, their breath visible in the frigid air. Ajay, scans the horizon and points to a distant peak.
Ajay:
That looks like part of the Himalayan range. See that peak over there? It matches one of the ones near Kanchenjunga. But... it's not right. This place looks... wrong.
The group begins to move, their steps slow and cautious as they navigate the treacherous terrain. Steve takes the lead, shielding the smaller members of the group from the biting wind.
Steve:
We need to find shelter. This cold will kill us if we stay out here too long.
Rashi (hugging herself):
And fast. My hands are already numb.
The camera pans out, showing the destroyed landscape in stark detail: cliffs carved as though by a cosmic force, patches of scorched ground, and strange, faintly glowing cracks in the rock. The scene is eerie, a haunting reminder of a cataclysm that left its mark on the land.
Aditya (determined):
Let's keep moving. If this is where the gate brought us, there has to be a reason.
The group presses on, their figures small against the vast, desolate backdrop. The camera fades out, leaving a sense of foreboding and mystery as they continue their search for answers.
The camera pans to Steve,hugging a rock face with one ear pressed against the icy surface. The cold wind blows fiercely, but Steve's expression is calm, his trained eyes scanning the terrain for any signs of shelter. He lightly taps the mountain wall with his knuckles, the sound faintly echoing back.
Steve (murmuring to himself):
Come on... give me something.
He moves a few steps along the ridge, then stops abruptly, a faint smile creeping onto his face. Steve plants his feet firmly and, using his massive frame, delivers a powerful punch to the wall. The mountain trembles slightly, a thin fissure splitting open before him. With a few more punches, the fissure widens, revealing a small, hollow cave inside.
Steve steps back, flexing his hand and expecting the icy surface to have left bruises or burns. But instead, his hand feels perfectly fine—stronger, even. He looks at it curiously, clenching and unclenching his fist.
Steve (thinking):
It doesn't hurt. Not even cold.
The biting cold that had been unbearable to the others feels like a refreshing breeze to him. For a moment, Steve furrows his brow in confusion but quickly shakes it off.
Steve (calling out):
Guys! Found shelter!
He hurries back to the group, scooping up Harshit, who is shivering uncontrollably, and then carrying Rashi on his back while dragging Shivam and Ashvin along. They stumble into the hollow, grateful for the sudden relief from the relentless wind.
As the group huddles inside the cave, Steve looks back to see Aditya standing outside, staring off into the distance. The cold wind whips at Aditya's hair and clothes, but he doesn't seem to notice. Steve, concerned, calls out to him.
Steve:
Aditya! Come inside! It's too dangerous out there!
Aditya:
I can't. There's... something. I feel it. I'll find something to burn for warmth. Stay with the others. If things get worse, you'll need to protect them.
Steve (hesitating):
I'll come with you—
Aditya (interrupting):
Stay here. They need you more right now.
Steve clenches his jaw but nods. He watches Aditya disappear into the swirling snow, his figure growing smaller against the vast expanse.
Aditya makes his way around the ridge. The wind howls, but faintly, through the noise, he begins to hear something—a strange hum, almost like a voice calling out to him. The words are faint, disjointed, but unmistakable.
Voice (whispering):
Ilder... W...er... M...y... H...ier...
He stops in his tracks, his heart pounding as the voice seems to grow louder. He follows the sound, rounding the corner of a jagged peak, and freezes. The camera pans to reveal a weird-looking hilt sticking out of the ground. The snow and ice around it have melted away, as if scorched by unseen flames.
Aditya approaches cautiously, his breath visible in the frigid air. He kneels beside the hilt, reaching out hesitantly. The moment his fingers brush against it, his hand becomes stuck, as if fused to the metal. He tries to pull away, panic flashing across his face.
Aditya (struggling):
What the—?!
The hilt begins to vibrate violently, sending tremors through the ground. The air grows thick with energy, and the snow around him begins to swirl in a chaotic vortex. Back at the cave, the group feels the tremors.
Ajay (alarmed):
What the hell is happening?!
As Aditya continues to struggle, the vibrations intensify. The ground begins to crack and crumble, revealing the entire sword, a blade glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. The snow, dirt, and rust covering the blade burn away as if consumed by invisible fire. With a final, violent pull, the sword comes free, and the earth splits apart beneath Aditya's feet.
The sky darkens as a golden lightning bolt descends from the heavens, striking Aditya directly. The impact sends a shockwave through the mountain range, knocking him to the ground. Ajay and Steve shield the group inside the cave as the wind roars and stone start coming loose and fall around them.
The lightning bolt subsides, and glowing golden symbols appear on the sword and Aditya's left wrist. The symbols pulse briefly before vanishing, as if sinking into his skin. The camera zooms in on his face as his eyes widen in shock and pain.
In the Primordial Plane, the camera cuts to Rudra, now more mature and menacing, sitting on his throne. His fiery eyes snap open, and a faint, wicked smile creeps across his face.
Rudra (darkly):
Finally. You are here... the wielder.
Back on the mountain, the camera zooms in on Aditya as his body begins to convulse. The blade in his hand glows brighter, and his mind is flooded with memories from the sword's past.The memories come at him like a torrent, each one vivid and overwhelming. Aditya gasps, his knees buckling under the weight of the knowledge.The camera focuses on Aditya's body, which begins to glow faintly as the sword's power strengthens him, his muscles tightening and his frame growing slightly broader. His skin radiates a faint warmth as if his very essence is being fortified to endure the blade's immense energy. The glow fades, and Aditya collapses onto the snow, unconscious, the sword still clutched in his hand.
