Midnight.
The door creaked open slowly.
King stepped inside, tilting a beer bottle to his lips, finishing it in one long gulp. His throat moved as he swallowed the last drop.
"Ahh…"
He exhaled deeply, tossing the empty bottle aside. It hit the wall and rolled across the cracked floor.
The room was a mess—barely livable. A broken bed sagged in the corner, its springs exposed. Damaged furniture leaned against stained walls. A small TV flickered weakly, casting unstable light across the room. The kitchen in the corner smelled of oil and neglect.
King dropped onto the bed, stretching his arms lazily behind his head, satisfied.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
"Don't rest."
The voice crawled into his mind.
Low. Heavy. Inhuman.
"I gave you the task of killing the Supreme King Mudra user."
King's expression tightened instantly. His jaw clenched as irritation flickered in his eyes.
"Shut the fuck up," he snapped, sitting up halfway. "I'll handle him easily. Didn't you see what I did at the police station?"
A pause.
Then laughter exploded inside his head.
"Bwahahaha… hahaha…!"
King's face darkened. Veins rose along his neck as he grabbed his Mudra and hurled it at the wall.
Clang.
"Don't laugh at me!" he shouted, breathing heavier now. "I am stronger than any Mudra user!"
The voice returned—mocking, amused.
"You are using a cheap copy of the Supreme King Mudra that I created."
King froze.
"You cannot defeat the original."
His fingers twitched slightly.
"You need to defeat him before he gains the full power of the Thirty-Two Heavenly Queens. You must obtain the powers of my children—the Seven Princes of Hell."
A brief pause.
"You managed to make one of them angry enough to grant you power… but that is not enough."
King slowly sat upright, wiping sweat from his forehead, his irritation now mixing with unease.
"What do you mean?" he asked, voice lower.
"You need power from one more Prince of Hell."
Silence fell again.
King nodded slowly, processing it.
Then he stood up and began pacing the room.
"You know…" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "If my parents had survived that bomb blast…"
His voice softened slightly.
"I would've had a proper house. A normal life."
His lips curled bitterly.
"I wouldn't have needed to do this job for you."
He let out a dry laugh.
"But we can't blame them… right?"
His eyes darkened.
"In that condition… my friends should have helped me."
His fists clenched.
"But they didn't."
A pause.
Then something colder surfaced.
"My childhood friend…"
His breathing slowed.
"She was supposed to help me."
His voice cracked—but not from sadness.
From anger.
"I could've become something big… something famous."
His expression twisted.
"But no."
"She didn't care."
A long silence.
Then—
"I need to confront that bitch."
His eyes burned with obsession.
Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room.
Marine Drive — Midnight
The wind carried the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
A bike slowed near the empty road.
Aditi tightened her arms around Nikhil's waist, resting her chin lightly on his shoulder.
"My parents are going to kill me," she said softly, laughing. "I'm so late… but it feels good being with you."
Nikhil smiled nervously, glancing at her.
"You know, Aditi… um…"
He hesitated.
"It's been a week since we last kissed."
Aditi raised an eyebrow, a playful smile forming on her lips.
"Oh? So my sweet words aren't enough for you?"
Nikhil scratched his neck awkwardly.
"That's not it… it's just…"
She laughed—warm, teasing.
"You're such a cutie. How can I deny you?"
She reached forward and pulled his cheek gently.
He smiled.
Then slowly stopped the bike.
The world around them grew quiet.
They stood facing each other.
Eyes locked.
They leaned closer—
"Aditi!"
The voice shattered the moment.
Both turned.
A figure approached from the shadows.
Aditi blinked in surprise.
"…King?"
He stepped forward, a casual smile on his face.
"Hey. Long time."
Nikhil frowned slightly.
Aditi relaxed a bit.
"Yeah… it has been a while. What are you doing these days?"
"Nothing much," King replied lightly. "Just regular work."
Aditi nodded.
"Oh well… good to see you. We should go."
She gave him a quick, friendly hug.
Then stepped back.
"See you."
She turned toward Nikhil—
But suddenly—
Her wrist was grabbed.
Tight.
Too tight.
Her expression shifted instantly.
"Hey—leave my hand!"
Nikhil stepped forward, placing a firm hand on King's shoulder.
"Don't you get it? She's my girlfriend. Let go… or I'll beat the shit out of you."
For a moment—
King said nothing.
Then slowly—
He released her hand.
Aditi moved behind Nikhil, gripping his arm nervously.
But suddenly—
King moved.
Fast.
CRACK.
Nikhil's arm bent unnaturally as his bones shattered.
"AAHHH!"
He collapsed to the ground screaming.
Aditi's eyes widened in horror.
"STOP!"
She rushed forward—
But King shoved her aside effortlessly.
She fell hard onto the road.
King sat on Nikhil's chest.
And started punching.
Again.
Again.
Again.
"You came between us!"
Blood splattered across his hands.
"Aditi is mine!"
Another punch.
"That kiss was mine!"
Another.
"She's mine! She's mine!"
Nikhil's face became unrecognizable.
Aditi broke down, screaming uncontrollably.
"Why are you doing this?! What's wrong with you?!"
King stopped.
Breathing heavily.
Chest rising and falling.
But he said nothing.
He stood up slowly.
Walked toward Aditi.
And grabbed her face gently.
Too gently.
He poured alcohol into her mouth.
She choked immediately, trying to pull away.
"Don't drink!" he said softly.
"Don't drink, I said."
She froze.
Trembling.
Tears streamed down her face.
The liquid stayed in her mouth.
"Close your eyes… my love."
His voice turned calm.
Affectionate.
She hesitated—
Then obeyed.
Trust.
Fear.
Confusion.
All mixed together.
King smiled.
Then—
Flame.
Her body jerked violently.
