In a house, a woman was stitching a beautiful cloth while casually flipping through TV channels. Suddenly, the loud noise of screams, shouts, and what sounded like gunfire blared from one of the action movies. She slapped her forehead in frustration and walked toward another room.
She shouted, "Rohan, stop messing with your Ayaan brother's room!"
Rohan, sitting inside while holding his mobile with arrogant focus, replied, "Okay, Mom!"
As Tanvi was about to leave the room, she heard a girl's voice coming from Rohan's mobile. Curious, she turned back and asked, "Who's that?"
With a proud posture, Rohan smirked, "Mom, I already told you last time — I met my girlfriend during that gaming competition."
Tanvi raised an eyebrow with a weird look. "Okay, okay. Speaking of competition, today's the finals of the singing competition, right?"
Rohan grumbled, "Mom, don't disturb me — we're about to lose the battle… Oh shit, we lost!"
With a fake crying face, he muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I heard today is the finals. Wait... I think brother's gf is taking the finals!"
Tanvi's curiosity sparked. "Oh! I need to change the channel!"
Rohan threw his mobile aside and hurried over to check the TV. "Oh shit! Why the hell did I forget this? Mom, do you know the name of my future sister-in-law?"
Tanvi, nervous yet eager, said, "Yeah… her name is Ana—"
At that exact moment, the TV host announced: "Welcome, Miss Anaya, to the stage, please!"
Rohan and Tanvi, eyes wide and filled with excitement, shouted in unison, "We changed the channel at the right time!"
----
On the top floor of a nearby building, Ayaan lay prone, eye fixed through the sniper scope aimed at the venue. The faint echo of the announcer calling "Miss Anaya to the stage" rippled through the air, brushing against something deep in his heart. His fingers tightened around the rifle. For a fleeting second, he wanted to abandon the mission — to throw down his weapon, jump from the shadows, and run to her.
But Rathore's words burned through his mind: "no matter what maintain the balance between mission and bond "
Ayaan exhaled slowly, regaining his focus.
Just behind him, stationed as backup, Rohit had already engaged with an approaching Hollow Pact squad. As soon as he heard the announcer say "Anaya," a strange mix of relief and fury surged through him. Gritting his teeth, Rohit unsheathed his blade and, with calculated rage, slashed down the group of five hooded attackers. His voice was low but laced with pride:
"You better sing loud, Anaya. Everyone who dares silence you will fall by my sword."
---
At the rear side of the venue, deep in an alley, Surya clashed violently with Pothasura — the Sixth Founder of the Council of Six. The sound of Anaya's name rang out faintly from the open air, cutting through the noise of their deadly duel.
Surya's expression hardened. "For her..." he muttered, his aura intensifying with burning orange light. He dashed forward, his blade clashing with Pothasura's in a flurry of strikes that no longer held back.
Pothasura sneered. "Still protecting hearts like your father, puppet?"
But Surya's answer came with a furious upward strike that knocked him backward.
---
Inside an old, crumbling building nearby, a cloaked woman danced with a deadly grace as she battled a hybrid Hollow Pact member. With a final twirl, she pinned the creature down with a blade through its core.
The woman glanced over at Dev, bloodied and barely conscious, and then toward the faint sound of the announcer from her mic : "Anaya has now taken the stage..."
Drawing a sleek samurai sword, she muttered with urgency, "Forgive me for not playing fair. I'm in a hurry — I must see Anaya my only junior performance."
In one swift motion, she decapitated the enemy before it could regenerate.
Riya, while treating Dev's wounds, looked up in shock. "W-Who is she? How does she know my best friend Anaya?"
---
On the grand stage, under the bright lights, a young woman stood motionless for a heartbeat. Anaya. Dressed simply yet elegantly, she gripped the mic with trembling fingers.
Her eyes swept over the crowd and locked briefly with the judging panel, where President Aditya sat still. The expression on his face wasn't one of duty, but of something far deeper — guilt, awe, longing. He clutched at the bow-shaped badge on his chest.
"Sister," he whispered under his breath, "Look at your daughter... she grew so strong, even without me."
He was the first to begin clapping and the applause followed like a tidal wave.
Amid the thunderous crowd, Anaya closed her eyes. The world went quiet in her mind. Only one face formed in the darkness Ayaan's.
She smiled softly.
Then, with voice steady and resonant, she spoke into the mic:
"Today, my song is... The One Who Holds My Heart."
---
The stage lights dimmed slightly, the hall holding its collective breath.
Anaya stood alone.her figure small, yet steady under the soft spotlight.
She blinked.
First blink Guilt.
A sharp memory carved itself into her vision.
A pale woman, breathless on a hospital bed. A crying girl clutching her hand, another man trying to hold her together as his voice cracked "Sister…"
The woman in bed, despite her pain, turned to Anaya with a fragile smile.
Her voice, soft but resolute:
> "With my end… the melody of our NUMN University collapses… just like our university.
But Anaya… your voice must live on.
My last wish… is for you to win the NSRM City competition. If I have an afterlife… I'll pray to return as your daughter."
Anaya, kneeling, had only guilt in her heart that day.
Her hands trembled on the mic as the memory faded. She blinked again.
