The World Kneels
The sun hung low over the battlefield, its golden rays tainted with the scent of blood and ash. The last remnants of the Gautam Kingdom lay in ruin—its once-great walls shattered, its mighty generals reduced to nameless corpses scattered across the broken land.
At the heart of the destruction, a lone figure stood atop the ruins of the palace. His white hair shimmered under the dying light, and his crimson eyes reflected nothing but absolute dominance. Shree Yan, The Immortal King, had conquered everything.
Beneath him, thousands of cultivators, warriors, and rulers from across the world knelt, their heads pressed against the cold earth. None dared to breathe too loudly. None dared to meet his gaze.
"This is not the end," Shree Yan thought. "This is only the beginning."
His voice, smooth yet commanding, carried across the silence like a divine decree.
"From this day forth, the world shall know only one ruler. Me."
A pulse of energy swept across the kneeling masses, forcing even the strongest to shudder.
A general, once a proud warrior of the fallen Gautam Kingdom, dared to raise his trembling voice. "W-We have surrendered… Will you allow us to live?"
Shree Yan's crimson eyes bore into him. The general froze, realizing his mistake too late.
"Live?" Shree Yan whispered. "You already died the moment you defied me."
With a flick of his fingers, the man's soul was ripped from his body, a wretched scream echoing as he crumbled into dust.
The kneeling warriors shivered, lowering their heads further. They had no king. No gods to pray to. No salvation.
They had only him.
Shree Yan turned away from the ruin, his gaze shifting toward the horizon. His true kingdom had yet to be built.
And the heavens themselves would tremble at its rise.