Two hours later…
The red light above the operation theater finally turns off.
The doors slide open with a soft mechanical sound.
A surgeon steps out, removing his gloves, a tired but satisfied smile on his face.
"Congratulations," he says warmly. "The surgery was successful. Your sister is fit and stable now."
For a moment—
Ansh can't speak.
Relief crashes into him all at once. His vision blurs. He quickly wipes his eyes, trying to hold himself together, and steps forward.
He grabs the surgeon's hand tightly.
"Thank you, doctor… thank you for saving my sister's life."
The surgeon chuckles lightly.
"Don't worry. Just doing my job."
Then, with a playful grin—
"Though… don't forget our extra fee."
Ansh smiles.
"Yeah… yeah. I'll give you that."
In one smooth motion—
He pulls out a silenced pistol.
Pfft.
The bullet pierces the surgeon's temple.
No scream.
No time to react.
The man's body goes limp instantly.
Before it can collapse, Ansh catches him, steady, controlled—almost practiced—and lowers him into a nearby chair, positioning him upright as if he's just resting.
Silence returns to the corridor.
From inside the operation theater, the faint sounds of equipment and voices continue. The other surgeons are still finishing the procedure.
Ansh stares at the dead body for a second.
No emotion.
Just calculation.
Then—
Footsteps.
A nurse turns the corner and freezes the moment she sees him.
Her eyes widen.
Before she can even gasp—
Ansh raises the gun.
"Don't move."
She stops.
Completely.
Her hand trembles.
A phone is still clutched in her grip.
Ansh notices.
Steps forward.
Snatches it.
"Sit."
She slowly lowers herself to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.
Ansh looks at the screen.
A message.
His eyes narrow as he reads.
"We made a mistake. We accidentally transplanted Anna's son's heart into Neha's body. Remove the heart immediately."
Everything inside him stops.
He reads the next line.
"Vyum has surrounded the hospital. He will arrive at any moment."
Ansh's face drains of color.
He rushes to the window.
Looks down.
Cars.
Dozens.
Men pouring in.
Weapons visible.
His grip tightens.
"What do I do now…?"
His voice is barely a whisper.
His thoughts spiral.
I thought everything was perfect.
Every step.
Every risk.
In the name of an undercover operation, he used SP Samradh's intel.
Infiltrated the network.
Even used government funds.
All for this.
"If this gets exposed…" he mutters.
"My career is finished."
He looks back at the operation theater.
"And I can't fight this many people…"
His fists clench.
For the first time—
He's cornered.
—
Within minutes—
The hospital falls.
Goons flood every floor.
Guns raised.
Patients dragged off beds.
Visitors forced to the ground.
Staff trembling.
Groups are formed.
Two or three armed men assigned to each.
Control.
Total.
Absolute.
Doors burst open across wards.
Private rooms invaded.
Even emergency surgeries—
Interrupted.
A doctor shouts in fury.
"Hey! What are you doing? Get out! This is a life-and-death situation!"
A goon tilts his head, amused.
"Oh really? I didn't know that."
Then—
Without hesitation—
They start stabbing.
Chaos erupts.
—
In one private ward—
Two armed men kick the door open.
"Hey! Nobody move!"
Silence—
Then—
BAM!
Both bodies fly backward.
Through the window.
Glass shatters as they crash outside.
The sound echoes across the building.
Other goons freeze.
Then rush in.
Inside—
A boy stretches lazily.
Cracks his neck.
Rolls his shoulders.
Yawns.
"Don't you guys have any manners?" he says casually.
"I was sleeping."
He looks at them.
Calm.
Almost bored.
"But I guess… a warm-up isn't bad."
The goons stare.
Shocked.
Vikram.
—
They charge.
Shouting.
Vikram steps forward.
One punch.
That's all it takes.
The force ripples outward—four, five men are sent flying, smashing into each other like ragdolls.
To his left—
A blade flashes.
A knife aimed at his ribs.
In an instant—
He jumps.
The blade slices empty air.