Second blink—Love.
It was a peaceful night, the kind she rarely saw.
Moonlight filtered through the window onto a desk.
Ayaan, grown, full beard, sat writing, his pen dancing softly across the paper.
She tiptoed behind him, hugging him from the back, whispering with warmth,
"What's my dear Ayaan doing now?"
He flinched, startled, then chuckled. Turning his head just enough, he embraced her with one arm.
"Don't jump-scare me, woman."
He kissed her hand and smiled.
"My wife, I'm writing a song… every memory with you is a lyric."
She leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"Every song has a name. What's this one?"
Ayaan's ears flushed red. "My Lovely Days With Her."
She blinked, smiling softly—but that warmth was immediately shattered.
Third blink The Day of Nightmare.
A valley drowned in screams.
Blood spilled like rivers.
Corpses littered the earth, limbs mangled, lives erased.
In the center stood the Shadow Figure…
Crimson axe radiating menace.
Anaya gasped as the echo of the blade's hum rang in her ears.
Her fists clenched, voice nearly caught—but she blinked again.
Final blink—Hope.
A loop. A timeline. A moment.
Ayaan's face, anxious but filled with belief, stared at her. It was her fifth loop , her fifth chance.
He didn't speak, but his eyes told her everything:
> Sing. No matter what. Live, even if I cannot. Change this story.
Anaya opened her eyes fully now.
All the blinks guilt, love, fear, hope merged inside her.
From the depths of her heart, steady and strong, her voice rose.
She sang.
"The One Who Holds My Heart."
---
Anaya's voice surged through the venue, crisp and powerful, filling every inch of space with emotion. The audience erupted—thunderous applause, cheers, and whistles echoed in waves, but her voice overpowered even that.
On the outskirts of the venue – The Rooftop Duel
Surya's sword locked in a brutal clash with Pothasura, the Sixth Founder of the Council of Six.
He halted for a moment, panting slightly.
Anaya's melody reached his ears, weaving through the air like a breeze breaking through smog. Surya murmured "It's beautiful…"
Pothasura sneered, voice laced with mockery, "What's beautiful? That voice?"
Surya's eyes gleamed—a cold, admiring fire.
He placed a single finger on his lips and smiled darkly. "Don't mess with me if I'm an admirer of love."
In a blink, his blade danced through the air slicing Pothasura's knives mid-swing and slashing deep into his side.
Pothasura stumbled backward, coughing blood.
"Tired already? This was just a warm-up. But in the real battle… you lose everything."
A sudden burst of smoke engulfed him—vanishing with a loud hiss.
Surya stood firm, slicing through the smoke and muttering,"Let's see who really wins."
---
In the shadows behind the venue
Rathore, bruised but unwavering, heard Anaya's voice through the chaos. It pierced the night like a balm and a blade—soothing his soul, yet stirring guilt in Aditya, who stared at the stage in silence.
One Hollow Pact member lunged at Rathore.
Without turning, Rathore spun his blade and gutted the attacker.his voice cold, "That makes nineteen."
A deep voice echoed behind him. "Twenty-one."
Rathore turned. Bhairava approached, his weapon dripping shadowy blood. They exchanged a wordless fist bump.
---
Inside the tanvi House
Rohan, swept up in the song, beamed. "Mom, brother's selection—seriously awesome! Hey… why are you so quiet?"
Tanvi, still watching the screen, her fingers frozen on the remote, muttered "Yeah… Ayaan's choice is good.
I don't know why… but those eyes… I've seen them before."
Her voice was distant—lost in some old, buried memory.
---
On the Rooftop .
Ayaan, despite the noise of the crowd, felt her voice reach for him.
That same longing. That silent pull.
He touched the shield emblem on his sniper her memory embedded in every breath.
Rohit, watching him, spoke—firm, with rough sincerity "Rathore told me.
After me and Isha… you're the second to fall for someone. Really fall."
Ayaan clutched his heart, the weight of the moment heavy. "I don't know…
But why are you curious? Since when do you care about me?"
Rohit's eyes softened, his gaze lowering. "It's not about you.Just like Isha… as her senior, …We have a duty to protect her."
His voice faltered. Quietly, brokenly, he added:
"She's not just a friend..She's the last… survivor of…"
But the words trailed off—lost in the wind.
---
Unknown Location – Modern Office
A sleek television shattered under a powerful fist. Glass and wires sparkled like dying stars.
A man—Mr. V—stood fuming, veins pulsing at his temple.. "She's still alive…?"
A Personal Assistant rushed in, panicked. "Mr. V—what happened?"
Without blinking, Mr. V pulled a gun and shot him cold.
"Anaya… She's one of the Five Survivors of NUMN University."
But just as the words left him, a sudden crack pierced his skull.
His eyes rolled. The world spiraled.
A sinister voice—mocking, almost sympathetic—whispered "Not yet…"
Darkness swallowed him.
Mr. V awoke moments later, sweat drenching his shirt.
The broken TV buzzed. His PA's corpse bled into the marble.
He clutched his head. "What… what just happened…?"
---
Meanwhile, beneath the venue…
A metallic panel blinked red.
A soft beep.
A countdown ticked:
00:10:00
The timer to destruction had begun.