## Chapter 22: A Soldier's Intuition
Rahul unlocked the car, the metal keys catching the streetlamp's glare before he tossed them in a high, lazy arc.
"You drive."
I caught them out of the air, the cold brass biting into my palm as I grinned.
"Gladly."
Before my hand could touch the driver's door handle, Ishika crossed her arms, a deep frown puckering her forehead.
"Why does he get to drive? Let me do it."
Rahul and I exchanged a quick, knowing look. Without a single beat of hesitation, we spoke in perfect, dry unison.
"No."
"Why not?" she demanded, her voice rising an octave.
Rahul scratched the back of his head, offering her a sweet, entirely innocent smile.
"It’s... safer this way."
"Besides," I added, sliding into the seat and adjusting the rearview mirror, "we actually value our lives. I’d like to reach my twenties without experiencing vehicular whiplash, thank you very much."
For a second, she just stared at us, her chest heaving with mock outrage. Then, she lunged forward and delivered a swift, stinging punch to both of our backs through the gap in the front seats.
"You idiots!"
Rahul scrambled into the passenger seat, locking his door with a dramatic, heavy click.
"Driver, move the car! Fast! She's breached the perimeter!"
"Yes, sir!"
I twisted the key, the engine roaring to life as I fought back a laugh. Ishika climbed into the back, slamming her door and crossing her arms with an exaggerated, windswept huff.
"Fine. I’m not talking to either of you anymore. You both can walk home next time."
The heavy silence lasted less than a minute. As the car glided onto the main road toward her neighborhood—the city lights casting long, amber streaks across the dashboard—I glanced at the rearview mirror and broke the ice.
"You probably won't be able to contact me for a while."
Her posture stiffened immediately, the playful anger instantly melting from her eyes.
"Why?"
"I can't tell you." I caught her gaze in the glass, letting a small, teasing smirk play on my lips. "You’ll understand once you actually get to the military college."
She narrowed her eyes into suspicious, calculated slits.
"You’re hiding something from me. You always do this when you're planning something stupid."
"I am," I admitted freely.
But before she could press further, I let the playfulness drop from my face. I softened my voice, my tone turning deadly serious as I steered the car through a quiet intersection.
"But I do have one piece of advice."
Ishika leaned forward, her elbows resting on the console between our seats. The casual atmosphere evaporated, leaving only the quiet hum of the engine.
"What is it?"
"If your military academy ever offers you a special program... something that seems unusually dangerous, promising rapid advancement..." I paused, letting the hum of the tires fill the sudden weight in the cabin. "...don't rush your decision. Think carefully before you accept anything."
"Is it that bad?" she whispered.
"There may be a chance to gain extraordinary power," I said, my grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel. "But there is also a very real chance you won't survive it."
The light, warm atmosphere we had built inside the car vanished, replaced by a cold, suffocating draft. Ishika stared at the back of my head, processing the gravity of my words, before she quietly nodded.
"I'll remember that. I promise."
I knew those academy programs inside out.
Some forced an unnatural awakening in martial artists through high-pressure spiritual environments; others unlocked dormant magical talents by exposing candidates to raw, volatile mana stones. A few even triggered raw supernatural abilities through experimental, high-risk serum injections.
But the survival rate was abysmal. Many candidates simply never returned from the trials, their names quietly erased from the rosters and filed away as "training casualties."
If I wanted to, I could help Ishika awaken her potential without any of the danger.
> In my previous life, there had been a rare, closely guarded formula known as the **Awakening Potion**. Anyone who drank it could trigger their latent powers smoothly, bypassing the deadly physical trials entirely.
>
But I couldn't risk revealing that knowledge here. The second a secret like that leaked, every ruthless, power-hungry force on Earth would hunt me down to harvest the formula. Besides, I didn't even know if the rare, raw ingredients required to brew the potion—like the *Shattered-Core Lotus* or *Prismatic Mana-Dust*—existed in this current era.
