Sword Of Vengeance : Eternal Darkness I Story By Parth
Sword Of Vengeance : Eternal Darkness
Act I: The Shattered Pantheon
In the primordial dawn of the dimension, there were one hundred thousand gods. They were not distant masters, but architects of starlight, weavers of gravity, and guardians who walked openly among a peaceful mortal realm. They loved their creations. But their collective divinity meant nothing when the rift tore open.
He did not belong to their reality. He was the High Priest, a mere fragment of an Unnamed God who resided in a dimension so vastly superior that his true, uncontained presence would cause the fabric of this reality to instantly crumble into ash. Even as a microscopic sliver—wielding a mere 0.000001% of his master’s total power—the High Priest was entirely omnipotent, omniscient, and indestructible. He had already slaughtered the cosmic Emperor, thrown him from his obsidian throne, and claimed dominion over the stars.
The one hundred thousand gods fought back to protect the mortals they cherished, but they were as autumn leaves against a cosmic supercluster. Screaming in desperate agony, they chose absolute sacrifice. They offered up their very souls to forge a weapon capable of killing an omnipotent being: the Sword of Vengeance.
Ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred gods vaporized their essences to stoke the cosmic forge. Annihilation was painful, yet they willingly dissolved into the flames for the sake of the universe. Yet, the divine fuel ran out too soon. Only three pieces were completed—the blade, the hilt, and the handle. The final piece, a foundational gemstone meant to sit in the hilt to stabilize the weapon, could not be created. Only one hundred gods remained. If they sacrificed themselves too, the dimension would immediately collapse from a lack of divine anchors, killing the very mortals they were dying to save.
Weeping for their fallen siblings, the final one hundred gods pooled their remaining strength. They could not kill the High Priest. They could only drag him down, sealing him and his stolen cosmic throne away into a localized cosmic rift with the help of the sword, praying that humanity would one day find an answer.
Act II: The Five-Year Countdown
Eons bled into the void. On Earth, humanity grew, built civilizations, loved, laughed, and lived in peaceful ignorance of the cosmic horror slumbering in the dark.
Until the modern era.
A sudden, chilling mandate was delivered to the world by the Holy Order: the ancient seal was fraying. The High Priest would awaken in exactly five years. From among billions of humans, a young man named Ann was chosen by fate and the remaining gods to act as the proxy of humanity. He was just a boy when they handed him the weight of the universe.
Four gruelling years passed. While his friends fell in love, built careers, and lived their lives, Ann trained until his hands bled and his spirit warped under the crushing isolation. To claim the first piece—the ancient blade—he travelled to the realm of the Great Sage. The ancient being forced Ann into a shifting, brutal magic formation, a trial designed to test if a mortal mind could bear the weight of a god-killing weapon. Ann endured the psychological shattering, forced to watch his deepest insecurities tear him apart, and emerged weeping but holding the naked blade.
With one year left on the clock, Ann arrived at the temple of Artica, the strongest of the surviving one hundred gods. The hilt of the sword was embedded directly into Artica’s living heart.
“I’m sorry,” Ann whispered, his voice cracking, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. He looked at the gentle god who had guided him through his darkest training nights. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Artica, looking at the exhausted, trembling human proxy with deep, parental warmth, gently placed a massive hand on his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, son. You are our light. Look at how much you’ve carried alone. I believe in you.”
With a sickening tear of flesh, the piece was extracted. Artica collapsed into a weak, labored slumber. Only one component remained: the handle. And it was trapped inside the fraying seal, directly alongside the monster itself.
Act III: The Slaughterhouse
Using advanced flying magic taught to him by the high priests of the church, Ann soared past the boundaries of the physical world and entered the Slaughterhouse—the horrific, distorted rift where the cosmic throne was chained.
The moment Ann breached the threshold, an indescribable cosmic pressure slammed into his body. It was a suffocating, dense weight that threatened to vaporise his molecules on a cellular level. His lungs screamed for air that didn’t exist. And there, floating in the centre of the dark rift, was the High Priest.
The entity was completely motionless, bound by the fading remnants of the ancient seal, but his face was an abomination of psychological terror. It was a pale, distorted, cartoonish mockery of an angelic visage, staring blankly with massive, empty eyes and a wide, unnatural, static grin that seemed to stretch past his jawline. It felt as if the entity was mocking every sacrifice the gods had ever made.
Any normal human would have collapsed, losing their mind in pure, unadulterated terror. But Ann, carrying the heavy memories of a dying world and the warmth of Artica’s final words, stood his ground. He looked directly into those hollow eyes, his voice a fierce, desperate roar against the void: “I will destroy you.”
The High Priest could not move, but his wrath was instantaneous. The static smile did not change, but the oppressive pressure in the room multiplied by ten millionfold. The air turned to lead. Ann’s bones clicked, cracked, and fractured under the weight. Blood erupted from his nose and ears. Unable to stand, Ann dropped to his knees, vomiting blood, but his resolve did not break. Thinking of his family, his friends, and the peaceful green earth below, Ann crawled through the suffocating gravity, dragging his broken body inch by painful inch across the obsidian floor, until his bleeding fingers wrapped around the handle of the sword.
The moment he snatched it, the rift began to tear itself apart in anger. Barely clinging to life, crying out in agony, Ann used the absolute last of his magical reserves to tear through the exit portal, escaping the Slaughterhouse by a fraction of a second.
Back on Earth, Ann used everything he had learned to forge the blade, hilt, and handle back into a single, unified weapon. But despair quickly set in. He searched every ancient text, every divine ruin, and every corner of reality for a clue regarding the missing gemstone. There was nothing. He had broken his bones and lost his mentors, and the sword remained hollow. He felt like a failure.
