Chaos had swallowed the world whole.
Om looked around, his breath growing heavier with every passing second. The sky above had turned completely black, as if light itself had been erased. Everywhere he looked—there was war.
Not a war between humans.
Something far worse.
His eyes scanned the battlefield, and what he saw made his heart pound with fear. Countless creatures—of all shapes and kinds—were fighting together. Dragons roared through the sky, breathing fire into the darkness. Giant lizard-like beasts charged across the ground with terrifying force. Mermaid-like beings emerged from the waters, attacking with deadly precision. There were short, dwarf-like humans, serpent-like beings resembling Nagas, and many other strange, unimaginable creatures.
All of them…
Fighting side by side.
Against a single enemy.
On the other side stood demons—monstrous, towering figures. Daityas. Danavs. Rakshasas. Creatures of pure destruction, massive in size, radiating a terrifying aura that made the air itself feel heavy.
Om's heart raced.
His mind couldn't process what he was seeing.
"Where… where am I?" he stammered, panic creeping into his voice. "I was at home… how did I end up here? What is this place? What is this war? These creatures… there are humans… but also so many other beings… and those things in front—are those demons? What… what is going on?!"
His voice trembled as he realized something even more terrifying—
He was standing right in the middle of both armies.
On the side of the humans stood two figures leading the forces. One was an old man, standing firm with unshakable determination. Beside him stood a woman—radiant, powerful, almost like a queen. Her presence was calm yet commanding, like a divine force guiding the battlefield.
And in front of the demon army—
A single figure stood.
A man.
Dressed in black.
A glowing blue sword gripped tightly in his hand.
His face was covered, hidden beneath a mask. Yet the way he stood—chest out, fearless, unshaken—it felt as though a lone ant was daring to lead an army of elephants.
Om stared at him, confusion mixing with fear.
And then—
A voice echoed from the human side.
"Today, I give you one final warning," the old man declared, his voice powerful and filled with authority. "You are not permitted to step onto the surface of Mother Earth. Accept your defeat and return peacefully to the underworld. This is your last warning. Until now, we have shown patience… but from this moment onward, there will be no mercy."
That voice…
Om's eyes snapped toward the old man's face.
And in that instant—
His heart stopped.
"Guruji…!"
It was Dhoomketu.
His teacher.
Standing there on the battlefield.
Om's voice broke as he shouted,
"Guruji! It's me—Om! Can you recognize me? What is happening here?!"
He tried again… and again… but no matter how loudly he shouted, his voice didn't reach him. It was as if he didn't exist.
As if he was just… watching.
And then—
A dark, chilling laugh echoed across the battlefield.
"Old man," a voice sneered from the demon side, dripping with arrogance and cruelty. "It is we demons who have shown mercy all this time—to you humans and these half-breeds. But no more. This is the end of your injustice. From now on, the Earth will belong entirely to the demon race. Surrender… and I promise you, I will let you live. But you will serve me… for the rest of your lives."
Om's fists clenched.
His eyes burned with anger as he looked toward the man leading the demon army.
The masked figure slowly raised his hand… and pulled the cloth away from his face.
A smile spread across his lips.
Cold.
Cruel.
Terrifying.
"And as for mercy…" he continued, his voice now darker, sharper, "give it everything you've got—from your heels to your head. I swear… I'll kill each and every one of you. One by one… slowly."
Om's breath caught in his throat.
His vision blurred.
Because the face he was looking at…
Was his own.
"No… no…" he whispered, his entire body trembling. "That's impossible… that's not me… that can't be me…"
But it was.
Every detail—identical.
And yet… completely different.
This version of him was darker. Twisted. His eyes glowed red like burning embers. His hair was wild, untamed. Strange markings covered his body, and scars ran across his face. The sword in his hand pulsed with an eerie blue energy, and that smile—
That horrifying, merciless smile—
It wasn't human.
Om stumbled back, shaking his head desperately.
"This isn't real… this can't be real… that's not me… that's someone else!"
But before he could make sense of it—
Two voices rang out at the same time.
Commands.
One from Dhoomketu.
One from… the other Om.
"Attack!"
And in the very next moment—
Hell broke loose.
Cannons roared. Explosions ripped through the ground. Weapons of every kind were unleashed. The battlefield turned into chaos.
The evil Om didn't wait.
With blood-red eyes blazing, he charged forward alone—like a beast unleashed—crashing into the opposing army. And what followed… was pure destruction.
He slaughtered them.
Humans… creatures… anyone in his path.
One by one… mercilessly.
On the other side, Dhoomketu fought fiercely, trying to protect his people, his allies… his world.
But Om—
The real Om—
He could only watch.
Tears streamed down his face as he screamed,
"How did you become this?!"
But no answer came.
Instead—
A voice.
Soft… yet powerful.
"Because your birth… was meant to be a symbol of hope."
Om turned sharply.
Behind him stood the same queen-like woman he had seen earlier—the one leading the human forces.
Her presence was calm… yet overwhelming.
"Who are you?" Om asked quickly, his voice filled with urgency. "Where am I? What is this war? Why can't anyone hear me—but you can? What is happening? Please… tell me!"
The woman stepped closer, her expression serious.
"Have patience, Om," she said. "In time, all your questions will be answered. For now… you don't need to know who I am."
Her gaze shifted toward the battlefield.
"This… is that battlefield. The one whose history will be changed by the hands of a few human children. This is the war that holds the lifeline of the world itself."
She looked back at him.
"And the fate of everything… rests in the hands of one fragile soul."
A pause.
"In your hands."
Om frowned, frustration rising.
"What are you even talking about? I don't know anyone here. I don't even understand what's happening! Just answer me one thing—"
His eyes burned as he pointed toward the battlefield.
"That man… the one leading those demons… who is he?"
The woman looked straight into his eyes.
And then she said—
"He is you, Om."