The scene begins in the vast expanse of the universe, galaxies swirling in the distance, stars glittering like shards of eternity. Through this cosmic tapestry, a single object streaks across the void—a blade glowing with an ethereal light, its presence warping space and time around it.
The narrator's voice emerges, calm yet resonant,
"The blade, forged by the Supreme God Rudra, was no ordinary weapon. Its edge could sunder galaxies, its essence powerful enough to unmake the reality itself. Yet, it was bound by a command far greater than its destructive might—a command etched into its very existence by its creator."
The camera zooms in on the blade, its hilt wrapped in black and white fabric, glowing faintly with Rudra's power. Inside the blade, a swirl of energy and chaos, barely contained reflects on its surface.
"'Find your wielder', its father had said. And so, the blade obeyed. Across the boundless universe, it coursed, guided not by chance, but by the threads of destiny and fate. For even the most dangerous, most fatal powers could not defy his will."
The blade glides through nebulae and brushes past collapsing stars, its journey endless. Until, at last, it finds its way to a small galaxy at the farthest reaches of the universe, where a fledgling solar system begins to take shape.
"The blade's journey brought it to a planet—a world still in its infancy. A place where volcanoes raged, where acid rained from the heavens, carving oceans into its molten surface. A place where life had yet to take root."
The camera shows the young planet, its surface bubbling with lava, and black clouds of ash swirling above. The blade pierces through the atmosphere like a comet, its descent unstoppable. When it strikes the surface, the impact is cataclysmic.
The ground quakes, molten rock spews into the air, and an entire section of the planet is torn away, forming a smaller celestial body—a glowing moon that begins its orbit around its parent world.
"In its wake, the blade carved a deep gorge, evaporating oceans and reshaping the planet. Yet even as it rested, buried in stone and fire, the essence of creation seeped from it, blending with the environment."
Time accelerates. The camera shows water returning to the planet's surface, filling the gorge. From these waters, the first flickers of life emerge—unicellular organisms multiplying and adapting, evolving into more complex beings.
"From the blade, life itself found its spark. The essence of creation leaked into the waters, seeding them with potential. Over millennia, life began to evolve, shaped by the blade's presence."
Multicellular creatures emerge, followed by primitive fish, then amphibians crawling onto land. The camera shows lush plants growing rapidly, their forms strange and otherworldly, imbued with the blade's energy. Over eons, dinosaurs roam the planet, then mammals, and finally, the first primitive humans.
"Thousands of years passed. The planet grew, flourished, and changed. And the day Rudra awaited with bated breath finally came. The first of the Homo sapiens had arrived."
The camera pans over a group of early humans hunting in a forest. Their crude weapons glint in the sunlight as they track a herd of animals. One man lags, his attention caught by something unusual—a rock, protruding from the ground, its shape almost like that of a stick.
"By chance—or by fate—one among them stumbled upon the blade. Its true form lay hidden beneath layers of stone, its power dormant. Yet something about its shape drew him in, a primal curiosity ignited within him."
The man picks up the blade, feeling its unnatural weight. Back in the cave, he tries to carve it, flatten it, or even sharpen it, but his tools cannot leave a mark on its surface. Frustrated, he sets it aside. Night falls, and the group gathers in the cave.
Suddenly, a pack of wolves descends upon the group, their glowing eyes gleaming in the dark. Panic erupts as the humans try to fend off the attackers with their crude weapons. Many fall, their screams echoing through the cave. The man grabs the stone-covered blade in desperation, holding it up as the wolves close in.
"And then, it happened."
The blade pulses, the stone layer cracking and falling away, revealing its true form—a gleaming, aqua-blue sword with a hilt wrapped in black and white fabric. Flames erupt from its surface, casting an otherworldly glow. The wolves retreat, howling in fear as the man swings the blade instinctively, its fiery edge cutting through the darkness.
"With its first wielder chosen, the blade revealed its power. From it, fire was born—a force that would change the course of humanity forever."
The camera shows dry grass catching fire, the humans gathering around it in awe. They huddle closer, feeling its warmth. One of them picks up a piece of charcoal and begins to draw on the cave wall—a crude painting of a man holding a glowing sword, surrounded by flames.
"The blade's journey had begun. Through the ages, it shaped the destiny of the planet, its power passing from one wielder to the next."
The camera moves forward in time, showing key moments in history. A man on a cross is stabbed with a spear—the blade disguised in a new form. Blood spills, and the scene fades into a battlefield, where two armies clash. The blade, wielded by a warrior, glows as it cuts through soldiers, leaving trails of fire and light. A young man in the forest pulls out the sword stuck in the stone as he draws the sword there is an ethereal blue glow to it. Civilizations rise and fall around it, each wielder leaving their mark on the world.
"Wielders rose and fell. Each shaped the fate of this world in ways unimaginable. Wars were fought, empires built and destroyed, all under the blade's influence."
The camera shifts to the Primordial Plane, where Rudra watches the events unfold through the universe orb. His face is calm, but his fiery eyes burn with intensity. Around him, the other gods whisper in hushed tones, their fear of him evident.
"From his throne, Rudra watched, his creation shaping the destiny of this planet. The blade had become more than a weapon. It was a force of fate, a harbinger of change. And in its journey, Rudra saw the reflection of his own creation—chaotic, beautiful, and infinite."
The camera lingers on Rudra as he leans forward, his hand resting on the orb. His lips curl into a faint smile, both knowing and enigmatic.
"And so, the blade of creation continued its journey, binding itself to the threads of fate and destiny. Its wielders unknown, its purpose unfolding, its story... far from over."
The screen fades to black, the narrator's voice echoing:
"Creation is but the beginning. Destiny is the path that follows."