Her hands clawed at him desperately—
But he held her mouth shut.
Tighter.
Stronger.
Her muffled screams died slowly.
Her body weakened.
Then—
Stillness.
Silence.
King stared at her for a few seconds.
Then wiped fake tears from his eyes.
"My love…"
His voice trembled.
"Why didn't I get you first?"
He pulled her lifeless body into an embrace—
And began crying.
Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains, faint and lazy, barely touching the cluttered room.
"Vikram! Wake up or you will be late for college!"
Anu's voice rang from outside, sharp enough to pierce through sleep.
Under the blanket, Vikram groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. His body refused to move. Just five more minutes…
Slowly, he cracked his eyes open—
—and froze.
Power's face hovered inches away from his, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Morning, sleepyhead," she whispered, before lightly kissing his nose.
For a split second, his brain stopped working.
Then—
"WHAT THE—?!"
Vikram jolted upright, nearly tripping over his own blanket as he scrambled backward, his face turning bright red.
Power simply watched him, lying comfortably on the bed, smiling like she had just won a game.
Vikram pointed at her, his finger trembling slightly.
"You—you can't do that! That's dangerous for my heart!"
She tilted her head innocently, propping herself up on her elbows, her chin resting on her palms.
"I can keep that heart safe for you," she teased. "If you're scared… give me the knife."
Vikram's ears turned red this time.
"You're weird."
He grabbed a towel and rushed out of the room before she could say anything else.
Inside Mayasabha, Power reappeared in her chamber, the illusionary winds gently playing with her hair as she smiled to herself.
After his bath, Vikram sat at the dining table, still slightly flustered.
The smell of fresh poha filled the air.
His mother placed the plate in front of him while adjusting her gym gloves.
"Bye, you two. I'm going to the gym. If you want anything, get it from the kitchen."
The door shut behind her.
Silence.
Vikram picked up a spoon.
He could feel it—his father's gaze.
Slowly, he looked up.
His father had lowered the newspaper and was staring directly at him.
"…What?" Vikram asked cautiously.
His father folded the newspaper neatly and placed it aside.
"I called your friends yesterday," he said calmly.
Vikram's grip on the spoon tightened.
"They said there was no college trip."
A pause.
"So," his father leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing, "when you said you were on a college trip… where were you?"
Vikram swallowed.
A nervous smile crept onto his face.
"Actually… I just wanted to see the Red Fort, so I went alone."
His father stared at him for a moment… then sighed.
"Next time," he said, picking up the newspaper again, "prepare a better lie."
Vikram blinked.
"If your mother finds out, she'll spank you like a little kid."
"…Noted."
Grabbing his plate, Vikram quietly retreated to his room.
"Hey, Power."
The moment the words left his mouth—
She appeared.
Just like that.
Standing right in front of him.
"I thought you might be hungry," he said, placing the plate forward.
For a second, she actually looked surprised.
"Oh my…" she said softly, eyes widening a little. "The others are going to be jealous of me if you treat me this well."
She took the plate and began eating, completely at ease.
Vikram pulled a chair and sat across from her, watching curiously.
"So… when you said you gave me power… what exactly did you give me?"
She pointed her spoon at him mid-bite.
"Nothing flashy like spells," she said, chewing. "I gave you Vajra bones—the same ones used to forge Indra Dev's weapon."
Vikram's eyes lit up instantly.
"My bones… are Vajra?"
He stared at his hands like they had suddenly become legendary artifacts.
"Try breaking something," she said casually, still eating.
He laughed nervously.
"Let me not destroy the house first—"
"Do it."
She gave him a thumbs-up.
"…Alright."
Vikram stood in front of the wall, took a breath, then looked back at her.
She nodded.
He clenched his fist—
—and punched.
CRACK.
A hole formed in the wall.
For one glorious second, he felt unstoppable.
Then—
"OH FUCK!"
He grabbed his hand, shaking it wildly as pain shot up his arm.
Power looked at him… then at the wall… then back at him.
Without saying a word—
She stood up and casually punched the wall beside his hole.
BOOM.
A larger crack spread effortlessly.
She dusted her hands.
"Even if your strength increases," she said calmly, "your endurance and stamina don't magically improve."
Vikram stared at her, holding his throbbing hand.
"…That's unfair."
The door creaked open behind him.
"What was that sound?"
Both of them froze.
Vikram slowly turned.
His father stood there.
His eyes moved—from Vikram…
…to his injured hand…
…to the hole in the wall…
…and finally—
—to Power.
Sitting casually on the bed.
Eating poha.
Dressed in a crimson lehenga, her mehendi-covered hands moving gracefully.
Beautiful enough to not belong in reality.
Silence filled the room.
His father slowly stepped back.
Closed the door.
Then, from outside—
"Now I understand why you went to Delhi alone."
Click.
The sound of a belt unbuckling echoed.
Vikram's soul left his body.
"…I can explain."
No response.
Just footsteps.
Fast ones.
Vikram turned pale.
Then ran.
"COME HERE!" his father shouted from outside.
"WAIT! SORRY! I CAN EXPLAIN—!"
He ran in circles around the room while his father chased him with the belt.
Meanwhile—
Power sat on the bed.
Laughing uncontrollably.
Elsewhere…
Inside a dim room, King stood still.
A faint pulse came from his Mudra.
A new voice echoed—smooth, cold… satisfied.
"That was a beautiful performance."
King's lips curved slightly.
"Killing your little crush and her lover out of envy… I am proud of you."
This voice was different.
Not rage.
Not Kali.
Something sharper.
"I grant you my blessing."
A dark aura flickered around the Mudra.
"The power of Envy."
King's eyes gleamed.
"You will now copy the abilities and fighting styles of others."
Silence.
Then—
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"…Perfect."
He stepped out of the room.