Shubhu's body lay still, his mind drifting into the depths of sleep. Yet, what awaited him was not rest. It was war.
His dream was vivid, not a figment of imagination but a memory—a memory of a life that seemed far removed from the scientist he was now. In this dream, Shubhu was not the weak man struggling to survive the horrors of the new world. He was a god—a being of immense power, feared by the very gods who now surrounded him.
The battlefield stretched endlessly before him, a land ravaged by divine warfare. Shubhu, or rather the god he had once been, stood at the center of it all, his form glowing with the raw power of time and space. He was no mere spectator in this war—he was the storm. His enemies, countless gods, stood against him, their eyes filled with hatred and fear.
Shubhu's eyes glinted with fury. He wasn't just fighting for survival. He was fighting to destroy. The gods, his former allies, had turned against him, and now they sought to erase him from existence. But he would not fall so easily.
With a single gesture, the air around him twisted, and time itself bent to his will. The battlefield slowed, the sounds of battle muffled as if underwater. The gods' movements became sluggish, their attacks frozen in mid-air. Lightning bolts hung suspended, fireballs froze in the sky, and the war cries of his enemies became whispers lost in the wind.
Shubhu moved through the frozen landscape like a specter, his steps swift and precise. He raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the gods closest to him were torn apart. Their bodies crumbled into dust as the space around them collapsed inward, crushed by the sheer force of his will. In the span of a heartbeat, five gods were dead.
He could feel their divine essence, their lifeforce, evaporating into the ether, absorbed into the very fabric of time that he commanded. Shubhu was relentless, his eyes blazing with the fury of betrayal. He didn't just kill—he obliterated. His powers weren't meant to simply harm; they erased his enemies from existence, leaving no trace behind.
Time resumed for the others, but before they could react, Shubhu had already summoned a vortex of space and time around him, a swirling mass of chaotic energy that tore through the ranks of the gods like a scythe through wheat. Screams filled the air as gods were sucked into the void, their immortal forms disintegrating as they were swallowed by the abyss of time.
"Is this all you have?" Shubhu's voice boomed across the battlefield, cold and merciless. His body glowed with an intense light, the divine power within him surging as he drew upon the full extent of his mastery over time and space. He was no longer holding back. The gods had made their choice. Now they would face his wrath.
A god of thunder charged at him, his massive hammer crackling with electric fury. Shubhu barely moved. With a wave of his hand, the god froze mid-swing, suspended in time. Shubhu approached him calmly, his eyes burning with disdain. "You were always a fool," he said softly, and with a snap of his fingers, the god's body shattered into a thousand pieces, like glass breaking in slow motion.
But there were more. Always more.
The God of War, a towering figure clad in armor, roared in fury, leading a charge of divine warriors. They came at Shubhu from all sides, weapons drawn, their faces twisted with rage. Shubhu smiled grimly. Let them come.
With a thought, he tore open rifts in space, sending the warriors into different dimensions, never to return. Their screams echoed briefly before they vanished into the void. A flick of his wrist sent another wave of divine energy crashing into the ground, splitting the earth and swallowing dozens of gods in a chasm that led to nowhere.
Despite his overwhelming power, Shubhu could feel the strain building within him. He had been fighting for what felt like an eternity, and though he had slain many, the gods were relentless. Their numbers seemed endless, and his energy, though immense, was not infinite. His control over time and space required a tremendous amount of focus, and every attack pushed him closer to the edge.
Suddenly, amidst the chaos, he saw him.
Kraxis.
Shubhu's heart twisted as he locked eyes with his brother. Kraxis stood at the edge of the battlefield, watching. His face was unreadable, but there was no sign of allegiance, no movement to help. Shubhu's breath caught in his throat. Why isn't he fighting with me?
Kraxis had always been by his side in battle, his most trusted companion. But now, in the heat of this divine war, Kraxis stood still, silent, watching as Shubhu fought alone. A flicker of doubt crept into Shubhu's mind. Could it be that his brother, too, had turned against him?
He pushed the thought away, focusing on the battle. There was no time for doubt, no time for hesitation. The gods pressed in from all sides, and Shubhu knew he couldn't afford any distraction. But the betrayal lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
A sharp pain shot through his side as a spear of light pierced his flesh, thrown by one of the gods he hadn't seen. Shubhu stumbled, blood pouring from the wound, but he refused to fall. With a growl of fury, he unleashed a wave of temporal energy, freezing the attacking god in place before disintegrating him with a pulse of raw power.
He was growing weaker. His vision blurred, and his movements became slower, more labored. The gods were wearing him down, and he could feel his divine power draining with each passing moment. His wounds, though minor at first, were beginning to take their toll. Blood dripped from his body, and his breath came in ragged gasps.
Then, it happened.
Kraxis moved.
In the midst of the chaos, Shubhu felt a presence behind him—familiar yet terrifying. Before he could react, a blade of pure darkness pierced through his back, driving deep into his chest. Shubhu gasped in shock, his body convulsing as the darkness spread through him like poison. He stumbled forward, his power faltering, and fell to his knees.
He turned his head slowly, his eyes wide with disbelief. Kraxis stood over him, his face expressionless, the blade still lodged in Shubhu's back. The betrayal hit him like a tidal wave, far more painful than the physical wound. Kraxis… why?
The battlefield fell silent as the gods watched. Shubhu's vision blurred, and the world around him began to fade. His body trembled, the divine light within him flickering like a dying flame. He had killed so many, fought so hard, but in the end, it was his own brother who had delivered the final blow.
As darkness closed in, Shubhu's mind raced. The gods, the betrayal, his powers—they were all fragments of a life he had forgotten. And now, as his divine essence faded, he could feel the weight of that forgotten life pulling him into oblivion.
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Shubhu awoke with a start, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum. The dream—no, the memory—was so vivid, so real. He could still feel the pain in his chest where Kraxis had struck him, the sensation of betrayal burning in his mind.
He sat up, his mind spinning. Who am I? What am I?
His powers weren't normal. He wasn't normal. The way he had bent time and space in the dream—no, in his memory—was beyond anything he could comprehend. This wasn't the power of some lowly survivor blessed by the gods. This was something ancient, something far more dangerous.
Shubhu clenched his fists, his breath ragged as he tried to make sense of it all. Who is Kraxis? Why did he betray me? The questions swirled in his mind, unanswered, gnawing at him with every passing second. These dreams, these visions of his past, were becoming more frequent, more intense. And with each one, he felt the weight of his forgotten identity growing heavier.
He wasn't just another survivor. He was something more. Something far more dangerous than even he had realized.
As dawn broke and the first rays of light crept into the room, Shubhu sat in silence, haunted by the truth of his dream. The question that echoed in his mind would not be silenced: Who am I really, and what will happen when I remember everything?
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