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  The wind blew slowly, as if the atmosphere itself was struggling to process what was stood beneath its wake.

  The image of Zayn still - stood where he had been, drenched in gore, arms stretched skyward like a defiant crucifix, began to blur.

  The monster’s form flickered like a dying candle. The edges of his body blurred then became solid, like a mirage disturbed by an unseen gust.

  For a heartbeat, the battlefield was suspended in a paradox.

  He was still there, yet fading, as if reality itself was struggling to keep his structure anchored.

  The outline of his massive body dimmed, then flared again, refusing to settle into a single place.

  Then in a moment too fast for any mortal or immortal to track, a new image of him solidified thousands of miles ahead.

  Feet planted deep into the ruined, mushy earth.

  Chest heaving with a rhythmic, tectonic force with a seismic cadence, each breath a "tur-tur" vibration that hurt everyone's ears.

  Every muscle was carved tight like a drawn bowstring, glowing with a metallic, blood-slicked sheen.

  Behind him, the demon tide had not yet understood what had happened.

  Zayn raised one massive hand toward his face slowly. His five talons flexed, dripping with the hot remnants of a slaughter nowhere to be seen.

  He lifted his palm closer, inhaled deliberately, and savored the sight of crimson.

  The smell of the massacre was his first true meal, a perfume of death that filled his lungs.

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  Behind him, a million-strong vanguard of the Void froze. Their eyes rolled white, bodies stiffening like they were footnotes of liftless monuments that history had already forgotten.

  A lattice of crimson light, finer than spider’s silk yet heavy, manifested across the entire horizon.

  Five perfect, asymmetrical cuts traced through the air, leaping from one demon to the next in a chain of segmented geometry, a synchronized movement that defied the laws of biology, a million bodies underwent unraveling with one clean cut.

  The demon's meat slid apart. A million bodies, divided into five meaty segments, fell apart one after another.

  The sound was a thick, rhythmic slur as they fell one after another like ham being sliced off a breathing pig.

  A million lives were harvested in the space between two heartbeats, like a newborn’s first blink from a monster just born, unaware of its potential.

  Monster Zayn indulged in that silence.

  Small vortices of space opening and closing near his feet where his unnatural speed had vacuumed the air, and the blood he had sprayed still hung suspended in the atmosphere, a misty crimson graveyard.

  He finally turned his head, his eyes, with their twin pupils glinting like cold diamonds, held an imperceptible hint of disdain as he traced the line of destruction behind him.

  It was the look of bored acknowledgement from a god watching dogs bark.

  The "Strongest Man on the Planet" had spent an afternoon achieving this result. The Monster had done it as an afterthought.

  He leaned forward, hunching his spiked back, and brought his face inches from the trembling front lines of the horde.

  His breath washed over them.

  A faint metallic grinding followed, a wet tur-tur vibration that rattled the marrow of every onlooker.

  The tides hadn't just changed - they had evaporated.

  ………………………

  High above, in the celestial silence of the Himalayan peaks.

  Kailash, cold and ancient where time itself holds its breath in the very hands of destruction.

  Nandi, the Pillar of Strength, felt his vision blur.

  "Mahadev… we must move,” he whispered.

  “We must intervene and end this creature.”

  From the frozen shadows of the summit, a Blue hand emerged.

  Skin carved like sapphire, veins pulsing with the light of a dying eon.

  Rudraksha beads rattled against an ash-covered wrist as the hand grasped a golden, burning Trishul.

  As the fingers pressed upon the divine gold, at the mere contact of the hand and weapon, the mountains shivered with loud rumbles and crashing avalanches.

  But before that God could descend, a vast silhouette eclipsed the moonlight behind him.

  A greater gravity manifested behind the Endless Destroyer.

  A shadow of a burning figure manifested with six arms, light cascading from his skin like the birth of a star, ancient and uncompromising, marks on his body moved in shapes resembling galaxies being born beneath his skin.

  A spinning wheel rested effortlessly upon one finger, humming with the frequency of a thousand dying suns and million living worlds, a gold disc that sang the song of universal order.

  The voice was calm, absolute, and ancient like a command written into the fabric of the multiverse, breezed through the Blue God’s soul:

  “It’s time,”

  The Chakra’s hum reached a pitch that shattered the sky like glass.

  "We must kill this mortal.”