Agastya sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor of the library, his eyes darting between the two massive tomes Kiara had placed before him. The first had already sent his mind into a spiral—the legend of Sharanga, a divine artifact wielded by gods and fated warriors. The second, however, was even more overwhelming.
Kiara tapped the worn leather cover of the book, her blue eyes gleaming. "This is what you need to understand before anything else."
Agastya hesitated before opening it. As the pages turned, he was greeted by a grand, ancient depiction of the cosmos. Swirling galaxies, celestial bodies, and luminous figures stood at the center of the illustration. At the top of the page, gilded letters in an ancient script read:
"The Fall of the Supreme Deities and the Rise of Darkness."
He swallowed. "This is… our universe's history?"
Kiara nodded, crossing her arms. "The real one. Not the Federation's version."
Agastya scanned the text.
"In the beginning, there are many universes in existence, each governed by its own Pantheon. But something happened, and they all converged into one big universe. The energy release during the fusion was so massive that it threatened to wipe out everything: the material world, heaven, hell, souls, time, everything that there is. In order to maintain the existence itself, the Supreme deities of our Pantheon, Lord Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, followed by the God of the Abrahamic Pantheons, the Cosmic Deities of Shinto, the Supreme Deities of Taoism, and many other Pantheons, sacrificed themselves and finally brought stability, before the remaining gods of each pantheon divided the new universe into many parts to rule them seperately so that there won't be a fight between them.
However, as all solar deities of various pantheons merged to form a single entity, they chose our current solar system as their prime abode. And that gave the problems as life on Earth, the third planet of the solar system, grew exponentially over time.
As a result, the celestials either sent down their messengers and came down to earth to preach to humanity or tried to gain their faith. In this process, the great holy war emerged between all the celestial races, just to gain control over one little planet.
Meanwhile, the demonic races that were forced to stay together also went through a war on their own, but their war ended in a mere 100 years, while the celestial races are still struggling to stay in harmony with one another. The united demons led by the race of Asuras waged a war against the Celestial races."
He flipped the page. The illustration shifted, showing the Devas vanishing into streams of light, their divine forms dispersing like cosmic dust. Below them, monstrous figures rose, their bodies engulfed in shadow.
"They infiltrated the lower realms, spreading their influence, poisoning civilizations, and enslaving weaker species. One by one, the great celestial cities fell. Kingdoms were reduced to ruins, and knowledge of the past was buried under the sands of time. The Galactic Federation emerged in the aftermath, rewriting history in their favor. They claimed the celestial races were evil and the ones who destroyed the cosmic order, terming them as villains, and put the Celestial bloodlines were automatically to death. But the secret societies who remember the truth... fight to restore balance."
He closed the book and met Kiara's gaze. "I get what you are tying to make me do, but honestly, I don't care whether demonic races rule the worlds or not. All I care about is one thing. If I join you—if I prove myself that I'm useful to your cause—will you help me save my brother?"
Kiara studied him for a long moment. Then, she smirked and extended her hand. "Prove your worth, Agastya. Show us that you can fight, that you can stand against Xyrian's forces. Do that… and we will save your brother. I give you my word."
Agastya hesitated only for a second before clasping her hand.
At that moment, he wasn't just agreeing to fight. He was stepping onto a path far greater than himself.
And there was no turning back.
After a while;
Agastya followed Kiara through the dimly lit corridors of the rebel stronghold, his mind still reeling from everything he had learned. The grand history of celestial beings, the fall of the Supreme Deities, and the corruption of the Galactic Federation—it was too much to process in one sitting. But one thing was clear: he had stepped into something much larger than his own revenge, although he didn't care about that larger world. He only wants his family back.
"Come on, you look like your head's about to explode," Kiara said, throwing open the door to what he assumed was her apartment. The place was modest—one main room, a kitchen space, and a single bedroom. Unlike the rest of the base, which had a militaristic, utilitarian feel, her space was... lived-in. A jacket was draped over the back of a chair, weapons leaned against the walls, and old books were stacked haphazardly on the table. It had personality.
She walked to the fridge and grabbed two bottles, tossing one at him. He caught it easily. "Drink."
Agastya raised an eyebrow as he looked at the label. "Is this a test?"
Kiara rolled her eyes, popping the cap off hers. "What, you think I poisoned it? Please. You've already proven you're not a spy, and if I wanted you dead, I wouldn't need alcohol to do it." She took a long swig and sighed. "This is just a way to unwind. The past few weeks have been hell, and I need to get a few things off my chest."
Agastya hesitated. The Astra System had already informed him that his body automatically neutralized toxins, including alcohol. He could drink all night and remain perfectly sober. But Kiara didn't need to know that.
He sat down across from her, pretending to take a sip. The bitter taste barely registered as he watched her carefully. She seemed more relaxed now, her usual guarded demeanor loosening as the alcohol took effect.
"Alright," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Let me tell you about the biggest mistake of my life."
Agastya stayed silent, letting her talk. Sometimes, people just needed to be heard.
Kiara told him about her ex-boyfriend, a fellow rebel who had been her partner in missions, in battle, and—once upon a time—in love. She had trusted him, believed in him. But he had betrayed her in the worst way, selling information about the rebels to a high-ranking noble in exchange for wealth and protection. Dozens of their comrades had died because of him. And the worst part? She had seen it coming and ignored it.
"Love makes you stupid," she muttered, swirling the liquid in her bottle. "I should've known better. Should've seen the signs. But no, I was too caught up in his words, in the way he made me feel like I was something more than just another soldier."
Agastya listened without interrupting. He had no words of comfort to offer—no empty platitudes about how things would get better. Because he knew that kind of pain didn't just fade away. It lingered.
As the night went on, Kiara continued drinking, switching from beer to stronger liquor, dragging Agastya along for the ride. Or at least, that's what she thought.
She leaned across the table, her cheeks flushed, her movements looser than before. "You're... you're different," she murmured, pointing a finger at him. "You actually listen. You don't just pretend."
Agastya smirked. "Maybe because I actually care?"
Kiara snorted, but there was something softer in her expression now. "You know what? Screw it."
And then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him.