Inside a dimly lit bedroom, the air was thick with tension. A young man huddled in a corner beneath a bedsheet, his body trembling violently. His breath came in erratic gasps, eyes wide and haunted by the memory of a youth—bleeding, limping, holding a dagger—slowly approaching him.
"Monster..." Ajay whispered, then shouted, clutching his head.
The bedroom door burst open. Heavy footsteps echoed across the floor. Ajay recoiled further into the corner, screaming, "Leave me alone! Monster! Don't come near me, Dev!"
But the man who entered wasn't Dev.
It was Bhanupratap, Ajay's father.
He rushed forward, gripping his son in a firm embrace. "Ajay... calm down... it's me... your father..."
But Ajay didn't hear him. His eyes were lost in fear. "My eyes and ears didn't deceive me...! You don't know who he is, father! That guy... Dev... he's a monster!" His voice cracked as he sobbed, "You know my father would never spare someone like you, Dev...! Never!"
Smack.
The slap echoed sharply in the room. Ajay froze. His eyes finally recognized the man before him. "Father..." he gasped, collapsing into Bhanupratap's arms. "Please... please kill Dev... I thought he was just some chill guy... but... he's a monster... I'll never touch Riya again... please just make him go away..."
Tears spilled freely as Ajay clung to his father, rambling through sobs. Bhanupratap, keeping his composure, quietly drew a sedative from his pocket and administered it with practiced efficiency.
Ajay's breathing slowed... and within moments, his body slumped gently into unconsciousness.
Bhanupratap laid his son gently on the bed, covering him. Then, without a word, he turned and walked to the television.
He switched it on. The final round of the National Singing Competition was playing. The crowd cheered. Bright lights flooded the stage.
His gaze locked onto the image of President Aditya on the screen.
A cold smile crept onto his lips.
"I'm impressed, Aditya..." he murmured. "Your pawns left my son in trauma. But you... you bit yourself in that very game. You knew the bombs would go off. And yet you stayed."
He leaned in slightly toward the screen, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Let's see who wins in the end."
----
Inside the venue, Sneha, trembling and pale, rushed toward the room assigned to Anaya. Her breath was sharp, her footsteps erratic as though fear itself had taken root in her bones.
She burst into the room and found Anaya and Pooja casually talking. Pooja, mid-sip, was just about to drink from a bottle of water when Sneha suddenly lunged, snatching it and downing the whole thing in one go.
"What the hell, Sneha?!" Pooja barked, her expression a mix of confusion and annoyance.
After gulping the last drop, Sneha finally steadied her breath. "Girls... we need to leave this place. Right now."
Anaya's smile faltered for a moment. Her eyes briefly narrowed as she murmured under her breath, "Did she see it...?" But with a lighthearted chuckle, she tilted her head and teased, "Why so tense? You're in a hurry to flirt with that stranger Teja, right? Just five minutes left for the award ceremony."
Sneha's hands quivered as she stammered, "It's... it's not that... it's..."
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the venue:
"All participants, please come to the stage!"
Anaya took a small step closer to Sneha, her voice soft and reassuring. "Don't worry. Everyone's here. So don't panic." She gently placed a hand on her shoulder before walking away with subtle determination.
Sneha stood still, watching her friend leave. A whisper escaped her lips, more to herself than anyone:
"Anaya... you know about it, don't you...?"
As Anaya stepped onto the grand stage, her smile masked an undercurrent of tension. Under her breath, she muttered:
"Finally, it's here... the first obstacle of my Ayaan..."
---
Meanwhile, deep within the command center, Padma leaned over her console, eyes wide with elation. She pressed the green button and announced proudly over the internal comms:
"Operation SBS is successful! We've identified and demolished all ten bombs. Repeat—Operation SBS is a success!"
The words triggered a collective exhale of relief.
From the control room to hidden surveillance posts, every member of Project M stationed in the venue relaxed. Among them were Bhairava, Rathore, President Aditya, Isha, Rohit, and Ayaan.
---
On the rooftop, Ayaan wiped the sweat from his brow while cradling his sniper rifle. A water bottle came sailing toward him—tossed casually by Rohit.
"Thanks..." Ayaan mumbled with a tired smile.
But that moment of calm was shattered by a sharp, metallic hum.
Ayaan stiffened. He turned—his breath catching.
Before him stood a shadowed figure, its presence wrapped in darkness, its form crowned with a crimson-radiating axe.
A chill raced down Ayaan's spine.
With a voice laced in malice and irony, the shadow spoke:
"I'm impressed... You even tried to target me with this toy."
Ayaan, heart racing, whispered, "Are... are you real?"
The shadow laughed, low and cruel. "By now, I think you already know the answer."
Ayaan immediately shouldered his rifle and shouted, "Rohit!" But no one was there.
The sky above turned a sickly black, warping like a bleeding wound. Beneath him, the land twisted swallowed by black, tar-like water.
A grotesque eye, massive and ancient, cracked open in the sky.
---
Inside the venue, President Aditya, finally at ease, settled into his chair. Ahead of him, five finalists stood in line as the anchor's voice rang out: "Let's decide the final winner..."
The President's gaze scanned the contestants. All were smiling—except Anaya. Her nervous posture made his eyes narrow with concern.
Without wasting a second, he pressed his communicator.
Nothing. No signal.
On stage, Anaya whispered under her breath:
"Only two minutes left..." She closed her eyes, steadying herself.
---
Back on the rooftop, the shadow sneered as it struck Ayaan's neck, growling, "You've seen far too much."
Clutching Ayaan's throat with a vice-like grip, it hissed:
"If you think the bomb threat is over... you're dead wrong."
"What do you mean...?" Ayaan choked out.
The voice answered with venomous clarity:
"There were one hundred bombs in total—including an item... one that looks like your crowning glory. You see it as your achievement. But for her it's the beginning of something else."
Ayaan's eyes widened as he suddenly visualized Anaya's face, framed against the unraveling sky fracturing like broken glass.
The shadow's voice echoed "Once again... you've seen far too much."
It hurled him off the rooftop.
--
Ayaan blinked.
The sky was normal again. The tar and eye—gone.
But a single sentence echoed in his mind, burned into his memory "Once again... you've seen far too much."
Rohit, standing beside him, looked puzzled. "What happened to you...?"
Still trembling, Ayaan grabbed him. "**The communication's down. Operation SBS... it's not complete. We need to evacuate everyone—right now."
Rohit's confusion vanished in an instant. He nodded. "Got it. Let's go."
The two rappelled off the rooftop using cable ropes, landing hard before sprinting toward the venue.
---
From the rooftop, the shadow figure watched as Ayaan and Rohit dashed toward the venue. The calm sky reflected nothing of the storm beneath.
The figure blinked.
In an instant, that beautiful, cloud-specked sky bled into a canvas of pitch-black darkness, swirling like liquid night. His eyes shifted unnatural hues rippling through his irises.
He whispered, almost regretfully, "Not yet..."
And then, like a fading echo, he vanished.
---
Outside the venue, an ambulance screeched to a halt. The rear doors swung open—Dev and Ranveer were being treated, bandages wrapping their arms, light bruises still fresh.
From the passenger side, Isha jumped down. As she adjusted her coat, her eyes caught a glimpse of Ayaan and Rohit sprinting across the street, urgency in every step.
A chill gripped her spine.
Something was wrong.
Without hesitation, she ran after them.
---
Inside, near the entrance of the venue, Bhairava noticed the commotion—Ayaan and Rohit sprinting straight toward the main doors, only to be stopped by the uniformed security guards.
Bhairava narrowed his eyes. "What's going on...?" he muttered and began walking toward them.
---
At the main doors:
"Let us through—NOW!" Ayaan barked, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He slammed his fist on the scanner post.
A familiar voice, laced with dry sarcasm, cut through the air "Why's my favorite troublemaker in such a hurry?"
Ayaan turned, eyes wide. "Isha... It's been a long time. But no time for that we have to evacuate the entire venue, now!"
Before the guards could argue again, Bhairava approached and, flashing his SBS clearance badge, declared, "Let them through."
No questions followed.
Ayaan stormed in. On the stage, he spotted Anaya, her hands folded calmly in front of her, eyes still closed.
He ran.
From behind, Isha, Bhairava, and Rohit exchanged looks. Something wasn't right. Surya, watching from the shadows, noticed the urgency in their eyes and followed, disappearing in a gust of speed.
---
On the stage, the anchor raised his mic with theatrical flair. "And now... the winner is..."
A sudden male voice roared across the venue. "ANAYA!"
Startled, Anaya's eyes snapped open.
She turned and locked eyes with Ayaan, who had made it to the edge of the stage stairs, only to be blocked by a last layer of security.
The anchor stumbled, irritated. "You bastard! You just killed the vibe for our finalists!" he sneered, trying to recover with forced charm.
"Ahem—apologies for the interruption! Once again, the winner is... Anaya! Please, President Aditya, come on stage to present the award!"
But something was wrong.
Anaya, Ayaan, and Aditya all stood frozen.
The entire venue seemed to fall into a moment of suspended animation like the very air held its breath.
And then... BANG.
A sharp, echoing gunshot tore through the silence.