In a shadowed alley behind the restaurant, flames erupted from beneath a pair of crushed boots. A sudden blaze consumed the robed corpses in black uniforms, turning them into crackling ash.
The air shimmered from the residual heat as a lone figure stood amid the dust his silhouette calm, his breathing steady. His blade, still glowing faintly with an orange aura, was gently sheathed into a disguised guitar case.
Surya Teja received a call. Without glancing at the screen, he answered casually.
"Padma, right? So… what did you suddenly remember?"
On the other end, Padma's voice trembled. "Surya, I'm assigning you an immediate mission… It's about Anaya's friend Riya. She's in danger."
Surya yawned softly.
Padma's tone sharpened. "This isn't the time for jokes! I know why you're stalling, but I've kept something from you. You already knew President Aditya gave her a weapon. What I didn't tell you is… the symbol on that gun is a spear."
The moment she said it, Surya's entire expression changed. His fingers stiffened against the guitar case.
"Aditya uncle… really did that?" he whispered. "He knows what it means to bear the spear. He should've known better."
Padma could almost feel the temperature drop on his end. "So you'll go?"
Surya snapped the guitar case shut. "I'll be there before anything happens. And Padma Aunty… don't worry. Your two most valuable pawns.Ayaan and Dev are already with her."
Then he hung up.
---
In the back of the restaurant, Dev pinned the disguised butler against the wall while Ayaan crouched, his eyes locked onto the man's trembling hands.
"I don't know the reason," the butler gasped, "but the client said… she's connected to the spear. That was enough."
Ayaan flinched. He felt it again an eerie tick in the air. A soft flick, like the click of a hidden camera lens. His eyes darted around, scanning every shadow. He stood slowly and smashed his fist into the man's gut.
"Who's your client?"
Suddenly, a sharp glass-crack rang out from above. A glint flashed in the air. A knife dropped straight down, embedding into the butler's skull. A note fluttered on a string tied to its hilt.
Dev tore the message open and read aloud:
"Instead of worrying about a dead piece of meat, why not worry about the girl Riya, was it? She's about to die."
Ayaan's face drained of color. He locked eyes with Dev. Neither said a word. They bolted toward the restaurant door.
Unseen from a rooftop across the street, a camera lens flickered. Shyam, the news reporter, smirked as he captured the shot. "Gotcha."
From another rooftop, a guitar string sang quietly in the wind. Surya leapt off the edge, silent as a blade drawn in moonlight.
Above them all, atop a rooftop overlooking the entire scene, a crimson radiance pulsed from a rotating axe. A shadowy figure stood there, unmoving, watching it unfold like theater.
"The dynamic duo of youth," he murmured with malice. "The newly forged sword… the coward's decision… the desperation of bow … the trembling rise of a fallen shield… and the reckless fire of a spear."
A soft wind broke the silence. Another man appeared beside him older, wiser, holding a curled palm-leaf manuscript.
"So… they're gathering again," the old man spoke. "What's your opinion of our Council of Six?"
The figure didn't even turn. "You already know my opinion."
And then space cracked. Light fractured like glass. Both vanished into the break in reality.
---
Elsewhere…
In a dim-lit private room, Ajay lounged on a plush chair, his legs draped over the armrest, watching a twisted scene from a movie where a group of men circled a screaming woman. His tongue clicked in amusement as he took a swig of beer.
His phone rang. Annoyed, he barked into the call, "This better be good. You interrupted my favorite part."
On the line, Shyam chuckled. "Mr. Ajay. I couldn't dig up much on that brandless bastard, but today, I snapped a goldmine—photos of him and his friend beating a man behind a restaurant."
Ajay grinned. "Perfect. Send them. I want every angle."
Just then, Bhanupratap entered the room, his face cold, and tossed a thick file onto the table. "Here. Our next move. And your target."
Ajay opened the folder lazily. A photo of Riya stared back at him. The file was titled:
"Target: The New Holder of Spear."
Ajay licked his lips, not even trying to hide his twisted satisfaction.
"I know her," he sneered. "I'll handle this one personally."
He held the photo closer and whispered, "Anaya… you rejected me for that Ayaan? Then here's my gift to you. First your little friend Riya… then it's your turn."
