The battlefield beneath the temple of Satyavan roiled with chaos, the acrid stench of burning earth mingling with the metallic tang of blood in the air. Every step of the demonic horde left smoldering craters, the hiss of scorched soil cutting through the shrieks of shadow-bound creatures. Above it all, the temple’s luminous dome pulsed like a heart, its golden light flickering as shadows clawed at its surface.

  At their head, Darvasura’s massive form loomed like a monument to the darkness. Shadows writhed around him, tendrils of inky blackness slithering and snapping in the air. His bone armor groaned as if alive, jagged and sharp under the corrupted moonlight. His eyes burned with unquenchable ambition as he raised his sword high, a tide of shadow pouring forth to claw at the temple’s luminous barrier.

  Deep beneath the illusion of the temple, in the hidden sanctuary of Ashesha, Vasunaga coiled tightly in the sanctum, his golden eyes reflecting the ethereal glow of the Resonance Chamber. Beside him, the younger naga Takshaka trembled, his unease palpable.

  “My lord,” Takshaka whispered, his voice tight with disbelief. “The Phantom Knights... They awakened. How is this possible?”

  Vasunaga’s gaze didn’t waver from the sacred mural on the wall before them. The painted scene depicted King Nahusha, a figure both revered and feared, standing at the convergence of the celestial and earthly realms.

  “Their power was never lost,” Vasunaga replied, his voice low and measured. “It was merely sealed, waiting for the one worthy to awaken it.”

  Takshaka’s voice wavered, a tremor betraying the disbelief that gripped him. “King Nahusha truly believed... someone would come?” His serpentine tail quivered, his unease spreading like ripples through the sacred chamber. The faint hum of the mural’s energy seemed to echo the question, as if the ancient paintings themselves demanded an answer.

  Vasunaga’s golden eyes remained steady, yet there was a flicker of something deeper—a memory, a doubt—before his voice rose with calm authority. “He did. And he trusted that the cosmos would guide them here, even if we could not.”

  Takshaka’s gaze darted to the faint cracks in the cosmic barrier above, his throat tightening. “But... what if the cosmos is wrong? What if...” His words faltered, caught between fear and reverence, as the distant echoes of the demon general’s roars reached the sanctum. The sound was alien, unfamiliar, and filled with an overwhelming malice that made Takshaka shudder.

  He turned to Vasunaga, his voice trembling. “If they found the temple of Satyavan, my lord... does it mean that all of Bhu-loka is in danger?”

  “The darkness is not merely an absence of light,” Vasunaga said, his jaw tightening. “It is corruption given form, feeding on ambition, despair, and greed. The demon general’s power is unlike anything we have encountered. If such darkness could find the temple of Satyavan, then all of Bhu-loka is at risk.”

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  He paused, his voice growing heavier. “Another Great War may be upon us, Takshaka. And if that is true, we may once again find ourselves as sacrificial pawns in a game far larger than we can see.”

  Outside, Darvasura’s roars echoed across the battlefield as he swung his massive blade, striking the barrier again and again. Each blow sent ripples through the dome of light, the cosmic energy flickering under the relentless assault.

  “I will not be denied!” he bellowed, his voice a mix of fury and desperation. “The Cardinal Relic will be mine,” he hissed, his jagged teeth bared in a feral grin. “With its power, I shall not only surpass Raktabija—I will eclipse the heavens themselves! No god, no naga, no celestial will deny me my throne!”

  The shadows swirling around him grew thicker, denser, lashing out at the temple. They clawed at the cosmic barrier like a beast straining against its cage. The earth beneath his feet blackened and cracked, the corruption spreading outward, a disease infecting everything it touched.

  Above the battlefield, the air shimmered as if torn apart by raw power. A radiant figure descended, her golden armor catching the faintest glimmer of the corrupted moonlight. Cosmic Svetavastra glowed with an unearthly light, her form wreathed in swirling golden cosmic energy. In her hands, a radiant bow gleamed, its string drawn taut with a blazing arrow of pure starlight.

  The air around her cracked with energy as the arrow released, streaking through the battlefield like a comet unleashed. The strike hit the heart of Darvasura’s shadow, forcing it to recoil and sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The acrid smell of burning shadow filled the air, and for a brief moment, the darkness seemed to falter.

  But the victory was short-lived. The shadows surged back, coalescing into a towering wave of malevolence. Darvasura’s laughter echoed, a sound that sent chills even to those within the temple.

  “You dare stand against me, celestial pretender?” he snarled, his voice dripping with malice.

  Cosmic Svetavastra stood unyielding, her gaze fixed on Darvasura.

  High above, the skies roared as Shyena, the divine falcon, sliced through the corrupted air with unparalleled grace. Its feathers shimmered like molten gold, catching the flickering light of the cosmic barrier below. Svetavastra—the real Svetavastra—clung tightly to its reins, the wind whipping through his robes, which glowed faintly from the residual energy of his summoning.

  “Cosmic Svetavastra is holding him back,” Manu said, his voice low but firm, his gaze locked on the chaos below. “But that darkness... it’s alive. It’s feeding on his rage.”

  “Then we strike before it grows stronger.” Svetavastra nodded, his expression grim. With a swift motion, he raised his hand, summoning a lance of spiritual energy that pulsed with violet light, casting an otherworldly glow over the falcon’s wings. As Shyena dived, the wind howled like a war cry, and the battlefield below seemed to pause for the briefest moment, as if bracing for what was to come.

  In the sanctum below, Vasunaga and Takshaka felt the shift in the battle above. The younger naga’s eyes were wide with a mixture of hope and fear.

  “Will it be enough?” Takshaka asked, his voice barely audible.

  Vasunaga’s gaze remained steady. “The Resonance Chamber chose its guardian wisely. If the cosmos wills it, their light will prevail.”

  The battlefield erupted into chaos as Shyena swooped low, Svetavastra’s lance cutting through the darkness like a beacon. Below, Darvasura roared, his shadows surging upward to meet the attack. The collision of light and darkness sent shockwaves through the air, forcing both armies to stagger. And in the midst of it all, the faint pulse of the Resonance Chamber quickened, its rhythm echoing like the heartbeat of a world holding its breath. The fate of the temple—and perhaps much more—hung in the balance.