𝙀𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙
𝘼𝙧𝙘 𝟮: 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝘼𝙧𝙘
𝘾𝙝 𝟭𝟴 – 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤.
𝟳 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟰 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗔𝗴𝗼.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗞𝗼𝘁𝗮 were loud as always.
The afternoon heat radiated off the asphalt, mixing with the thick scent of diesel exhaust, fried street food, and dust.
Buses honking.
Vendors shouting at the top of their lungs to attract customers.
People walking past each other like flowing water, rushing toward their destinations without a second glance at anyone else.
It was a chaotic, never-ending sea of humanity, drowning out individual thoughts.
But amidst the overwhelming noise, Garvit and Jatin walked through it all like they owned the world.
Or at least… like they had nowhere better to be.
They didn’t fit into the frantic rush of the city.
Their steps were slow, heavy with the leisure of youth.
In their hands—𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗽 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 brea𝘄d 𝗽𝗮𝗸𝗼𝗿𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗽𝗲𝗿.
The oily ink from the newspaper stained their fingertips, and the condensation from the plastic bottles dripped onto the hot ground, evaporating almost instantly.
The excuse they gave at home?
”𝙒𝙚’𝙧𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠.”
Of course, they were nowhere near a park.
They were just wandering, letting the time pass, enjoying the brief freedom away from textbooks, family expectations, and the looming weight of the future.
Jatin spun in place while walking, balancing his drink precariously in one hand, then leaned toward Garvit with a lazy, carefree grin.
”𝘠𝘰, 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘵.”
Garvit took a bite of his bread pakora, chewing slowly as he looked ahead.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?”
Jatin looked around for a second, watching the crowd bypass them.
Suddenly, his expression changed—less playful, more thoughtful.
The sudden shift in his demeanor made him look older than he was.
”𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰… 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙨?
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘴… 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥?”
Garvit stopped walking for half a second.
The question caught him entirely off guard.
It wasn’t the usual banter they shared.
It felt heavy, grounded in a harsh reality that contrasting sharply with their casual afternoon stroll.
Jatin didn’t notice at first and kept walking a few steps ahead, his eyes fixed on the pavement as if searching for an answer there.
Then he realized the lack of footsteps behind him and turned back.
”𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰?”
Garvit resumed walking slowly, closing the distance between them.
He stared down at the half-eaten food in his hand, contemplating the weight of the question.
”𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵,” he said calmly, his voice steady against the background noise of traffic.
“𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴.”
To Garvit, a hero wasn’t just about power.
It was about order.
It was about structure.
Without rules, a hero was no different from the villains they fought.
Jatin nodded, listening intently, but his smile faded slightly.
A look of mild disappointment crossed his features.
”𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩… 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩,” he muttered, looking up at the sky.
The sky was wide and empty above the cramped buildings of Kota.
𝗕𝗹𝘂𝗲.
𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲.
𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁.
It didn’t care about the laws of men, nor did it care about the chaos below.
It just existed.
After a pause, Garvit asked, “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯?”
Jatin didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes stayed on the sky, tracking a distant bird flying without boundaries.
Then he spoke.
His voice dropped to a pitch that sounded terrifyingly serious.
”𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.”
Garvit raised an eyebrow, a small, skeptical smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
”𝘖𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘺.”
Jatin’s voice grew steadier, abandoning any trace of his previous laziness.
He stopped walking entirely, forcing Garvit to stop too.
”𝘈 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴.”
He clenched his fist slightly, the newspaper wrapping crinkling loudly under the sudden pressure.
”𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚.”
Garvit blinked, completely thrown off by the sudden pivot from structural justice to public utility.
”…𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺?”
Jatin nodded, entirely unbothered by Garvit’s confusion.
”𝘠𝘦𝘴.”
He smiled faintly, a visionary spark in his eyes that seemed far too big for a teenager on a chaotic Kota street.
”𝙉𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙖 𝙏𝙚𝙨𝙡𝙖—𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝙢𝙤𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙣 𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮.
𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥.”
His eyes sharpened, boring into Garvit’s.
”𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵.”
A short silence followed.
The honking of a nearby auto-rickshaw broke the spell, shattering the grand atmosphere Jatin had just built around himself.
Then Garvit shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.
”𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.”
Jatin snorted, the heavy philosophical weight lifting instantly as he punched Garvit playfully on the shoulder.
”𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩.”
They walked again.
𝗡𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹.
𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗮𝗹.
𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀.
Two ordinary boys, talking about extraordinary things, completely unaware of the invisible gears of the universe turning around them.
𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻-
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱.
The transition from peace to horror happened in a fraction of a second.
A bright red plastic ball rolled onto the road, bouncing erratically off the uneven pavement.
