Genesis Maker: The Indian Marvel (Rewrite)

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- Kamar-Taj, Himalayas -

- August 10, 1936 -

The halls of Kamar-Taj were quieter than Aryan had expected. No grand displays of magic, no unnecessary grandeur—just stone corridors, the scent of incense, and the occasional flicker of candlelight. The Sorcerer Supreme walked ahead, her pace steady, her presence unfazed by the weight of what was to come.

Aryan followed in silence, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He could hear the faint murmurs of monks studying, the shifting of robes, the quiet hum of magic woven into the very structure of the place. It wasn't overwhelming, nor was it entirely unfamiliar—he had seen places of discipline and learning before. But there was something different about Kamar-Taj. Something old.

He glanced at the woman leading him. She hadn't spoken much since introducing him to Nalini. Maybe she assumed he understood the gravity of this meeting.

They ascended a spiral staircase, reaching a set of wooden doors. The Sorcerer Supreme didn't knock. She simply raised a hand, tracing a pattern in the air. The doors groaned open, revealing a dimly lit chamber.

Inside, seated cross-legged on a raised platform, was the Ancient One.

He was an old man, from Tibetan heritage with sharp, knowing eyes and robes that seemed to shift in hue depending on how the light struck them. His presence wasn't commanding in the traditional sense—he wasn't imposing, nor did he radiate raw power. And yet, Aryan felt the weight of his existence the moment he stepped inside.

The Sorcerer Supreme stepped aside, giving Aryan space to approach. He met the Ancient One's gaze and held it.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then, the Ancient One exhaled softly, as if amused. "Ah, Aryan Rajvanshi. You are exactly as I expected."

Aryan didn't react. "That makes one of us."

A chuckle. The Ancient One's eyes crinkled with something close to curiosity. "I have seen many come through these halls, seeking knowledge, power, understanding. But you… you are not one of them."

Aryan didn't argue. He wasn't here to seek guidance. He was here because forces beyond his control had nudged the pieces into place.

"You're difficult to perceive," the Ancient One continued. "Not because you are hidden, but because you exist outside the natural flow of things." He gestured loosely. "Even the Eye of Aggomotto struggles to define you. Do you know why?"

Aryan's expression remained neutral. "Because time and fate don't hold sway over me."

The Ancient One nodded approvingly. "A rare condition. And a dangerous one."

The Sorcerer Supreme finally spoke. "Master, Mephisto engaged him in battle before I arrived. He drove the demon away."

A flicker of Interest crossed the old man's face. "Did he now?"

Aryan shrugged. "He seemed to underestimate me severely."

The Ancient One leaned forward slightly. "Many beings will underestimate you, with you being a mortal compared to them. That is your greatest weapon and your greatest risk."

Aryan remained silent. He understood what was being implied. His existence was an anomaly. That made him unpredictable, but it also meant he was walking a path with no precedent.

The Ancient One studied him for a moment longer, then motioned for him to sit. Aryan did, though he didn't bother with the cross-legged formality.

"You are powerful," the old man said. "But power alone does not shape the future. Understanding does."

Aryan tilted his head. "And you believe Kamar-Taj can offer me that?"

The Ancient One smiled faintly. "I believe you already possess knowledge beyond most. But you do not know everything. No one does."

The Sorcerer Supreme took a step forward. "You wield abilities beyond comprehension, but reality is not a simple thing. There are forces that watch, that measure, that act when necessary. Some will ignore you. Others will not."

Aryan met her gaze. "And you think I should learn how to navigate them."

The Ancient One interjected smoothly, "I think you already know you should."

Aryan considered that. They weren't wrong. He had faced cosmic entities before, but he wasn't arrogant enough to think he knew everything about how the multiverse functioned. If nothing else, it was better to have insight than to be blindsided.

Still, he had one question.

"Still, tell me Ancient One. What do you really want from me?"

The Ancient One chuckled again, but there was something in his eyes now—something deeper. "To watch. To learn. To see where your path leads."

