In the age before time was measured by mortal hands, when the realms of gods and men intertwined, there existed a being of unimaginable power. His name was Ashmukha, and though he was born of the darkest shadows, he possessed a beauty so striking that even the gods themselves were entranced by his presence.
Ashmukha was not just a demon; he was a force of nature. His eyes, as deep as the endless void, reflected the torment of countless souls he had devoured. His skin, a shade of dusk, shimmered with an ethereal glow, as if the night sky itself had been woven into his flesh. His long, flowing hair cascaded down like liquid midnight, and his lips, though often curled into a cruel smile, held a promise of forbidden desires. Yet, beneath this enchanting exterior lay a heart as black as the abyss.
Driven by an insatiable hunger for power, Ashmukha roamed the Earth, leaving behind a trail of destruction wherever he went. He sought out the most ancient and powerful astras, weapons forged in the dawn of creation, capable of bending the very fabric of reality. With each conquest, his power grew, and so did the terror he unleashed upon the world.Villages were reduced to ashes at the mere whisper of his name. Rivers ran red with blood, and the sky darkened with the smoke of burning cities. The earth trembled under his feet, as if nature itself recoiled from his presence. He was a storm incarnate, a harbinger of doom, and none could stand in his way.But it was not just his power that made him feared. It was the sheer pleasure he took in watching the world burn, in hearing the cries of the helpless, in feeling the life drain from those who dared to oppose him. He reveled in the chaos, his laughter echoing through the ruins like a death knell.Yet, despite his cruelty, there was a strange allure to him, a magnetism that drew people to him even as they feared him. His beauty was a weapon, as sharp as any blade, capable of ensnaring the minds and hearts of those foolish enough to look upon him. And many did, only to meet their end in the embrace of his darkness.
Ashmukha's quest for power knew no bounds. He sought to control time itself, to bend the multiverse to his will, and to become the ruler of all realms. But in his relentless pursuit, he failed to see the chains of fate tightening around him, a curse waiting to be fulfilled. For every act of cruelty, every soul he consumed, brought him closer to his downfall—a downfall that would come not from the gods he defied, but from a force he had yet to encounter: love.