Chapter 2, part 3

Scene Shift

The first harsh light of morning seared Ajay's eyes. He jolted upright. White. Everywhere he looked — stark white.

He lay on a bed of unforgiving ice and snow, the air so thin it burned his lungs, and so cold his breath plumed in frosty clouds. "Where am I?!" His raw shout ripped through the silence, instantly swallowed by the vast emptiness around him. 

The scene broadened. Towering, jagged peaks, sharp against a brilliant, brutal blue sky, dominated the horizon. He was in the Himalayas. 

Ajay stared, his mind a blank canvas where answers should be. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. 

A cold, hard knot of fear tightened in his stomach. He pushed himself up, his bare feet sinking into the icy powder.

 A searing pain shot through them, quickly fading into a deep, alarming numbness. 

He stumbled forward, each step a Herculean effort against the biting wind and treacherous ground.

 His legs buckled. He collapsed onto his knees, the snow biting into his bare skin. His feet were beyond numb; he could no longer feel them, only the radiating, bone-deep cold. He was freezing. He was lost. His chest tightened with the certainty of his end. 

His trembling hand went to his neck, finding the cool metal of the Kirtimukha face chain. 

He pulled it out, holding the small, carved face before his blurring vision. "You brought me here, didn’t you?" he whispered, his voice a desperate plea.

 "Why? What do you want from me, Kirtimukha?!" As if in answer, the eyes of the Kirtimukha on the chain flashed with a sudden, intense red light.

 An impossible wave of warmth surged through Ajay’s body, instantly chasing away the crushing cold. The numbness in his feet receded, replaced by feeling, then a jolt of renewed strength.

 He gasped, his body suddenly warm and vital, no longer feeling the bite of the mountain air. 

He stared at the Kirtimukha face, into its intensely shining red eyes. And then, like a jolt of lightning, a vivid memory flashed through his mind — a chaotic, fragmented glimpse of that night of chaos in the city. 

 [Vision of the past] 

The night air was thick with the city’s hum, oblivious to the transformation unfolding. 

Ajay emerged from his apartment building, his figure cloaked in shadows, but his eyes glowed with an unnerving, incandescent red.

 He walked, each step deliberate, until a shimmering white smoke began to emanate from his body, swirling around him, thick and ethereal. Within its rapidly expanding cloud, a fierce red glow pulsed.

 The smoke intensified, then dissipated, revealing a figure that was undeniably Ajay, yet monstrously altered.

 He now wore a suit of deep red and shimmering gold, its form resembling the powerful, muscled contours of the Kirtimukha.

 Gold jewelry adorned his limbs, and from just behind his shoulders, two sharp, long horns curved upwards.

 The very mask from the museum, now vibrant with red and gold, covered his face. The mask molded around the openings for his eyes, which burned with an unearthly red glow.

 As if drawn by an unseen hand, a Tripundra of fine, ash-like dust began to coalesce directly on the mask’s forehead, forming three distinct, horizontal lines.

 He was Kirtimukha incarnate. 

 With a powerful surge, he launched himself skyward, a crimson blur against the urban sprawl.

 He descended instantly, appearing like a phantom before a group of men cornering a terrified woman in a dim alley. 

"Who the hell are you, huh?" one of them sneered, stepping forward. "Don’t get in our way!"

 Kirtimukha offered no reply. He moved with brutal, impossible speed — a whirlwind of red and gold.

 Each kick was a thunderous impact. Each punch, a bone-shattering force. The men crumpled, one by one, into unconscious heaps, their bodies tossed aside like discarded rags. 

 As the last man fell, Kirtimukha’s head snapped up. His glowing eyes widened, sensing something else in the night. He soared into the sky once more, disappearing into the darkness.

 A dark van careened down a city street, headlights cutting through the night.

 Inside, a group of armed robbers cheered, bags of stolen cash piled around them from a recent bank heist. Suddenly, a red and gold blur materialized directly in the van’s path. The vehicle slammed into it with a sickening crunch. 

The van crumpled, then flipped over Kirtimukha’s unmoving form. It sailed through the air before crashing to the street behind him, tires spinning uselessly. 

Kirtimukha stood, utterly unharmed.  The dazed robbers stumbled out, pulling out their guns, faces contorted with rage and fear. Kirtimukha rushed towards them. 

Bullets sparked harmlessly against his hardened form. Within minutes, with brutal punches and crushing kicks, every robber lay unconscious.  Just then, the wail of sirens pierced the air.

 Police cruisers skidded to a halt. Officers leapt out, weapons drawn. 

"Stop! What are you doing?!" one officer yelled, disbelief thick in his voice. "Who the hell are you?!" Kirtimukha turned, his red eyes blazing, and began to advance towards them.

 "Stop right there!" an officer warned, his voice shaking slightly. "Don’t move or we’ll shoot!"

 Kirtimukha paid them no heed. The officers opened fire. The bullets flattened against him, falling harmlessly to the ground. 

A deep, guttural roar erupted from Kirtimukha, laced with raw power. The ground trembled. Police cars flung backward as if by an invisible hand.

 Officers were sent sprawling like leaves in a gale. Kirtimukha launched himself skyward, landing lightly atop a towering skyscraper.  

He gazed out over the city. His vision shifted, encompassing not just buildings and lights, but patterns of light and shadow. Thin glowing threads connected points across the urban landscape, spreading across the world.

 He could see all the crimes and bad karmas of humans, their locations illuminating like a vast, interconnected web.

 "So this is how it is," Kirtimukha’s booming voice resonated, though only he could hear it. "Humans have almost fallen in this age — in this age of Kali Yuga!" 

A helicopter’s rotors thrummed in the distance, growing louder. A powerful spotlight pinned him on the rooftop. With another demonic roar, Kirtimukha shot towards the helicopter. 

 (Back to the present at the Himalayas) 

Ajay gasped, the vivid, horrifying memories flooding his mind. He looked down at the Kirtimukha face chain in his palm, his hand trembling.

 "So that was what happened? I thought it was just a bank robbery... but it was actually you! You did all that — through me!"  

A figure appeared from the swirling snow and rock. An old sage, cloaked in saffron robes, stood before Ajay. 

Without a word, the sage reached out and gently but firmly took Ajay’s wrist. "Come with me," the sage commanded, his voice ancient and resonant. Ajay stumbled back, trying to pull his arm free.

 "What? Who are you? I have to go back home!"

 The sage’s eyes, deep and knowing, held his. "I know you. You are Ajay, right? From Rajamahendravaram, Andhra Pradesh?" 

"Yes... how do you...?" 

"Kirtimukha brought you here. And he brought you to the right place. Come with me, and you will understand everything."

 He began to lead Ajay, who, despite his confusion, found himself compelled to follow. 

The camera pulled back, revealing the vast, majestic expanse of the Himalayas, and in the far distance, Mount Kailash shimmering ethereally.  

Scene Shift 

Meanwhile, in Rajamahendravaram, life had resumed its rhythm. The marketplace buzzed with activity — a vibrant tapestry of voices, bargaining, and the scent of spices. 

Among the throng, Gayatri and her father moved through the stalls, selecting items, their conversation light. Suddenly, the sky above them ripped open.

 A pulsating crimson portal tore through the blue, spewing forth a chilling, unholy light. From its depths emerged Ugrasura, a monstrous figure, leading his army. His vimana, a grotesque flying chariot bristling with dark energy, was followed by countless smaller, equally sinister flying chariots. 

They descended upon the city like a plague. Screams pierced the market’s hum as buildings crumbled and chaos erupted. 

Just minutes into the devastating assault, a blinding light — a fusion of brilliant blue and radiant white — erupted in the sky. It coalesced into a divine figure. The camera zoomed to his back, revealing a sacred Thirunamam symbol etched into his form — the mark of KMK. 

Ugrasura roared. "There he is! The dharmic warrior has finally arrived!"

 Then KMK  floated serenely amidst the destruction. "I am Dhruva. Your death!" The battle of Rajamahendravaram raged.

 KMK moved like a force of nature, saving Gayatri and her father, shielding others, pushing back the demonic onslaught. He was a guardian reborn — a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness.

  Scene Shift

 Later that night, in a deep, hidden location within the Dandakaranya forest... Shadows clung to ancient trees. Within a cavern, a chilling ritual unfolded. 

Several men, cloaked in black robes, knelt before a colossal, menacing idol of Asura Kali Yuga Purusha. Their chants echoed: "All hail Kali Yuga Purusha! All hail Kali Yuga Purusha!"

 A young man stepped forward, his face grim and determined. He knelt, adding his voice to the chorus. Then he rose, taking his place upon a crude, dark throne. "The war has begun. We must begin our plan too." 

     End of chapter 2, part 3

                KIRTIMUKHA 

TO BE CONTINUED...

 IN CHAPTER 3