In the dazzling Magic-Tech Lab of Elysium, amidst the hum of advanced machinery and Magical Runes, sat the Chaos Rider, a beast of a spaceship forged with time-bending alloys and arcane energy cores. Inside, hunched over a shimmering holographic table, was Rudra D. Raja Wyllt, better known across dimensions as the Chaos King.
His brows furrowed in intense concentration. Lines of glowing text and diagrams swirled midair, composing what he called "The Akhand Bharat Blueprint." Chai brewed with phoenix feather and cinnamon essence steamed beside him, its enchanted aroma fueling his thoughts.
"No more invasions. No more pardoning of demons disguised as humans," he muttered, dragging lines across a glowing map of ancient India. "This time, we play it smart. This time, Bharat will never fall."
He snapped his fingers. "MAYA, save this masterpiece."
A snarky AI voice chirped from his wrist-worn Chaos Watch.
MAYA:"Masterpiece? Looks more like a warlord's power fantasy. You sure about Rule One, Your Majesty?"
Raja smirked and read it aloud, his voice hard and cold:
"Rule One: No Prithviraj Chauhan Syndrome. No mercy for invaders. No noble forgiveness. They are not diplomats—they are plunderers and Rapists. Eliminate them. Magnanimity is a weakness."
He tapped the table, reinforcing the rule with a glowing red stamp.
"Too many times, we forgave. That's over."
MAYA:"Right, so 'Behead First, Ask Questions Never' is the new national policy."
Raja continued, unbothered.
"Rule Two: No 'Atithi Devo Bhava' for foreigners. No peacocking. Traders? Could be spies. Don't show them your gold, don't show them your temples, and definitely don't show them your armies."
He turned and sipped his chai. "We hide strength. Not flaunt it."
"Rule Three: No mercy for enemy kings. Infiltrate their courts, destroy them from within. Make their descendants fear the name 'Bharat' and will give them nightmares."
MAYA:"Wow, psychological warfare meets medieval brutality. You've really been watching too much Game of Thrones."
Raja chuckled.
"Rule Four: Temples are to be repurposed as centers of power—schools, banks, hospitals, command centers. Sanskrit is the official language. Everyone learns it. Even forest tribes."
MAYA:"Bit authoritarian, don't you think?"
"Knowledge is power," Raja said flatly. "And power must be centralized."
"Rule Five: Mandatory military service. Every family contributes one child post-primary school. Non-negotiable."
"Rule Six: Varna system revised. Four categories—intellectuals, defenders, producers, and service providers. All respected. No superiority complex. Anyone starts caste nonsense—family line ends."
With a final wave, he sealed the blueprint.
"There. A sovereign, sustainable, secretive, and strategic Bharat. Unfuckwithable."
He leaned back, allocating resources from Elysium's vault—quantum crystals, demon-forged alloys, and tech salvaged from multiversal battlefields.
MAYA:"You'll be asleep in the main world for a year while your soul anchors in the Marvel dimension, stuck there until World War II ends."
Raja shrugged. "100 thousand years of immortality. What's 2 thousands of years?"
He sent out a multiversal memo to his elite team: Selena, Jessica, Alice, and the Shadow Corp queens.
"I'll be out 'world-traveling' for a while. No calls, no chaos alerts. The King is on mission."
Raja's soul entered the Marvel-twisted history of Earth. His enchanted pod landed unnoticed in a forest near Pataliputra, ancient India's beating political heart. He emerged in local attire—a simple dhoti and kurta, the Chaos Watch disguised as a bronze bangle. Nearby, his dragon Ragnarok—massive, black, and gold-scaled—coiled protectively around the pod.
"Guard it well, big guy," Raja whispered. "No one touches my ride."
Then he disappeared into the villages.
His mission? Find the boy who would become Chandragupta Maurya—and rewrite history.
After a day of using telepathy to dodge nosy aunties and suspicious elders, Raja found what he was looking for: a gang of children playing in a dusty clearing. At the center stood a wiry, sharp-eyed boy barking royal commands.
Chandragupta, age 8.
Raja grinned and shapeshifted into an equally young version of himself. He approached, holding a basket of mangoes.
"Oi, friends! I'm Rudra Raja from the south. Got mangoes. What's this game? Can I play too?"
The kids froze. Then their eyes darted to the fruit.
Chandra stepped forward. "You brought mangoes? You're in. I'm Chandragupta. I'm the king here. These are my subjects. What's your story?"
Raja dove in, spinning a web of intrigue:
"Runaway prince of Andhra. Parents dead, throne stolen. I'm building an army, gonna reclaim my kingdom one day."
The kids were hooked.
"Do your elephants really dance?" one asked.
Raja winked. "Of course. Every festival."
Laughter erupted. They played until the sun dipped. At one point, Chandra "arrested" Raja for "rebellion." Raja dramatically fell to his knees.
"Oh mighty king, spare me! I only rebelled for mangoes!"
Later, Chandra's mother, Mura, arrived. Her eyes softened when she saw Raja. Her instincts flared.
"You're clever for a child. What's your name again?"
"Rudra Raja Kumara,"he said, bowing playfully. "Just a wanderer."
She served dinner. By the end, she made a quiet offer.
"Stay with us. Be Chandra's brother. Just… promise me you'll protect him."
Raja blinked. He didn't expect that. "Uh… sure, Ma. Ram and Laxman vibes. Deal."
Privately, he pinged MAYA.
"Divine interference?"
MAYA:"Nope. Just a mother's intuition."
One lazy afternoon, Raja lay on a tree branch sipping coconut water as the children played below. Chandra, deep in "king mode," pronounced a sentence.
"This thief shall receive five whip strikes... and ten for me."
Raja sat up, nearly dropping his drink.
"Wait, what?"
A man stepped from the shadows. A tall Brahmin with a gaze like lightning and a smile like thunderclouds.
Raja's instincts screamed: dangerous genius.
"I'm just a wandering pandit," the man said. "Why would you punish yourself, young king?"
Chandra stood tall. "If people steal, it means I'm failing them. A good king accepts blame."
The pandit smiled, impressed. Raja, ever cautious, leapt down and stood between them.
"Whoa, easy there, pandit. You got questions, come to our place. Ma makes killer dal."
The man raised his hands, amused. "Very well, young prince. Lead on."
"I'm Rudra Raja. That's my brother Chandragupta. You?"
"Vishnugupta,"the man replied. "But some call me… Kautilya."
Bingo.
Back at the hut, Mura's smile faltered when she heard "Nanda Dynasty."
Raja caught the shift. So did Kautilya.
That night, Chandra snored softly. Outside, Raja faked sleep, eavesdropping.
Kautilya:"You flinched at 'Nanda.' Why?"
Mura:"When Chandra was born, I had a vision from Maa Durga. My son would build Akhand Bharat after defeating the nada dynasty, guided by a southern runaway prince and a pandit named Kautilya. I never believed it. Until now."
Kautilya's breath caught. "Destiny, then. The stars are aligning."
Raja smiled to himself. Jackpot.
At dawn, Kautilya pitched an idea.
"I want to train the boys. Taxila University. The best minds, best skills. We build the future there."
Mura nodded through tears. "Protect each other. Be Ram and Laxman."
Raja hugged her. "We'll be back, Ma. Don't worry. He's gonna be emperor. I'll make sure of it."
And with that, Chandragupta, Kautilya, and Rudra Raja set off toward Taxila—toward war, wisdom, and the making of an unbreakable empire.