Dark clouds had grown heavier across the sky.
Lightning flashed in the distance, its thunder echoing through the heavens as if nature itself had become a witness to the impending Mahayuddh.
Descending from the towering heights of the palace, Nirvaan stepped toward the battlefield.
His pace was calm, yet every step carried an unnatural weight
as though the earth itself could feel his presence.
Below
lay a sight that could shake even the bravest of hearts.
On one side an overwhelming army of 7 crore soldiers,
and on the other 3 crore warriors, standing firm, unwilling to retreat at any cost.
Banners fluttered wildly in the wind,
steel weapons gleamed under the dim light,
and in every soldier's eyes burned only one thing
War.
Yet within this endless sea of men…
there existed a few whose very presence could alter the fate of the battlefield
The Maharathis.
A total of 30 Maharathis,
each one an army in themselves.
Nirvaan's gaze slowly swept across them.
He wasn't merely looking at faces…
he was seeing power, danger, and the threads of the future.
Viraaj
A tall, formidable warrior…
with flames burning within his eyes.
The scars on his body were not signs of weakness,
but marks of the countless battles he had survived.
Rejected by the world…
yet standing today, fighting for the very same world.
"Power… is identity,"
he muttered softly,
"and today… I will forge mine."
Grandfather Amon
White hair, a calm face…
yet his mere presence made the air feel heavy.
He was not just a warrior
he was a living legend.
Respected by both sides,
feared by many, ignored by none.
His eyes carried centuries of experience…
and a quiet peace only those possess
who have seen everything life has to offer.
"This war is not an end…"
his low voice echoed through the wind,
"it is the beginning of a new era."
Guru Panchal
Standing at a distance from the battlefield…
his expression calm, unmoving.
But his eyes
were reading every movement, every formation.
He did not fight with a blade
he fought with intellect.
Every step, every strategy…
was already unfolding within his mind.
"One wrong decision"
he murmured to himself,
"and the entire army will collapse."
Now, Nirvaan had fully stepped onto the battlefield.
His presence alone sent a chill through the surrounding soldiers.
Some stepped back
others could only stare at him in silence.
"That's him"
a soldier whispered, his voice trembling.
Then
The thunder of war drums echoed across the field.
Conches were blown.
The air trembled.
And in that very moment
every warrior understood
The Mahayuddh had begun.
Nirvaan clenched his fists.
His eyes no longer held just coldness…
but a deep, dangerous glow.
"No one… turns back now."
Suddenly
A bolt of lightning tore across the sky…
And in that instant
Viraaj stepped forward.
His blade dragged across the ground,
sparks igniting with every step.
"Who…"
his voice thundered,
"will take the first step in this war?"
Nirvaan slowly turned his gaze toward him.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"The first step…"
he said calmly,
"always leads to death."
In the next moment —
Both armies roared.
Blades clashed.
Cries filled the air.
The earth itself trembled beneath the chaos.
And amidst it all —
Nirvaan stood still
as if he were the very center of this storm.
The Mahayuddh had begun.