He flicked his tongue across Riya's photo—taunting, revolting.
Meanwhile, Bhanupratap flipped the TV on. The screen displayed a breaking news bulletin:
"Only two hours remain until the live speech of the newly appointed Vice President—Mr. Ranvijay."
-----
Inside the restaurant, tension hung in the air like a mist unspoken, but palpable. Teja stood still, his fingers brushing over the strings of his guitar, but not playing.
He looked over at Ayaan and Dev, then at Riya whose tear-marked face barely held together composure. A soft sigh escaped his lips, and he murmured quietly to himself:
"It's ugly…"
The words weren't loud, but Riya heard them. Her eyes flared, her heart cracked deeper.
"What did you just say?" she snapped, her voice shaking. "Yeah, I'm ugly! My face is ugly, my fate is ugly , my life is ugly! So just leave me the hell alone!"
But Teja didn't flinch. He smiled faintly, his voice warm and sincere.
"But… you don't want to be alone, Riya."
Riya's mouth quivered, unsure how to respond—but before she could, Dev cut in sharply, his tone laced with suspicion.
"Teja… we just met this morning. Why do you sound like you already know us?"
A second voice followed—calm, direct, and cutting.
"Yes, a same question, Teja," Anaya added while crossing her arms, eyes narrowing. "Why do you speak like you've known us for years? Are you stalking us?"
Teja blinked, then chuckled softly. A flash of memory crossed his eyes of a slightly older girl teasing him long ago, calling him "weird" for his thoughts. His smile deepened as he replied:
"As an admirer of love… I always find a reason to observe people in love. You call it stalking—I call it poetry."
A cold shiver ran down his back. He turned and caught the synchronized stares of Pooja and Sneha, whispering to each other with mischievous grins:
"He's definitely single."
Sweat formed at his temple.
Ayaan, who had been quiet, noticed sweat running down his own cheek his mind lost in tangled thoughts. Anaya gently reached to wipe it away, but before she could, Riya suddenly rushed toward Anaya and threw her arms around her.
"I don't want to be alone… I don't want to be alone…" she cried.
Everyone froze for a moment.
Ayaan exhaled slowly, watching the two girls hold each other. A smile touched his lips. He admired their bond. But when he turned to look at Dev who was scanning the restaurant, back straight, alert his expression hardened.
"What made Riya like this?" dev wondered silently. "Was it something I missed? Or something you did, Mr. Ranveer…"
"IT'S BEAUTIFUL!" Teja suddenly shouted, voice echoing across the table.
Everyone turned to him, startled.
Teja closed his eyes and laughed. "This kind of chaos… This kind of emotion… It's all beautiful."
---
Meanwhile, at 5:30 PM – Inside the President's Office…
In the quiet of the presidential chamber, Aditya Rajan sat alone, his eyes fixed on the sheathed blade resting on the wall Rudra's sword. A subtle gleam of red flickered along its edge, as if the weapon itself remembered its wielder.
Aditya whispered under his breath, "We are still waiting, Rudra… Come back safely. Please don't let this sword shine again."
Behind him, two men sat with composed expressions Suravarna, calm and noble, and Captain Rathore, upright and sharp-eyed.
Rathore chuckled, "That bow symbol on your chest, Aditya… It suits you. Just like the old days."
Aditya smiled faintly, tapping the bow insignia on his white jacket. "Thank you for the compliment."
Rathore opened a file and slid it across the table. "I've handed the sniper to Ayaan."
Suravarna followed, his voice proud. "And my grandson Surya is ready. The sword we taught, the strength he forged he's our hidden trump card."
Aditya's gaze shifted to the news channel on the mounted TV.
On the screen, a large podium crowd clapped as a man in a crisp white shirt stepped forward, raising three fingers. He spoke firmly, his words reaching homes and minds across the nation:
"If anyone dares to interrupt the lives of ordinary people whether it's a criminal, a businessman, a politician… or even devils and demons then as your new Vice President, I will personally deal with them."
The screen froze on his determined face—Ranvijay.
Aditya sat back, the air heavy around him.
"With that speech… the countdown has begun," he said calmly. "Three weeks left—until Operation SBS begins."