Slowly, we steered our conversation back toward safer, lighter topics, trying to shake off the chill. We talked about old school memories, bad cafeteria food, and Rahul's terrible attempt at cooking last week.
Before long, the car pulled up in front of Ishika's house.
The moment she stepped out onto the pavement, she froze.
An elderly man stood completely still near the iron gate, his posture straight as a spear despite his advanced years. His hands were clasped behind his back, and the silver in his hair gleamed under the overhead streetlamp.
It was her grandfather.
"Grandpa?" Ishika asked, her voice laced with confusion. "What are you doing standing out here? It's freezing."
Rahul and I quickly opened our doors and stepped out into the night air.
"Namaste, Grandpa," we said, bowing our heads slightly in respect.
He smiled, a warm, gentle crinkling around his eyes that softened his otherwise stern visage.
"Namaste, boys." He turned his gaze to his granddaughter. "Go on inside first, Ishika. Your grandmother made some warm tea. I'd like to have a brief word with your friends."
She looked back and forth between the three of us, her brow furrowed as she tried to piece things together. Perhaps she was remembering the strange, ominous warning I had just given her in the car. But she didn't argue; she simply nodded, bid us a quiet goodnight, and walked up the stone path into the house.
I reached out and pulled the rear door of the car back open.
"Why don't we talk inside, Grandpa? It's warmer."
He gave a slow, appreciative nod and slid onto the back bench. Rahul and I climbed back into our respective seats, closing the doors to shut out the biting night breeze.
A heavy, expectant silence filled the vehicle. Finally, Rahul cleared his throat, turning around in his passenger seat.
"So... what did you want to discuss with us?"
The old man remained quiet for a long moment, staring down at his weathered, calloused hands before a soft smile touched his lips.
"Nothing of great importance. I only wanted to ask you one question." His eyes, incredibly sharp and clear for his age, locked onto ours. "Are you both truly good friends to my Ishika?"
Rahul and I didn't hesitate, our voices overlapping in the quiet car.
"Yes."
His smile widened, a deep, invisible line of tension easing from his broad shoulders.
"Good. Then I can rest easy."
I frowned slightly, the question that had been lingering in my mind for weeks finally slipping out.
"There’s something I've been wanting to ask you, Grandpa."
He tilted his head, listening intently.
"If you know how brutal and dangerous military life is... why did you send all your grandchildren to the academy? Why put them through that?"
He leaned his head back against the headrest, letting out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime of battles.
"During my years in the active service... I reached heights that very few men ever dream of achieving." He gave a faint, nostalgic smile. "I owe almost all of it to my intuition."
"Intuition?" Rahul asked.
"Yes. I even had the military doctors examine me once, wondering if it was some sort of dormant supernatural power or an unawakened trait. It wasn't. But it was always... just one step away from it. My instincts warned me of ambush and disaster countless times. They guided me to make choices that my superiors called foolish, even suicidal. And yet, those exact choices protected my country and kept my men alive."
He turned his head, looking out the window at the dark, peaceful silhouette of his family's home.
"My two sons fought during the first **Dimension Invasions**. They were ordinary humans, without a shred of awakened power or magical protection. Yet they survived meat-grinder battles that left high-tier awakened soldiers dead in the dirt."
His expression suddenly hardened, the gentle grandfather vanishing in an instant, replaced by the ghost of a hardened commander who had commanded thousands.
"Until recently... my intuition had never given me such a violent, persistent sense of dread. It feels like a blade resting permanently against my throat." He folded his weathered hands over his knee. "Looking at the chaos spreading across the globe, I can feel it in my bones. Something massive and terrible is coming. And to ensure my grandchildren have a fighting chance when the world tears itself apart, I have to send them into the fire now."
I couldn't help but challenge him gently.
"Isn't that a contradiction? If a major war truly breaks out, they will be the very first ones sent to the front lines because of their academy status."
He nodded slowly, acknowledging the grim, undeniable truth.
