On one side, Om was desperately searching for his grandfather, fighting against time to protect his family. On the other, the entire world had been thrown into chaos by the news of Bali's death. Overnight, all of Bali's dark operations came to a halt—his illegal supply chains collapsed, his underground networks froze, and across the global black market, a storm had erupted.
Bali wasn't just another criminal—he was one of the top figures in the world of illegal drugs, weapons, and countless shadowy businesses. His sudden death had sent shockwaves through every layer of the underworld. And it wasn't just the black market that felt the impact… there were others too, powerful forces and hidden players, deeply affected by the deaths of Bali, Singhania, and Bhadra.
Deep within the womb of Pataal Lok, in a realm untouched by light, Takshak sat on his monstrous throne inside his demonic palace. The air itself felt heavy, as if burdened by centuries of darkness.
Moments later, Mahishasur entered the grand hall with a group of soldiers. He bowed his head in respect.
Takshak gave a slight nod, his piercing eyes glowing faintly.
Mahishasur spoke, his tone calm but serious.
"Your Majesty… there is bad news."
Takshak's eyes flared with anger as he leaned forward slightly.
"That divine messenger escaped. The child from the prophecy is nowhere to be found. Those half-gods have discovered our plans. What's left now, hmm? Are they already marching toward Pataal Lok? Every time you come here, it's with bad news. Tell me… what happened now?"
Mahishasur remained composed.
"Your Majesty, Bali… our special warrior among humans, the one who carried out major operations for us… has been killed under mysterious circumstances. Because of this, the plan we had involving him has come to a halt. And along with him, his two most trusted men are also dead."
For a moment, silence fell.
Then Takshak slapped his own forehead in frustration, his voice rising with rage.
"Of course… that's all that was left! Just perfect! Forget it… I never had much faith in humans anyway. Wake them up—those lazy, sleeping demons, daityas, and rakshasas. Wake them all, now!"
Mahishasur bowed his head and turned to leave, but just as he took a step forward—
"Wait… just a moment."
Takshak's voice cut through the silence.
Mahishasur stopped immediately, turning back with a confused expression. He walked closer again and bowed.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
Takshak's expression had changed. His anger was now replaced with a cold, calculating seriousness.
"Mahi… doesn't all of this seem strange to you? One event after another… first, the half-gods suddenly discovering our existence… then learning about the child of the prophecy… then that divine messenger escaping the moment he heard… and now, this human dying. Don't you think all of this is connected? This cannot be coincidence. Tell me… what do you think all these events are pointing toward?"
Mahishasur didn't hesitate. His voice was calm, but filled with quiet confidence.
"Yes, Your Majesty… this is no coincidence."
For a brief second, Takshak looked at him, slightly taken aback by his certainty.
Mahishasur continued,
"These events… they are all connected to the prophecy."
Takshak immediately snapped, irritation flashing across his face.
"You fool! The prophecy is bound to unfold anyway—that's not the point! What you fail to understand is that these events show the half-gods have already begun their preparations. That cunning queen… she has started her game."
Mahishasur nodded calmly.
"Yes, Your Majesty, that is true. But another truth is that we have also begun our preparations… and even before them. This time, the balance will tilt in our favor."
Takshak raised his hand, cutting him off sharply.
"No… preparation alone is never enough. Never trust a single plan, you foolish demon. Start the game yourself. The second strategy of any game is to become an obstacle. Send our demons to Earth—create chaos. Keep them busy solving problems on Earth. Distract them."
He leaned forward, a sinister smile forming on his lips.
"And always remember… when attention wavers, even gods make mistakes. And those mistakes… will become the reason for our victory."
Mahishasur stood frozen for a moment, absorbing every word. Then suddenly, a spark lit up in his eyes.
"Brilliant, Your Majesty… absolutely brilliant! I will begin working on this plan immediately."
He turned and started to leave again.
But once more, Takshak's voice stopped him.
"And this time… show no mercy to humans. The half-gods must be forced to spend all their time saving them. Do you understand? And one more thing… continue the search for that child. If we find him… victory will be ours."
Mahishasur bowed deeply, accepting the command, and walked out of the hall.
Takshak watched him leave… but this time, his gaze wasn't just observant—it was suspicious. His eyes narrowed slightly as he sank deeper into thought, as if something about Mahishasur's words or demeanor didn't sit right with him.
Meanwhile, in the human world, there were people who were secretly celebrating.
Some were happy about Bali and Singhania's deaths. After all, there were many in the underworld who had long desired Bali's position.
But among them, one man stood out.
Kamal Thakur.
The same Kamal Thakur whom Singhania had humiliated in the hospital, stripping him of his pride in front of others. Since that day, Kamal had burned with a single desire—revenge.
So when he heard the news that Singhania had died in a car accident, a twisted satisfaction spread across his face.
And fate… seemed to favor him.
No one knew who had killed Singhania or the underworld king Bali.
And Kamal saw an opportunity.
Grabbing it without hesitation, he began spreading the word—claiming responsibility for both their deaths.
He understood the power of rumors better than most.
Quietly, strategically, he paid people to circulate the story across the underworld—that he had orchestrated their deaths with a flawless plan. The whispers spread like wildfire… and before long, people began to believe it.
After all, the incidents had occurred within the boundaries of Pratapgarh.
And in that city, after Singhania… the most powerful name was the Thakur family.
Kamal's move worked perfectly.
The reputation of the Thakur family skyrocketed, and Kamal finally began receiving the respect he had always craved.
And now… intoxicated by power, illusion, and his rising fearsome image—
Kamal Thakur was celebrating.
A grand party, filled with laughter, drinks, and music… while somewhere in the shadows, a much bigger storm was silently gathering.