Morning came late to Bhayashraya.
Even the sun seemed reluctant to touch what remained of the ruined temple. The clouds circled above, dense and unmoving, as if watching.
Astha stood barefoot amid the shattered idols.
He felt it—beneath the rubble, under layers of forgotten chants and fractured stone—a pulse. Not of life, but of divine rejection.
Smritidhaara reacted first, flickering along his arm.
"Something here remembers," it seemed to whisper in flame.
Ashvaanta hovered behind him, humming faintly.
"Luv. Vaidehi. Help me dig."
---
What they uncovered wasn't forged metal.
It was a blade-shaped relic, carved from the condensed ashes of prayer scrolls, fused by celestial fire. Handle wrapped in broken prayer beads. No glow. No aura.
It did not hum with power—it refused it.
Etched along its length in a forgotten dialect were just three words:
"I believe no longer."
Vaidehi recoiled instinctively.
Luv narrowed his eyes.
"This is cursed."
"No," Astha said.
"This is freedom."
He reached out, and the blade let him touch it. No resistance. No pact. No roar of bonding.
But his palm sizzled.
And across his mind flashed visions:
A god begging to be remembered.
A war where belief was bought and sold.
And a voice—calm, cold—saying:
"Worship is the leash. Break it."
---
(The Beliefless Blade)
Type: Summonable
Effect: Cuts off the divine connection of a target temporarily. Even gods lose access to their mantles when struck.
Passive: Cannot be sensed by divine beings unless drawn.
Limitation: Cannot cut mortals—it phases through them unless they're empowered by divine belief.
Astha looked at the sword resting in his hand, now named in instinct:
Viraagnaya.
"We'll need this for what's coming."
---
First Disciple of the Shatter God
The air suddenly shifted.
Vaidehi fell to one knee.
Luv unsheathed his storm-spear.
Astha stood still—eyes sharp.
From the broken staircase descending from the mountain, he appeared.
A man cloaked in storm-colored robes, skin inked with scrolls of erased text. His face was expressionless, yet his presence was a howl of silence.
"Astha," he said flatly. "You took the blade. That makes you a heretic."
"Who are you?" Luv snapped.
"I am Akaalnemi, first disciple of the Shatter God.
And your punishment is non-existence."
He raised a hand, and the sky turned black—not night, but null.
---
The Battle – Memory vs. Erasure
Akaalnemi moved like a thought you forgot the moment you had it. Fast—too fast—but not through speed. Through conceptual fracture.
Astha struck with Ashvaanta, and his blade met resistance from nothing. Akaalnemi didn't block; he undid the concept of the swing mid-arc.
But Smritidhaara glowed wildly—its flame anchoring Astha to what was.
"You erase—I remember!" Astha roared.
He switched to Viraagnaya. The moment it was drawn, the clouds trembled. Akaalnemi faltered.
"That blade—!" he hissed.
"It severs—"
Too late.
Astha slashed.
The blade did not cut flesh.
It severed the blessing on Akaalnemi's skin.
The scroll tattoos burst into flame. His powers destabilized.
---
Luv surged forward—lightning wrapping around his fists like planetary rings. His spear struck Akaalnemi mid-chest.
"He's open—now!"
Astha followed through, slamming Viraagnaya against the disciple's chest again—not cutting, but disconnecting.
Akaalnemi screamed—a sound like a prayer undone mid-word—and exploded into fractal ash.
---
The Message Left Behind
From the ashes, a mantra hovered briefly, stitched in divine code:
"He has awakened.
And every god you know...
will beg to be forgotten."
The words burst.
Only silence remained.