"For the first time, the Primordials beheld something beyond their comprehension. A reality they could neither predict nor control. Its past, its present, and its future were mysteries. They had become witnesses to the infinite possibilities of existence."
The camera focuses on their expressions-childlike curiosity lighting their faces. One leans closer, his breath caught in his throat. Another clasps her hands together, her form trembling with excitement. The camera pans across the table, now a living map of the universe, displaying the infinite expanse of stars, planets, and cosmic energies.
"They marvelled, these beings of infinite knowledge, like children given a wondrous new toy. They watched with bated breath as the universe unfolded, its beauty and chaos a symphony they could not help but admire."
"But curiosity, while noble, breeds hunger. And hunger, unchecked, gives rise to envy. Among the Primordials, the seeds of jealousy began to sprout."
The camera shows the gods leaning closer to the table, their expressions shifting. Some smile with delight, but others furrow their brows, their gazes narrowing. One Primordial extends a hand, reaching toward a glowing star on the table. With a flick of his power, he shapes it into a planet of his design, basking in the satisfaction of creation.
Another Primordial follows suit, crafting entire solar systems, and weaving them with her element of water. Yet another shapes a storm of cosmic fire, scattering it across the stars.
"They began to stake their claims upon the universe, each bending its elements to their will. What had begun as a shared creation became a contest of dominance."
Examples unfold across the screen: a fiery god forging volcanic worlds, his flames carving jagged mountains. A god of wind swirls gases into colossal storms that consume entire planets. A goddess of life breathes energy into barren worlds, birthing vibrant ecosystems teeming with strange creatures.
"But creation is a delicate thing, and it is not meant to be controlled by too many hands. Inevitably, their designs clashed."
The screen shows a world shaped by one god's fire colliding with another's oceans, the molten rock and water exploding into steam and chaos. The creators glare at each other from across the table, their forms flaring with raw power.
"You dare undo my work?" snarls the god of fire.
"It was a mistake to let you create anything," retorts the goddess of water, her tone sharp and cold.
Their voices rise, and a heated argument ensues. The argument escalates into a physical confrontation, and the first blow is a searing beam of fire that meets a tidal wave of water, tearing apart the table's projection. The conflict spreads like wildfire, drawing in other Primordials. Power erupts from all sides as creation turns to destruction.
"What began as a moment of creation became an era of annihilation. The Primordials, once agents of peace, turned on one another, their hunger for control consuming them."
The camera shows the Primordial Plane in chaos, the once-pristine council chamber now a battlefield. Gods clash, their powers shaking the foundations of existence. Worlds crumble under their fury, stars are extinguished, and galaxies shatter.
Blood, glowing and divine, spills across the floor. Some gods fall, their forms fading into the ether. Others rise stronger, feeding off the death of their kin.
"But amidst this chaos, there was one who watched. One who orchestrated. One who gained everything while losing nothing."
The camera pans to Rudra, standing at the edge of the chamber. His red eyes blaze with a predatory glow, his calm smile contrasting the devastation around him. As the gods tear each other apart, he strides through the carnage, his hands trailing over their broken forms. With each fallen god, his power grows, and his presence becomes more imposing.
"He harvested their knowledge. Their powers. Their essence. And when the time was right, he made his move."
Rudra climbs a tower made of corpses, their broken weapons and armour forming the steps beneath his feet. He reaches the peak, where a swirling sphere of existence is flowing with every colour imaginable-hovers. With a feral grin, he thrusts his hand into the sphere, shattering a piece of it and pulling it free. The fragment morphs into a blade of pure energy, pulsating with the power of creation itself.
"With a single stroke, he ended the war. The gods, mighty as they were, fell before his newfound omnipotence."
Rudra swings the blade and an unstoppable wave of energy surges across the battlefield. The fighting gods freeze, their forms disintegrating as the wave consumes them. When the dust settles, only Rudra remains, standing triumphant amidst a sea of corpses.
The camera zooms in on a macabre throne towering construct made from the bodies and weapons of the fallen Primordials. Rudra sits upon it, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction. The shattered fragment of existence hovers in his other hand, now shaped into a glowing orb containing the universe itself.
"He, who sowed the seeds of chaos among the wise, had ascended to supremacy. The god among gods. The master of creation. The Supreme Being, in whose hands the universe now rested."
The surviving Primordials, bloodied and broken, crawl toward the throne. One by one, they kneel before Rudra, their heads bowed in submission. He gazes down at them, his smile cold and menacing, his presence casting a shadow across the room.
"And so, the Primordials knelt, their wills broken, their powers diminished. They had created the universe to gain knowledge. But in their folly, they had birthed a ruler. The all-knowing, all-powerful, ever-present Rudra."
The camera focuses on Rudra's face as he tilts his head, his smile widening into a grin that radiates both triumph and malice. The universe in his hand glows brighter, its reflection dancing in his fiery eyes.
The screen fades to black, and the voice whispers one final line:
"In his palms, the new universe rests. And its fate... is his to decide."