For a split second—
His feet touch the ceiling.
Then—
He pushes off.
Drives down.
His fist crashes into the attacker.
BOOM.
The impact shakes the room.
Bodies slam into walls.
Cracks spread across the floor beneath him.
Dust rises.
Vikram straightens slowly.
Eyes scanning.
"Power… this isn't normal."
—
Inside the Mayasabha—
Power's voice echoes calmly.
"They're attacking openly. That means multiple people here have awakened abilities."
A pause.
"Be careful."
—
Vikram nods.
Still in his hospital clothes—
He walks out into the corridor.
Gunmen spot him instantly.
"Hey! You little—"
Gunfire erupts.
Bullets tear through the hallway.
But—
He moves.
Too fast.
Every shot misses.
In a blink—
He's behind them.
A kick—
One man slams into the right wall.
Crack.
A spin—
Another is sent crashing into the left.
Both drop.
Unconscious.
—
Meanwhile—
Vyum enters the hospital.
Calm.
Measured.
A Remington 700 BDL rests on his shoulder.
Around him—
His men already control everything.
He walks to reception.
"Where is Neha?"
The receptionist trembles, fumbling through records.
"T–top floor…"
"They're performing the operation…"
Vyum's eyes narrow.
He turns.
Starts walking toward the stairs.
Phone in hand.
He dials.
—
Elsewhere—
Anna sits inside his car, just outside the airport.
The phone rings.
He answers.
"Hm. What's the news?"
Vyum speaks respectfully.
"Anna… we found the heart."
A pause.
"It's already inside someone."
No hesitation.
"Rip open their chest."
The call ends.
—
Vyum exhales.
"Let's go."
He continues upward.
Step by step.
As he climbs—
Bodies.
Everywhere.
Then—
A familiar sight.
A dead police officer.
Still holding a phone.
Vyum picks it up.
Checks the screen.
Last call—
SP Samradh.
Moments ago.
He rubs his temple.
"Why now…?"
A quiet sigh.
"This just got complicated."
He tosses the phone aside.
Without turning—
"You paid the nearby police station?"
"Yes, boss."
Vyum nods slightly.
"Good."
His grip tightens on the rifle.
"If Samradh comes…"
His voice drops.
"I'll settle Malle's debt."
A faint smirk.
"And put a hole in his head."
—
Top floor.
Operation theater.
The nurse trembles uncontrollably.
Ansh stands before her.
Blood on his hands.
Eyes cold.
"You came to warn them," he says. "You would've killed my sister."
"S–sorry…"
She can barely speak.
In an instant—
He grabs her hair.
Drags her.
To the window.
Without hesitation—
He throws her out.
Her scream fades into the distance.
Ansh doesn't watch.
He turns.
Locks the door.
Then moves fast.
Dragging furniture.
Chairs.
Sofa.
Anything heavy.
Scraping sounds fill the room as he builds a barricade.
His breathing grows heavier.
Sweat drips down his face.
Finally—
He stops.
The door is blocked.
For now.
He walks back.
Stands between the entrance—
And the operating table.
Behind him—
Neha lies unconscious.
Alive.
Breathing.
Because of him.
Because of everything he's done.
He tightens his grip on the gun.
Waits.
—
Third floor—
Suddenly—
Five bodies come crashing through a window.
They hit the ground outside with sickening force.
Vyum stops.
"What the hell…?"
He looks ahead.
And sees him.
Vikram.
Standing between the hostages and the armed men.
Unshaken.
Unmoved.
Vyum raises his rifle.
At the same time—
His right eye glows green.
A faint aura radiates outward.
—
Inside the Mayasabha—
Power's voice sharpens.
"He's a mana user. Not a mudra user."
"Be careful."
—
Vikram lowers his stance.
Focused.
Ready.
Vyum smirks.
Aims directly at him.
Vikram meets his gaze.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"You'll need more than a bullet to put a hole in me."
He cracks his knuckles.
Steps forward.
"But I only need a moment…"
His eyes sharpen.
"…to put sleep in yours."