Then, the five-year timer hit zero.
Act IV: The Hope and The Seraphim
Reality shifted with a sickening, dimensional crunch. The blue sky of Earth tore completely open, revealing a pitch-black void. Through the clouds, a gargantuan, cosmic nightmare descended. The High Priest had broken the seal. His body was now a colossal, misshapen mountain of flesh, and his giant, creepy, smiling face peered down through the atmosphere. He extended a massive, pale hand down through the clouds, large enough to crush entire continents. Billions of people screamed, clinging to one another in absolute terror.
Looking up at the descending apocalypse, a sudden, blinding realization hit Ann.
*The gemstone never existed.*
The ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred gods could never forge the final piece because they relied on divine arrogance and fear. The gemstone wasn’t a physical object—it was the pure, unyielding mortal hope and belief of humanity fighting against absolute erasure. As the collective will of billions of terrified yet praying humans focused onto Ann, their love, their fears, and their desire to live poured into his soul. A brilliant, blinding light manifested in the hollow of the hilt. The Sword of Vengeance was finally complete, glowing with the warmth of humanity’s heart.
Ann soared into the sky, a streak of divine light against the darkness. The battle was cataclysmic. At first, the omnipotent High Priest easily dominated, batting Ann through mountain ranges and shattering his bones with waves of raw pressure. But fueled by the inextinguishable spark of human hope, Ann kept rising, screaming the names of everyone he loved. With a final, desperate burst of speed, Ann dodged the giant descending hand, ran up the creature’s colossal arm, and drove the fully manifested Sword of Vengeance directly into the High Priest’s heart.
A blinding flash illuminated the cosmos. Ann collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air, weeping with relief. He had done it. He had saved them.
Then, the Sword of Vengeance vanished into thin air.
The cartoonish, smiling face of the High Priest began to crack and peel away like old paint. Shattering his localized shell hadn’t killed him—it had merely unleashed his true form.
The sky went completely dark as a colossal, terrifying Seraphim angelic form materialized, easily dwarfing the planet. It was a multi-winged entity of absolute cosmic horror, its angelic silhouette twisted into a jagged, pitch-black shadow, with rivers of thick, dark blood dripping continuously from its massive wings, staining the atmosphere.
Act V: Eternal Void
The High Priest did not use brute force to finish the war. He chose a far more insidious, psychological cruelty. He wanted to break Ann’s soul.
With a simple flex of his omnipotent mind, the Seraphim took control of the remaining one hundred gods and every single human being on Earth. Ann watched in absolute, paralyzed horror as his parents, his friends, the children in the streets, and the remaining deities suddenly turned to face him. Their eyes were vacant.
In a horrific, perfectly synchronized, silent event, billions of people violently twisted their own necks in a 360-degree snap. The sound of fracturing bone echoed globally in a single, terrifying second. Ann screamed, running toward his loved ones, but he was too late. They dropped like severed puppets. Everyone died. Except Ann.
The High Priest deliberately left Ann completely untouched. With a flick of his massive, blood-dripping wing, the entity stripped Ann of every ounce of his magical power, reducing him to a fragile, ordinary human. Then, because the one hundred surviving gods were dead, the divine anchors holding the universe together snapped.
Before Ann’s eyes, the galaxies, the stars, the planets, and the sun collapsed inward, winking out of existence one by one until they were entirely erased. Only the physical rock of Earth remained, floating aimlessly in a completely empty, pitch-black, infinite void.
To ensure the torture was absolute, the High Priest cast a final cosmic curse: he made the billions of broken-necked bodies on Earth entirely indestructible. They would never decompose, they could never be damaged, and they could never be buried by the powerless proxy. He then granted Ann the curse of absolute immortality.
With his cruel masterpiece complete, the dark Seraphim turned and flew up into a higher dimension, abandoning the ruined reality entirely.
Left behind in the oppressive, freezing dark, Ann completely lost himself. His mind shattered under the weight of the absolute silence. Stranded on a pitch-black planet with no sun, no stars, and no light to ever guide his eyes again, the immortal, powerless man fell to his knees. He couldn’t even see the faces of the people he failed to save.
Tears freezing on his cheeks, the lone survivor of the universe began to crawl blindly across a dark, frozen world of unburied corpses, screaming into a void that would never answer him back, trapped in a silent, eternal graveyard for the rest of infinity.
FAQsSword Of Vengeance : Eternal Darkness I Story By Parth
- Why couldn’t the gods create the final piece of the Sword of Vengeance?
- The gods relied on divine power and fear rather than true hope. The missing gemstone was never a physical object; it was the collective, unyielding hope and belief of humanity that ultimately completed the sword.
- Who was the High Priest, and why was he so powerful?
- The High Priest was a microscopic sliver (0.000001%) of an Unnamed God from a higher dimension. Even in this tiny fragment form, he was omnipotent, omniscient, and indestructible relative to the story’s universe.
- Why did the High Priest leave Ann alive in the end?
- Rather than destroying Ann, the High Priest chose psychological torture. He stripped Ann of his magic, cursed him with immortality, made humanity’s bodies indestructible so they couldn’t be buried, and left him alone in a silent, dark void forever.
This article is published by Bookosmia, India’s #1 publisher for and by young people. Bookosmia publishes stories, books, podcasts, events, TED-Ed talks, workshops, bedtime stories and more related to kids and young adults.
Photo Credit – AI generated images from Chat GPT and Magic Media from Canva .Gemini AI and jetpack Image Editor
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