"It seems that way, yes. But I would rather give them the weapons, the discipline, and the strength to defend themselves... than spend my final days praying the darkness never knocks on their door while they remain helpless."
Silence fell over the car again, heavy and absolute. There was nothing left to argue. His logic was brutal, born of a survivalist's love.
After a few quiet moments, the old man pushed his door open and stepped out onto the driveway. Before he closed it, he leaned back in, his eyes searching ours one last time.
"I hope your bond with Ishika never breaks. If she ever loses her path... please, guide her back. She is still young, after all. And by far the most spoiled."
I smiled, my chest tightening with a quiet, fierce resolve.
"You didn't even need to ask, Grandpa. We've been by her side since we were kids."
Rahul nodded in vigorous agreement. "Yeah, we wouldn't have it any other way. I actually like her noisy self around. Keeps things interesting."
The old man let out a soft, dry chuckle before turning and walking back toward the porch lights. We sat in silence, watching until the front door clicked shut behind him, sealing the warmth inside.
I turned the key, the engine purring as I pulled away from the curb and merged onto the deserted night streets.
As we drove, Rahul finally spoke, his voice unusually quiet.
"That was... heavy. He really thinks a war is coming, doesn't he?"
"Yeah. It was. And he's usually right."
For a mile, only the orange hum of the streetlights passed over us in rhythmic intervals. Then, Rahul looked over, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Do you really think his intuition is that accurate?"
"I don't know," I replied honestly. "But my father once told me about his military record. Even as a normal human, his tactical contributions during the Dimension Invasions were legendary. He actually received multiple medals from the **Veil Council**."
Rahul’s eyes went wide, his jaw dropping slightly in the dim dashboard light.
"Are you serious? *The* Veil Council?"
I nodded.
"Getting a medal from the Veil Council is rare enough for elite, awakened. For an ordinary human... you could probably count them on one hand. He's one of them."
Rahul let out a low, long whistle, sinking back into his seat.
"So the old man is a living legend. No wonder he has that aura."
"He is."
By the time the conversation wound down, I was pulling up to my own driveway. I unbuckled and opened the driver's side door, but stopped before stepping out, turning back to Rahul.
"Rahul."
He looked up from his phone. "Yeah?"
"Why don't you ask your grandfather to let my dad train you?"
He blinked, caught completely off guard by the suggestion.
"You mean... for awakening my prana?"
I nodded firmly.
"Your family has tried dozens of refined, ancient methods, and none of them worked because your pathways are too stubborn. My dad's training style is rough, unpolished, and borderline barbaric... but it worked for me. It forces the energy to move. It might be exactly what your body needs to break through."
Rahul stared at the dashboard, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with the idea of my dad's notoriously brutal workouts. Finally, a slow, determined nod settled over his face.
"You might actually be onto something. If I go to the academy unawakened, I'll just be dead weight. I'll talk to my grandfather tonight."
I smiled, extending my hand across the console.
"Good."
He slapped his palm against mine with a broad, confident grin.
"See you around, driver."
"See you, passenger."
I stepped out, watching the taillights of the car vanish down the dark street before turning toward my house.
Inside, the warm glow of the living room welcomed me, smelling faintly of spices and tea. My parents were curled up on the sofa, the low murmur of the evening news humming in the background.
"I'm home," I called out, kicking off my shoes.
"Welcome back, beta," Mom replied, her face lighting up with a warm, maternal smile. "Did you guys eat? There's leftovers in the fridge."
"We're good, Mom. Just grabbed a bite earlier."
After chatting with them for a few minutes about nothing in particular, letting the domestic normalcy wash over me, I excused myself and headed upstairs.
The second I shut my bedroom door and changed into loose nightclothes, a wave of pure, bone-deep exhaustion crashed over me. Too many heavy secrets, world-ending warnings, and memories of a past life had filled my head today.
Without even turning off the bedside lamp, I collapsed onto the mattress and let myself drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.