Back at the cave, the tremors subside. Steve and Ajay exchange worried glances before rushing out into the snow. They rush over to where Aditya lies unconscious, the Sword of Creation still clutched in his hand. The ground around him is scorched, steam rising faintly from the ground.
Steve (kneeling):
Aditya! Wake up!
Ajay (kneeling):
Aditya! Wake up! Come on, kid, don't do this to me.
Ajay feels for a pulse and exhales in relief as he hoists Aditya onto his back. Meanwhile, Steve crouches down, his eyes narrowing at the glowing sword gripped tightly in Aditya's hand.
Steve:
I'll take that. He doesn't need to carry it in this condition.
Steve grips the sword's hilt with both hands, his muscles straining as he tries to pry it free. Despite his immense strength—enough to punch through a mountain just moments ago—the sword remains locked in Aditya's iron grip. Steve grits his teeth, pouring all his effort into the task, but his fingertips begin to bleed as if the sword itself resists him.
Steve (gritting his teeth):
What the hell? It's like it's fused to him.
Ajay (adjusting Aditya on his back):
Leave it, Steve. If it's not budging, it's not meant to.
The storm begins to dissipate, and the group looks around as the bright sunlight dawns on the snow-covered peaks. As Steve scans the horizon, his sharp eyes catch sight of a structure in the distance—a small monastery nestled at the base of the mountain.
Steve (pointing):
Look! Down there, at the foot of the mountain. That's a monastery.
Rashi (groaning faintly):
A monastery? Please tell me they have warm blankets.
Steve:
We need to get there. Staying up here isn't an option—we'll freeze to death.
The group begins their trek down the mountain, moving as carefully as their injuries and exhaustion allow. Steve carries the unconscious Rashi and Harshit, one in each arm, while Shivam and Ashvin support each other, limping slightly. Ajay, carrying Aditya on his back, leads the way.
Shivam (grumbling):
I'm officially retiring from trekking. Next time someone suggests hiking, I'm staying home.
Ashvin (laughing weakly):
You're just mad, you will have to be carried half the way down.
Shivam:
Hey, I don't see you doing much better.
Rashi (groaning, barely awake):
Steve... I feel like I'm floating. Am I floating?
Steve (calmly):
No, Rashi. I'm carrying you. Try not to pass out again.
Ajay (to Aditya, under his breath):
You'd better wake up soon, kid. You're heavier than you look.
Steve (teasing):
Maybe you're just out of shape, Ajay.
Ajay (snorting):
Says the guy casually carrying two people like they're gym bags.
The trail narrows at points, forcing the group to cling to the mountainside. The group descends further from the freezing peaks, the temperature gradually warming as they reach the foothills. The sun's golden rays illuminate the snow-dusted trees and rocky terrain, and the group sighs in relief, their breath no longer visible in the air. As the group finally reaches the base of the mountain, they stand before the monastery, a massive red door stands at its entrance, and two monks stand guard at its sides.
Steve:
Finally. Let's get inside before we all collapse.
Ajay (panting):
Too late. I think I'm already half-dead.
First Monk (sternly):
Halt, strangers! The Yin Shang Monastery is off-limits to foreigners.
The second monk glares at the group, his grip on the staff tightening as he takes a defensive stance. The threat in their posture is clear. Ajay steps forward, adjusting Aditya on his back and raising his free hand in a placating gesture.
Ajay (calmly):
Look, we're not here to cause trouble. My friend here— he gestures to Aditya- is injured, as are the rest of us. We just need warmth and food. Let us in, and we'll be out of your way soon enough.
The monks remain unmoved, their staffs defensive,
Second Monk:
Our gates are not for outsiders. Leave now, or we will be forced to make you.
As Ajay prepares to negotiate further, Steve, who has been observing silently, notices that Aditya is beginning to slump even more on Ajay's back. The rest of the group—Rashi, Harshit, Shivam, and Ashvin—also look worse for wear, their faces pale and their steps unsteady. Steve's normally calm demeanor hardens, and his voice cuts through the tension.
Steve (firmly):
We don't have time for this. We're in desperate need of warmth and food, and we're going in. By hook or crook.
Steve gently places Rashi and Harshit down on the ground before standing to his full, imposing height. He cracks his knuckles, the sound echoing ominously, and rolls his shoulders.
Steve (quietly to himself):
Let's see what you've got.
One of the monks lunges forward, swinging his staff at Steve with surprising speed. Steve reacts instantly, catching the staff mid-swing with one hand. His grip tightens, and the monk's eyes widen in shock as Steve effortlessly lifts him off the ground by the staff. With a quick motion, Steve tosses the monk high into the air.
The monk lands with a thud several feet away, unconscious.
The second monk hesitates, his staff trembling in his hands. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, fear seeps into his voice.
Second Monk (stammering):
Y-you dare defile the sanctity of the Yin Shang Monastery?!
Steve takes a step forward, his usually calm eyes now burning with an eerie white glow. His jaw tightens as he raises a hand toward the remaining monk. The air around him seems to vibrate with raw power, the ground beneath his feet cracking slightly.
Steve (coldly):
I'll defile whatever it takes to keep my friends alive.
Just as Steve prepares to act, a commanding voice echoes from behind the gates.
Unknown Voice (firmly):
That's enough!
The massive red gates of the monastery creak open, revealing a blinding white light that gradually fades to reveal an elderly monk in humble but ornate robes. His bald head gleams in the sunlight, and he holds a string of prayer beads in his hands. Behind him stand five younger monks, their heads bowed in deference.