The battlefield of the silver road had gone silent, the guardians scattered, the void trembling faintly. Yet within Krish, the true struggle had only begun.
The four elements no longer raged against him. They pulsed in rhythm, each a truth of existence:
🌿 Life — the endless renewal.
☠️ Death — the silence that completes.
✨ Creation — the spark that weaves.
⚡ Destruction — the storm that ends.
For two centuries they had warred inside him, but now they flowed together. Their pulses overlapped, clashing at first, but slowly, under his will, a fragile harmony began to form.
Krish sat cross-legged upon the silver road, wings folding around him like a cocoon. His eyes closed, his breath steady. The elements surged, seeking dominance, but he met them not with resistance—only balance.
Life swelled, trying to overwhelm him with endless beginnings. He answered with Death, letting silence temper growth.
Destruction erupted, eager to erase all. He steadied it with Creation, letting the storm carve space for new beginnings.
Back and forth, they clashed, but each time he aligned them, weaving opposition into unity.
Years slipped away as though they were moments.
The silver road carried no seasons, no rising suns, yet time flowed. Decades passed as Krish remained still, his essence deepening.
Finally, in the stillness of his two-hundred-and-fiftieth year of cultivation, the balance clicked into place.
A vast pulse erupted from his core, not one element, but all four fused. His wings blazed, radiant and terrible, each feather inscribed with shifting patterns of birth, death, weaving, and ruin. His body no longer carried the elements as guests—they were part of his essence, inseparable, eternal.
The silver road trembled beneath him. The Earth-Level Universe quaked, as if acknowledging a force that had never before existed.
Krish opened his eyes. They were calm, yet endless—carrying the warmth of life, the silence of death, the spark of creation, and the storm of destruction.
"I am not Life, nor Death. Not Creation, nor Destruction. I am the balance of all four."
His wings pulsed once, and the silver road stretched further, opening new horizons no traveler had ever reached.
The bearer of Time had now become the Bearer of Balance, a cultivator whose core carried the four elements as one.
And deep within the Earth-Level Universe, forces that had long slumbered stirred restlessly, sensing the rise of something that defied all order.
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