The night wind carried whispers of thunder, as if the sky itself remembered the vow made hours ago.
On Earth, Yeshwanth sat at the edge of his terrace, the moonlight spilling over his face. His fingers brushed over the faint divine mark on his wrist — glowing softly like a heartbeat from another world.
"One year to become a millionaire…"
He whispered it again and again, as though repeating it would make it real.
Below him, the city flickered — lights of dreams, laughter, struggles. Somewhere in those lights, millions of people fought their own battles every day.
But this was different. His fight wasn't just for himself anymore.
It was for Nila — the girl who defied heaven for him.
Yeshwanth closed his eyes. Every moment replayed in his head — her slap, her tears, her kiss, her father's fury.
He could still feel her trembling hand in his, hear her voice saying "I'll marry him."
"She believed in me… when even I didn't."
He clenched his fist. "If the gods think money defines worth, then I'll master it. If they want me to rise above mortals, then I'll climb higher than their clouds."
He stood, rain-damp hair falling across his face.
Somewhere deep within, something had changed — no longer the boy who cried over heartbreak, but a spark waiting to ignite into fire.
"The countdown starts tonight."
The mark on his wrist pulsed once — faintly — as if the realms themselves had heard his declaration.
Meanwhile, in the Celestial Realm…
The divine sky cracked open like a storm made of gold and violet. Lightning flowed across clouds of starlight.
Inside a colossal palace suspended above eternity, the God of Realms stood in rage. His presence shook the floor, his silver hair burning with divine aura.
Before him, Nila knelt, her head bowed low, chains of light wrapped around her wrists.
"Do you understand what you've done!?" his voice roared. "You, my daughter — born from divine flame — have chosen to defile your soul with a mortal!"
Nila raised her head slowly. Tears shimmered in her violet eyes, but her voice did not waver.
"I didn't defile my soul," she said. "I found it."
The god's aura flared, wind tearing through the hall. "Insolent child! You speak of love when you don't even comprehend eternity!"
Nila's golden dress rippled in the wind of his anger. But she didn't lower her gaze. "I don't need eternity if it means living without him."
"Silence!"
With a motion of his hand, light chains tightened, and Nila gasped as her divine energy flickered.
From the corner of the grand hall, a tall figure stepped forward — calm, composed, but with eyes sharp like steel.
It was Arkan, her elder brother — the Prince of Realms.
Arkan's presence alone commanded silence. His armor shimmered with silver veins of divine power, and his gaze was that of one who had never failed.
"Father," he said coldly. "You've given the mortal a challenge. Let it end there."
The god turned to him. "Do you mock me, Arkan? Do you not see your sister's disgrace?"
Arkan's eyes flickered toward Nila. There was no hatred — only pity. "She's blinded by emotion. It's temporary. The mortal will fail, and she'll return."
Nila glared at him. "You think you know him? You don't even know what it means to fight with nothing but will."
Arkan smirked faintly. "Will doesn't make wealth. Determination doesn't make power. Even the greatest mortals take decades to build what we are born with."
"Then maybe that's why you'll never understand," she shot back. "Because you've never had to earn anything."
The air crackled. The God of Realms slammed his staff, silencing both. "Enough. Arkan — she will remain confined to the Chamber of Serenity until the mortal's fate is sealed."
Arkan nodded. "As you wish, Father."
Nila's chains glowed brighter, and with a flash of light, she was dragged backward — into a room sealed by stars, the doors closing like prison gates of heaven.
The room was breathtaking — a garden of floating crystals, streams of celestial light, and mirrors that reflected distant galaxies.
But to Nila, it was just another cage.
She sat near the crystal pond, staring at her reflection. The moment she closed her eyes, she saw Yeshwanth — standing beneath the mortal sky, wounded but smiling.
"He'll win," she whispered. "He promised."
She pressed her hand against her heart, where the faint warmth of their bond still pulsed. "One year, Yeshwanth. Don't forget me…"
The crystals around her glowed faintly — as if answering her voice.
