Genesis Maker: The Indian Marvel (Rewrite)-Chapter 75: Ch 72: A Palace Rises, A Nation Stirs

Aryan's heart beat faster. The Bharat Urban Renaissance Authority was ready to build the palace with their own hands, their skill and patriotism undeniable. But this blueprint was beyond mortal craft—a marvel that reshaped reality. It would create Kamal Aasthan, a palace tailored to his role, with features no architect could imagine: adaptive chambers, protective runes, and a laboratory linked to his Sub-Dimensional Space. Using it would propel Bharat forward, giving the nation a capital that echoed its dreams.

He stood, resolve firm. The materials—wood, stone, and more—were already gathered in Ujjain, prepared by the Authority. All he needed was to bring the blueprint and channel his energy. The rest would be magic, guided by the system's power.

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- Ujjain, Bharat -

- May 1, 1937 | Dawn -

The Shipra River shimmered under the morning light, its waters calm against the ancient ghats. Beyond the old city, the new Ujjain was coming alive. Construction sites hummed with workers moving timber and stone, their voices mixing with the clink of tools. At the heart of the 400-acre plot, now cleared and leveled, a crowd gathered—laborers, architects, and locals, drawn by news of the Samrat's arrival.

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Aryan stood at the center of the plot, the blueprint scroll in hand, his presence steady despite the many eyes on him. He wore a simple kurta, but his gaze carried purpose. Beside him, Narasimha Rao and Ananya watched, their faces bright with anticipation and pride. The Authority had prepared the site well, with stacks of wood, marble, and granite neatly arranged, ready for the palace's foundation.

"Samrat," Narasimha said, his voice warm but rough, "the materials are as you requested. We stand ready to assist, however you choose to proceed."

Aryan met his eyes, then Ananya's, seeing their shared dedication. "You've done more than I could have asked," he said. "This city, this plan—it's Bharat's heart, shaped by your hands. But for the palace, I have something... different. A gift from my own resources."

He raised the scroll, Its runes catching the dawn light. Murmurs spread through the crowd. Ananya's eyes widened, her architect's curiosity sparked. Narasimha's brow creased, but he nodded, trusting Aryan's judgment.

"This blueprint," Aryan said, his voice carrying to the workers, "will build a palace worthy of our nation. It needs your materials, your strength, but it will work its own magic. Together, we'll raise a symbol of Bharat's future."

He knelt, placing the scroll on the ground. The runes glowed brighter, a low hum filling the air, like a distant storm. Aryan closed his eyes, drawing on his Energy Absorption and Redistribution X-Gene. He reached out, pulling in the ambient energies around him—the warmth of the rising sun, the steady pulse of the earth, the flow of the nearby river. His Void Physique and Void Mind/Soul worked together, assimilating the energy into his own reserves, while his Ultra High-Speed Regeneration and Thought Acceleration kept him stable, countering the strain. The air grew warm, the ground trembling as the arrays activated.

The crowd gasped as the materials began to move. Stacks of wood and stone lifted, drawn to the scroll as if guided by unseen hands. Beams of light wove through them, reshaping raw granite into polished columns, twisting timber into delicate arches. Marble slabs melted and reformed, etched with lotus patterns and ancient scripts. The blueprint's magic filled the gaps, conjuring golden spires and crystal-clear domes from mere stone dust.

Kamal Aasthan took shape before their eyes. A vast lake formed at the center, its turquoise waters reflecting the rising structure. The palace emerged like a lotus, its base wide and strong, with open courtyards and gardens. Tiered levels rose, each adorned with carvings of Bharat's past and present, leading to a towering central spire that gleamed like the sun. Arched bridges stretched out, connecting to smaller domed buildings surrounded by palm trees and lotus ponds. The structure was breathtaking, rooted in the lake yet reaching for the sky, with misty mountains in the distance framing its beauty.

Aryan channeled more energy, his X-Gene drawing from the environment while his Void Mind/Soul shielded his spirit. Sweat beaded on his brow, but his regeneration kept him steady, his body and mind in harmony. The palace grew, its walls shimmering with faint runes, its bridges sturdy yet elegant.

Ananya gripped her grandfather's arm, her breath catching. "It's... like a dream," she whispered, watching the lake reflect the golden spires. Narasimha's eyes shone, his stern expression softening. The workers cheered, their voices rising as Kamal Aasthan took form, a monument to their shared vision.

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher. Aryan's energy dipped, but his regeneration and energy absorption kept him going, pulling in more from the surroundings. Finally, the blueprint's light dimmed, the scroll dissolving into sparks. Kamal Aasthan stood complete, its golden walls glowing under the noon sun, its gates open to the people.

Aryan stepped back, chest heaving, a quiet pride in his eyes. Kamal Aasthan was everything the blueprint promised: a seat of power, a sanctuary for progress, a home for Bharat's soul. Its hidden features—defensive arrays, arcane labs—would serve him as Samrat, while its open courtyards and carved histories belonged to the nation.

He turned to Narasimha and Ananya. "This is ours," he said simply. "Yours, mine, everyone's."

Ananya's voice shook with emotion. "It's more than I imagined, Samrat. It's... miraculous."

Narasimha rested a hand on her shoulder, his gaze fixed on Aryan. "To be honest, Your Majesty, I was skeptical when you told us earlier that you only needed the materials and to leave the rest to you," he said, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—mostly deep respect for Aryan, for what he had achieved for the country with his immense powers and his vision for the future. "But now I see why they call you Maheshvara. This... it's beyond what we mortals can fathom."

He met Aryan's eyes again, a fire of determination in his own—a spark that had dimmed after the loss of his wife, son, and daughter-in-law. "Your Majesty, I have a request," he said, his voice steady. "Please entrust the construction of the administrative buildings to me and my team. We won't let you down."

Aryan smiled at the renewed resolve in Narasimha's eyes. "Of course, I'll leave it to you," he replied.

The crowd surged forward, voices rising in chants of "Bharat Mata ki Jai." Aryan looked out at them, then at Kamal Aasthan, its spires glinting in the light. He thought of the children whose futures he fought for, of the challenges yet to come. This palace, this city, was a step toward that tomorrow.

As the cheers rang out, Aryan felt a surge of certainty. The Marvel universe loomed with its dangers and unknowns, but here, in Ujjain, Bharat was rising. And he, Samrat Aryan, would lead it forward, one dream at a time.

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