The answer was both vague and direct. They didn't want to control him. They wanted to understand him.

He exhaled through his nose. "Fine. I'll stay for a while."

The Sorcerer Supreme nodded as if she had already expected his answer.

The Ancient One leaned back slightly. "Then let us begin."

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Just as Aryan was preparing for whatever "beginning" the Ancient One had in mind, the old master raised a hand, stopping him.

"Before we start," he said, his voice calm but carrying weight, "there is something you must do."

Aryan raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

The Ancient One turned slightly to the Sorcerer Supreme. "Bring the box."

She inclined her head and, without a word, stepped out of the chamber.

Aryan's eyes followed her departure before shifting back to the Ancient One. The atmosphere in the room had changed. It wasn't heavy, but there was an unspoken significance to whatever was about to happen.

"This box. It was one of the reasons you called for a meeting with me, isn't it?," Aryan guessed.

The Ancient One's lips curved faintly. "Yes, that box had been under possession longer than most things in this world."

A few moments later, the Sorcerer Supreme returned, carrying a box wrapped in cloth. She moved carefully, not out of fear but reverence, as if what she held wasn't just an object but something far more significant.

She placed it before the Ancient One and stepped back.

With deliberate movements, the old master pulled away the cloth, revealing a simple wooden box. It wasn't ornate. It had no glowing runes or intricate carvings—just dark, aged wood, smooth from centuries of handling. But the moment Aryan looked at it, he felt something. A pull. A whisper at the edges of his mind.

"This," the Ancient One said, "was given to me by an old friend. He entrusted it to me for safekeeping, saying that one day, someone touched by the void would come to claim it." He met Aryan's gaze. "That it would only open for the right hands."

Aryan studied the box, his fingers itching to reach for it. He wasn't reckless, but he had learned to trust his instincts. And right now, they were telling him that this was important.

"A test, huh," he murmured.

The Ancient One nodded. "A confirmation, yes."

Aryan exhaled slowly. He had knowledge of this universe and its mysteries, of gods, demons, and cosmic beings, but something about this box felt different. Personal. As if it had been waiting for him.

He reached out.

The moment his fingers touched the wood, a deep vibration ran through the chamber. Not sound, not movement—just a shift in the air, like reality itself acknowledging something. The box grew warm beneath his hand, and then, with a quiet click, the lid unlatched.

Silence followed.

Aryan glanced up. The Ancient One and the Sorcerer Supreme were both watching him closely, but neither looked surprised.

"It seems," the Ancient One said, his voice quieter now, "that it belongs to you."

Aryan looked back at the box. It was his now. But what lay inside?

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The box was his now. Whatever lay inside had been waiting for him, and curiosity got the better of Aryan.

Under the watchful eyes of the Ancient One and the Sorcerer Supreme, he lifted the lid fully. A soft, almost imperceptible hum filled the air as the contents were revealed.

Inside, resting on a deep blue silk cloth, were two bracelets. They were unlike anything Aryan had ever seen—crafted with intricate ancient Indian designs, their craftsmanship was flawless, almost divine. Each bracelet had sixteen empty spaces, clearly intended to hold something—gems, most likely—but at the moment, they were bare. However, on the side of the box lay a single large gem, deep blue with shifting light within it, as if a storm was trapped inside.

The Sorcerer Supreme leaned slightly closer, her interest evident. "Fascinating…"

Aryan lifted one of the bracelets, running his fingers over the carvings. It felt old—ancient in a way that few things truly were. The weight of history clung to it. He turned to the Ancient One, who was studying the gem with a knowing look.

"Oh," the old master murmured, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "He left this behind for you."

Aryan frowned, his grip on the bracelet tightening. "Who did?"

The Ancient One's eyes twinkled with something unreadable. "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Aryan's eyes flickered to the gem. The Ancient One wasn't the type to give straightforward answers unless he wanted to. There was something about this that amused him.

With a sigh, Aryan reached out and placed his fingers on the gem, channeling a small amount of his energy into it.

The moment his power connected, the world around him shifted.

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