A child, no older than five, chased after it without thinking, his small eyes locked onto his toy, entirely blind to the danger of the street.
A woman screamed from across the street, a sound of pure, unadulterated terror that cut through the city’s white noise like a blade.
”𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙋—!”
A truck came fast.
Too fast.
The screech of its brakes began, but the momentum was massive, a roaring beast of metal and iron tearing down the lane.
Time slowed.
To Garvit, the world lost its sound.
The colors bled together.
His eyes widened.
His fingers twitched as a primal instinct took over—
𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴—
𝗔 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴—
The ancient energy within him surged toward his fingertips, ready to bend reality, ready to stop the truck or tear the child away from harm’s way.
But he stopped.
A cold, paralyzing thought struck his mind like lightning.
𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱.
The voice of his teacher echoed with absolute authority.
𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤.
𝘕𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵.
One second of hesitation.
That was all it took.
One heartbeat of doubt, weighing the secret world against the mundane world.
For him to move, it was already too late to use magic secretly.
”𝙅𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉—!” Garvit shouted, his voice cracking as he reached out a physical hand instead.
But it was too late.
Jatin didn’t have magic.
He didn’t have rules to follow.
He only had the ideals he had just spoken out loud.
𝗝𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗮𝗻.
Straight 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱.
His sneakers skidded on the dust.
He 𝗗𝗼𝗱𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝗸𝗲 that swerved wildly to avoid him, his eyes locked entirely on the toddler.
He 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, wrapping his arms tightly around the small frame.
With a desperate, explosive burst of strength, Jatin 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲𝘁𝘆 onto the sidewalk.
𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.
For half a second—
Everything froze.
The truck’s grill filled the entire horizon.
Jatin turned his head, his eyes meeting Garvit’s one last time.
There was no fear in them.
Only the calm realization of a promise kept.
𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻—
𝗜𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗰𝘁.
The sound was sickening.
A heavy, dull thud followed by the harsh scraping of metal.
The street turned chaotic.
The illusion of slow motion shattered instantly, replaced by a deafening roar of reality.
𝗣𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴.
𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿, who was frantically pumping his brakes, his face pale with horror.
𝗔 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆, like ants swarming toward a disturbance, blocking the view, whispering, gasping.
But Garvit didn’t hear any of it properly.
The ringing in his ears was deafening.
The world became a blur of motion, but his feet moved on their own.
He pushed through the gathering crowd, shoving people aside with a strength he didn’t realize he was using.
He was already there.
𝗞𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 in the middle of the road.
Hands 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 so violently he could barely extend them.
”𝘖𝘪… 𝘩𝘦𝘺…”
He grabbed Jatin’s shoulder.
The fabric of his shirt was torn, stained with dirt and the dark, terrifying rush of blood.
”𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨… 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱, 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵…”
He shook him gently, then with more urgency, desperate for any sign of life, a groan, a curse, anything.
His voice cracked, tears finally burning his eyes, blurring the sight of his best friend lying broken on the tarmac.
”𝘞𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱.”
Nothing.
Only silence.
The kind that doesn’t answer back, no matter how loud you scream into it.
And in that silence—
Something inside 𝗚𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁𝗹𝘆.
The boy who wanted to follow the rules, the boy who hesitated because of a decree, died right there on the asphalt next to his friend.
𝟳 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟮 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗔𝗴𝗼
𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁.
The sun filtered through the morning haze of the city, casting long shadows on the pavement.
𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘁𝘀 were filled with students in neat uniforms, laughing, sharing homework, complaining about exams.
Normal life continued like nothing happened.
The world didn’t stop revolving just because one boy’s life had been completely derailed.
It was a cruel, beautiful reality.
Garvit walked with 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻.
The plastic cords swayed against his chest.
The volume was turned up high, isolation being his only shield against the world.
𝘽𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚 𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣 playing softly in his ears, the steady, rhythmic beat a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts always swirling in his head.
Then he stopped.
His breath hitched in his throat.
In front of him—
𝗝𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻.
He was standing near the school gate, leaning heavily against a pair of aluminum 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘀.
His 𝗟𝗲𝗴𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, thin and frail compared to how they used to be.
𝗕𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝘃𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 beneath the hem of his school trousers, a grim reminder of the price of his heroism.
But he was there.
Waiting for him.
”𝘠𝘰, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰.” Jatin called out, a weak but genuine smile on his face.
Jatin turned back to head inside, his movements slow and agonizingly deliberate.
Garvit continued walking, matching his pace perfectly, stepping alongside him so Jatin wouldn’t have to strain to keep up.
”𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘩𝘶𝘩?” Garvit asked, his voice low, hiding the immense wave of relief wash over him.
Jatin rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the crutches.
”𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺.”
