I have never seen Ashni's crimson fury burn above the River of the Weak. Within the tomb, three faces of demonic splendor bury Feitian's silence. When a maliciously playful flame leapt from the nightmare sealed away for a thousand years, I saw the child treading upon a red lotus, clutching the blade forged from the War God's soul. Its edge pointed toward the heart of fate.
In the prosperous age of the void, despairing, frenzied laughter rang out. A fallen angel with black wings descended, soothing the world's petty souls in a mocking tone, while radiant sarcasm jeered at its splendor. Beneath the gaze of the heavenly eye, in the splendid ruins called Sudarshana, a lavish, extravagant reception was laid out. I saw a cold, aloof general; hysterical war drums shrieking; lonely, sorrowful hymns lingering in the air; all waiting for a promise that would never come.
Then the world turned upside down and was torn apart. Those who drank poison to quench their thirst could never turn back.
Ten thousand homes aglow, the long cycle of reunion and separation. A destruction that cannot be resisted, a fate that cannot be changed. One fleeting glance, then we were lost to each other. In an instant, three hundred years passed. A lifetime spent waiting, withered to ash, was still only one page of a story. A thousand tribulations were no more than a moment.
Remember this undying sacred red lotus flame, as the asura who turns in hell breaks through the barrier,
This world will not end, and the karmic flames will burn forever.
Saint Seiya fan fiction, Indra x Asura
One begins and one ends