The ruins of the Gautam kingdom had become both a tomb and a foundation for something greater, an irony that Shree Yan could not ignore. The blood spilled upon the earth still stained the very ground, and yet, in the distance, there was the sound of rebirth, of life attempting to rise from the ashes. But for Shree Yan, life and death were no longer simple concepts. They were pieces of a puzzle, each interwoven with the fate he sought to escape.
His quest for immortality had begun as an ambition, a desire to transcend the fleeting nature of human existence, to break free from the cycle of suffering that had consumed his life. Yet, with every step he took closer to his goal, he felt the creeping realization that immortality was not the answer he had sought.
He stood atop the remnants of the royal palace, his eyes surveying the horizon. The kingdom was still rebuilding, but its future was uncertain. It was a kingdom of broken promises, torn by the very man who once sought to save it. And yet, they still called him "The Immortal King."
The title was a cruel mockery, for immortality had never been what he truly wanted. Power, revenge, and freedom from pain had been the initial desires. But now, as he stood on the edge of a new world, one he had forged with his own hands, he realized that the price of immortality was far higher than he had ever anticipated.
"Your Highness." The voice of Narayan Thapa, his trusted general, broke through Shree Yan's thoughts. Narayan, though once loyal to the Gautam kingdom, had become one of Shree Yan's most ardent supporters. He had seen the transformation within Shree Yan, the way his ambition had grown into something greater—something that transcended the mere desire for revenge.
Shree Yan turned to face Narayan, his red eyes piercing through the dim light. "What is it, General?"
Narayan bowed slightly, a sign of respect, though his face held a trace of hesitation. "The people, Your Highness—they have begun to whisper. They see you as a king, as a ruler, but they do not know the truth of your power. They are afraid, but they also revere you. They believe you are immortal, that you cannot be stopped."
Shree Yan's lips curled into a faint smile, but it was devoid of warmth. "Let them believe what they will. I have no need for their worship."
"But, Your Highness, they believe in you," Narayan continued, his voice laced with a mix of respect and concern. "They see you as the one who will guide them to a future beyond the darkness. They believe that under your rule, the kingdom will rise again."
Shree Yan's gaze hardened. He had no interest in ruling, no interest in being revered. What he sought was freedom—freedom from the gods, from the endless cycles of life and death, from the very world that had betrayed him. And yet, he could not escape the role that others had imposed upon him. He was the Immortal King, whether he wanted it or not.
"I do not desire their adoration, Narayan," Shree Yan said coldly. "I did not come here to be a king. I came here to find the truth of existence. I came here to escape this illusion."
Narayan bowed his head in understanding, though his concern remained evident. "And yet, they look to you for guidance, Your Highness. You are the only one they believe can lead them. If you abandon them now, they will be lost."
Shree Yan's heart flickered with a brief, unsettling sensation—a feeling that he could not quite name. Was it guilt? Responsibility? Or was it simply a fleeting moment of weakness? The question echoed in his mind, but he pushed it aside. He had no time for such distractions. His path was clear, even if it led to darkness.
"Let them choose their own path," Shree Yan replied, his voice firm. "I will not be their savior. I will not be their king."
As he turned away from Narayan, the general's voice followed him, hesitant yet unwavering. "Then what will you be, Your Highness? If not a king, then what?"
Shree Yan paused for a moment, his gaze falling to the ground below. The shattered remnants of the Gautam kingdom lay beneath him, a reminder of all he had destroyed, and yet, it was also a symbol of what he had created. His eyes hardened.
"I will be the Immortal," he said softly, his words filled with a chilling resolve. "I will be the one who transcends this world. I will be the one who stands above all, unbound by the laws of life and death. I will be eternal."
The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his decision. Narayan, though loyal, could not fully understand the depths of Shree Yan's resolve. He had seen the transformation in his leader, the coldness that had taken root in his heart. But he also saw the flickers of the man Shree Yan once was—the man who had cared, who had believed in something beyond power.
But that man was gone now.
Shree Yan turned his back on Narayan, his red eyes burning with the intensity of his conviction. The title of "Immortal King" no longer held meaning to him. It was not the throne he sought, nor the power of a ruler, but the freedom from the endless cycle of life and death. Immortality was his goal, and nothing would stand in his way.
And so, Shree Yan began to walk the path that would lead him beyond the world of mortals, to a place where neither time nor fate could touch him. The path was dark, and the price was steep, but for Shree Yan, it was the only path worth taking.
As the Immortal King, he would rise above all—above the gods, above the mortals, above everything. And in the end, he would stand alone, unshackled by the illusionary world that had once bound him.