Garvit looked down at his legs, his chest tightening with a familiar guilt.
If he hadn’t hesitated… if he had just used his magic…
”𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸?”
Jatin shrugged, lifting one crutch slightly to show he could manage.
”𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.”
𝗔 𝗽𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲.
The weight of what had happened hung between them, unspoken but deeply understood.
Jatin didn’t know about Garvit’s magic, and Garvit would never forgive himself for his hesitation.
Then they started 𝘄𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻.
𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀.
𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗮𝗱.
𝟱 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗔𝗴𝗼
𝗘𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗠𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀.
The grand hall was cold, built of ancient stone that seemed to absorb the very light.
The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and old parchment.
New warriors stood in formation, straight-backed, expressions carved from marble.
𝗚𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘁.
𝗔𝘆𝗮𝘁𝗼.
𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀.
Each one of them had given up their ordinary lives to step into the hidden world of power and duty.
Master stood in front of them.
𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗺.
𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘃𝘆.
His presence alone was enough to make the air feel thick, a manifestation of decades of accumulated mana.
”𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩,” he said, his voice echoing off the high stone arches.
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦.”
His eyes swept over the line of young faces, assessing their resolve, before his eyes shifted to Garvit.
”𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥.”
Garvit stepped up, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor.
He broke rank and stood before the old man.
He Bowed, lowering his head in absolute respect.
Master’s voice deepened, resonating with an ancient power.
”𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch, building an unbearable tension in the room.
”𝙄𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙖.”
The God of Lightning.
The King of Gods.
A title of absolute power and devastating responsibility.
Garvit felt something heavy settle in his chest.
𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿.
𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲.
𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴… 𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿.
𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.
He didn’t want the glory.
He wanted the power to never hesitate again.
He wanted to ensure that no one close to him would ever pay the price for his weakness.
Master held out a scroll, bound in dark leather and sealed with wax.
”𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.”
The air tightened instantly.
The training was over.
Reality was beginning.
𝗢𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗞𝗼𝘁𝗮 – 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗭𝗼𝗻𝗲.
A flash of blinding blue light tore through the shadows of the trees.
Teleportation completed.
The spatial displacement left a faint scent of ozone in the air.
Wind rushed through trees, shaking the canopy above as if warning the intruders away.
Mana pressure thick in the air, a heavy, suffocating blanket that indicated something foul was nesting in the deep woods.
Everyone prepared their weapons.
Swords were drawn, bows strung, and magical circles faintly glowed around the hands of the young mages.
Garvit stood at the front, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon, his eyes scanning the dense foliage.
Somewhere far away—
𝟯 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘇𝗼𝗻𝗲—
Deep in a public reserve section of the same forest, a completely different group was enjoying the weekend.
𝗖𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀.
Tourists, families, and nature lovers who knew nothing of the world of monsters and mages.
𝗝𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻 stood among them.
He was wearing a casual jacket, a strap around his neck.
Holding a camera.
𝗖𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸.
He captured the image of a rare, vibrant bird resting on a high branch.
He smiled, looking at the digital preview screen.
”𝘔𝘢𝘯… 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.
𝘞𝘦’𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘯.”
He sighed, missing his friend who had grown increasingly distant and secretive over the past few years.
Suddenly, the wind changed.
The warm breeze turned ice-cold.
Birds stopped singing.
The sudden, absolute silence of nature was terrifying.
The forest went silent.
Something was coming.
Something wrong.
Something massive.
And Garvit, standing in the opposite direction miles away, suddenly felt it.
His sensory mana spiked violently.
His grip tightened on his hilt, his knuckles turning white.
”…𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭.”
A mage raised his hand to cast a tracking spell, the magical runes hovering in the air.
”𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘦𝘴𝘵.”
The mages began to deploy, assuming the threat was confined to their sector.
But far away in East—
Jatin was still smiling, looking at the rustling bushes, thinking it was just a larger animal.
𝗨𝗻𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲.
Still 𝗵𝘂𝗺𝗮𝗻.
Still 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲.
And Then…
The forest split with pressure.
A shockwave of pure, corrupted mana rippled through the trees, snapping branches and tearing leaves from their stems.
Mana surged like a storm waking up, a sleeping leviathan opening its eyes.
Warriors moved forward, sprinting toward the source of the anomaly.
But fate had already decided something else.
The coordinates were wrong.
The beast was not where they expected it to be.
Because this wasn’t just a mission anymore.
It was a collision course.
Between 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗿𝘀 rushing to prove themselves…
And 𝗰𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 trapped in a nightmare they couldn’t comprehend…
𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝘂𝘁𝘆 to the estate…
And 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹 of the innocent.
And somewhere in the middle of it all—
A name that would change everything, a force that would have to choose between the rules of the mages and the life of a friend.
𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮.