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The battlefield was scorched.
The Kara General had fallen—utterly crushed beneath Yakshini's unleashed power. She had taken control of Parashu's body, and in that form, became something close to a goddess of destruction. The ground cracked beneath her steps, and the sky dimmed with each blow she struck.
Nothing stood in her way.
Until Vyoma stepped forward.
Her voice was calm. Cold. Dangerous.
> "Do you remember the last village we destroyed?" she said to the fallen general. "One man survived. And he begged to join us."
"Now—he's the only one who can save us from this devil."
A silence swept across the field.
Then a wind unlike any other stirred the ashes.
A presence arrived. It didn't walk. It appeared.
And with him came the taste of old sorrow, of love twisted into ruin.
Kamravinash.
He was once called Anantya—born from the fire of Rati, goddess of passion, and a forgotten storm deity. A celestial warrior, radiant and noble, who guarded the divine gates long before even the Kara Army rose.
But his fate was cursed by love.
Anantya had fallen for Devyaani, the warrior goddess of wisdom and war. She was all light and distance—beautiful, pure, and bound to destiny. Anantya followed her across lifetimes, shielding her from harm, worshipping her from afar, hoping that one day she would see him.
One day, he confessed.
But Devyaani rejected him—not out of cruelty, but because her path was not bound by love… only by duty.
Anantya shattered.
He wept fire.
His wings, once made of light, turned to ash. In his grief, he cursed love itself. He swore he would destroy all who worshipped it. And in that broken moment, he was reborn—
> Kamravinash — the destroyer of desire, the god of broken hearts and vengeance.
He declared war on the gods of love and memory, believing that love is a lie, and any world built on it deserves to burn.
Now, here he stood.
On a battlefield. Called forth by Vyoma.
His power was unlike any other. Anyone he faced began to feel the weight of every heartbreak they had ever buried—every betrayal, every goodbye, every regret.
Yakshini faltered.
She looked at Kamravinash—and suddenly, her vision blurred.
She could no longer control Parashu's body. Her grip on the present began to crack.
And she saw it clearly—the moment her husband, the God of Life, died by her own hands. Her memory had been buried deep. Hidden. Twisted by time and pain.
But now, Kamravinash had brought it back.
Yakshini screamed in silence—and vanished, slipping out of Parashu's body.
Parashu fell to the ground, gasping for air.
Veerath stood beside him and drew his blade.
"Who are you?" he asked the strange, terrifying man.
Vyoma smiled faintly.
> "Name: Kamravinash."
Kamravinash turned his eyes toward them. There was no malice in them—only deep, eternal sadness.
And then he spoke, his voice heavy with centuries of grief:
> "Love is not divine.
It is a wound we choose to keep open."
Veerath clenched his jaw, whispering to Parashu, "We don't stand a chance. Not against him."
Parashu, barely able to move, asked in a broken voice, "Then what do we do now…?"
Veerath gave a bitter smile.
> "There's only one who can face him."
"The one man army.
Jamadigini."
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