The world trembled with the awakening of an ancient force. In the dead of night, as storm clouds gathered over the crumbling remains of the forgotten temple, Dev emerged, his body still steaming from the fires of his rebirth. His first breath in centuries was laced with an unquenchable hunger—for vengeance, for power, for what was stolen from him.

As he took his first steps, the land beneath him cracked, scorched by the sheer intensity of his presence. Every step forward was a reminder of his exile, of the betrayal that had sealed him away. His mind was aflame with fragmented memories—the whispered conspiracies of the Brahmānsh, the moment his own kind turned against him, and the unbearable silence that had followed in his imprisonment. But now, that silence was broken.

A village lay ahead, its people unaware of the storm that approached. Dev's lips curled into a smirk. He would not destroy them—no, he would let them carry the message. The world would soon know that the lost son had returned.

The villagers felt it before they saw him. A heavy stillness fell upon them, their senses overwhelmed by an unnatural heat. Then, as they turned their heads toward the horizon, a figure emerged—shrouded in an aura of fire, his presence commanding both awe and terror.

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One by one, they fell to their knees, whispering prayers to their gods, unsure whether they were witnessing a deity or a demon. An elder stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Dev’s fiery eyes bore into the man. "I am what was forgotten. I am what was cast away. And I have come to take back what is mine."

Across the land, in the sanctum of the Brahmānsh, the ancient order of sages sat in deep meditation. But suddenly, a violent tremor ripped through the temple grounds. Guruji's eyes flew open, his breath caught in his chest. The visions were clear—the inferno, the chaos, Dev had returned.

His disciples, sensing the shift in the air, turned to him in alarm. "Guruji, what is it?"

The old sage’s voice was grave. "Prepare yourselves. Darkness walks among us once more."

Among the gathered disciples, Shiva felt his heart pound. The warnings in his dreams, the strange energy he had sensed, they had all led to this moment. He clenched his fists. The time for training was over.

Far away, Dev stood at the edge of the village, gazing at the sky that had long forgotten his name. This was just the beginning. Soon, all would kneel before the true master of the Astras.