Unbeknownst to her, outside the sealed chamber, Arkan stood silently — watching through the barrier.
Arkan crossed his arms. His expression remained calm, but something flickered behind his cold eyes.
He spoke quietly to himself.
"A mortal becoming a millionaire in one year… impossible. Even kings and emperors take generations to build empires."
But as he gazed deeper into the mirror showing the mortal world, he saw Yeshwanth standing under the moon, fists clenched, eyes burning with fire.
For a moment — just a moment — Arkan felt something… strange.
A faint echo. Like the feeling of standing before a storm that refused to bow to heaven.
"That look…" he murmured. "I've seen it only in warriors who die smiling."
The chamber lights flickered, and a distant rumble from the mortal realm echoed through the mirror.
Yeshwanth had begun to move.
Morning sunlight spilled over the streets . Birds sang. Life went on.
But for Yeshwanth, everything looked different.
He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his faded shirt, determination glowing in his eyes.
"First, survive. Then, build," he muttered to himself. "A year… 365 days to become someone even gods will recognize."
He opened his laptop — the old one with cracked hinges — and began typing ideas. Business, trading, AI, writing — anything that could turn into money or purpose.
He scrolled through online marketplaces, freelancing platforms, start-up news.
He wasn't rich. He wasn't trained. But he had fire.
"If I can't find a way… I'll create one."
He remembered Nila's words: "I'll wait for you, Yeshwanth."
That memory alone fueled his heart like endless energy.
🌤️ In the Realm of Clouds
Meanwhile, in the divine palace, Arkan entered the grand throne room once more. The God of Realms stood overlooking a pool of stars, watching Yeshwanth's every move through rippling reflections.
"Look at him," the god said, his tone cold. "He believes effort can break destiny."
Arkan hesitated. "Perhaps… belief is stronger than we think."
The god's eyes narrowed. "You sympathize with mortals now?"
Arkan shook his head. "No. I only observe."
"Then keep watching," his father said. "When he fails, you'll learn the weight of divine law."
Arkan bowed slightly, but his mind was no longer calm. The mortal's image — the determination in those eyes — refused to leave him.
Days passed in both worlds. Yeshwanth learned, struggled, worked — sleeping only a few hours, fueled by purpose.
Every setback reminded him of Nila's tears. Every small success felt like a step closer to her.
One night, as he walked through the empty street, moonlight spilling over wet pavement, he looked up.
"I'll build something they can't ignore," he said softly. "Not for revenge. For love."
At that very moment — light rippled faintly across the heavens.
In the Celestial Realm, Nila opened her eyes, feeling that same pulse through the bond that connected their souls.
She smiled faintly. "He's moving forward…"
Arkan, standing by her sealed door, turned his gaze upward — the same pulse brushing against his divine senses. His expression tightened.
"He's… really doing it," he muttered.
He clenched his fist, a strange thrill running through his veins.
And then — he smiled faintly, for the first time in years.
"Father," he said quietly to the empty corridor, "you were wrong."
He turned toward the glowing mirror of fate. "He's not just a mortal. He's the mortal who'll defy heaven."
The stars shifted, aligning like whispers of destiny.
In the Hall of Realms, the divine guards kneeled before the throne as the God of Realms watched the mortal world below.
"What are you watching, Father?" one guard asked.
The god's eyes narrowed. "The fool who thinks he can challenge eternity."
At that exact moment, far below on Earth, Yeshwanth walked through the rain, eyes blazing with unshakable resolve.
The mark on his wrist glowed brighter than ever.
Thunder echoed across both worlds.
In the palace corridor, Arkan appeared beside his father, a quiet smile on his lips.
He looked down toward the mortal world and said softly:
"Here he comes."
The god turned sharply. "Who?"
Arkan's eyes gleamed like stars. "The one who'll shake the heavens."