Old Dabba...
Before one of the terrorists could take the weapons package from the table, a sharp shuriken —
glowing with neon blue and red edges —
sliced through the air and struck the centre of the crate with a thunk.
Swish~ Thunk~
The room fell silent.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Everyone's eyes darted to the weapon, now pinned by the shuriken.
On it, in glowing etched letters, were the initials: K.N.
"What the hell is this?"
One of the men muttered, raising his weapon.
Zarak narrowed his eyes, confused.
"Who did this?"
He barked, scanning the dim room.
"Check the windows!"
But before anyone could move, another shuriken shot through the air —
This one is crashing into the old ceiling light.
Swish~ Thud~
Sparks flew as the fixture shattered, and the room was plunged into near-total darkness.
Panic set in.
"Phones! Use your lights!"
Someone yelled.
Flashlights from phones flickered on, waving back and forth, cutting through the shadows —
But all they saw were their own panicked faces and crates of weapons.
"Is this the cops? NIA?"
"No way, they wouldn't pull off a stunt like this!"
Zarak clenched his fists.
"This isn't the police… It's something else."
He picked up the shuriken and examined the glowing initials.
"K.N.… Who the hell is that?"
No one answered.
No one knew.
But one thing was clear —
Someone was here, and they were watching.
And they were skilled enough to infiltrate without being seen… to strike without a trace.
Whoever K.N. was, they weren't here for negotiations.
Suddenly, from the darkest corner of the room, two piercing blue eyes flared open —
Like twin orbs of cold fire, glowing in the shadows.
Before anyone could react,
A fist flew out of the darkness, connecting squarely with the side of one man's face.
A sickening crack echoed through the room as his head was slammed sideways,
Crashing into the table with such force that the wood splintered and snapped in half.
Crash~
The man's legs lifted off the ground from the impact before his crumpled body dropped limply to the floor, groaning in agony —
Clearly out of the fight.
"W-What the—?!"
"Over there! Flash the lights!"
But by the time their flashlights turned toward the scene, the shadow was gone.
Not a single trace remained of the one who had struck.
Only the man writhing in pain remained, surrounded by the shards of the broken table.
"Who the hell is this guy!?"
"He just—he just disappeared!"
Zarak took a cautious step back, eyes darting around the room.
His voice was tense now.
"This isn't some street rat or soldier… this is something else…"
As panic began to ripple through the room, everyone frantically swung their flashlights in all directions, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.
Then suddenly—
"Aaargh!"
One of the men screamed and collapsed, his flashlight clattering across the floor.
Before anyone could react—
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
Three more dropped like puppets with their strings cut, their weapons slipping from their hands as their bodies went limp.
"W-What's going on?!"
One of the more cautious men,
Heart pounding in his chest, he crept toward the nearest fallen body and knelt down.
Swallowing hard, he gently rolled the man onto his side.
His eyes widened in horror.
A sleek, dark dart was embedded in the man's neck, its base adorned with a delicate green feather, unmistakably crafted.
"It's… a tranquiliser?"
"No. Worse,"
Someone muttered.
Zarak narrowed his eyes.
"____"
"That's not just any dart…"
The cautious man looked closer —
Printed along the dart's base were tiny coded letters and a symbol of a fang.
"Succinylcholine,"
He said, trembling.
"A powerful paralytic. They're alive… but completely immobilised."
A heavy silence fell upon the room as realisation dawned.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Whoever this attacker was, they weren't just skilled.
They were prepared.
Methodical. And terrifyingly precise.
A ghost in the dark.
Zarak clenched his fists.
"This isn't a random attack. They came here clearly prepared."
Suddenly, the room filled with a low, distorted chuckle.
Chuckle~
It echoed from the walls, from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Then a whisper followed—
cold, deliberate:
"Four down. Twenty-six to go."
And just like that, the light flickered again.
With a final flicker, the lights surged back on—
And there he stood.
Right in the centre of the chaos, between the scattered crates and fallen men, a lone figure faced them.
Clad in a black vigilante suit,
Edged with deep crimson borders that seemed to shimmer with an eerie glow under the flickering fluorescent light,
His silhouette was as striking as it was unsettling.
A flowing cape draped behind him, and across the chest, emblazoned in bold silver and red embroidery, was the unmistakable symbol:
"KN"
His face was concealed beneath a shadowed hood, and a sleek black mask covered the lower half of his face.
But it was the eyes that stole everyone's breath.
Two glowing, electric-blue eyes stared unblinking at the crowd of stunned men.
The room froze.
Not a breath.
Not a whisper.
The gang members were confused—
This looked like something straight out of a comic book.
A hero? A nutcase?
They had no idea.
They have heard about heroes saving the public and vanishing like they never existed, but this was the first time they had come face to face with one.
But Zarak did.
His eyes widened with a jolt of recognition—
Not of the man beneath the hood, but of what he represented.
This wasn't just some vigilante.
This was Bramansh's protocol.
A very specific kind of protocol.
"Shit…"
Zarak muttered under his breath, stepping back instinctively.
"That's not a hero costume… He is Bramanash."
A few of the terrorists glanced at him in confusion, guns still half-raised.
"Y-you know this guy?"
One of them asked nervously.
Zarak's voice was low, sharp, almost like he was talking to himself.
"He's not with the government. Not with any legal body. He's something worse."
He licked his lips nervously.
His past in the shadows of the Bramansh world whispered back to him.
"He's a sector guardian. A ghost meant to protect the balance… and we just kicked the hornet's nest."
Kaal-Nayan didn't move.
Not yet.
Flutter~ Flutter~
But the way his cape swayed ever so slightly and the subtle shift in his stance screamed one thing:
He was about to strike again.
And this time, he wasn't going to leave many standing.
The Highland Leaf –
Surveillance Room...
Inside a dimly lit room tucked behind Rudra's office,
Hidden behind the angel portrait, the atmosphere was tense but focused.
Multiple monitors flickered, each showing different angles of the old dabba from cleverly hidden surveillance cameras Rudra had planted earlier.
Their feeds displayed grainy but steady footage of the chaos unfolding.
On screen, the vigilante form of Rudra Kaal-Nayan stood tall and still, a symbol of impending judgment.
Junoo leaned forward, wide-eyed.
"Holy crap… that entrance was cold. I didn't know Rudra was planning something this dramatic."
Amirtha, arms crossed but with a proud little smile tugging at the corner of her lips, replied,
"He told me he needed something intimidating. Something that would make his enemies think twice. Guess it's working."
Guru Arvind nodded, a flicker of approval in his usually unreadable expression.
Nod~
"He planted the cameras ahead of time. Good. He's thinking like a proper field agent now. Silent, tactical, and layered."
Shiva, sitting with one leg on the console, couldn't hide his grin.
"I didn't know Rudra had this flair in him. That landing… Those glowing eyes? He's channelling pure myth right now."
Ravi, munching on a snack he snuck in, pointed to the screen.
"Do you see that one guy shaking so hard he's about to drop his gun? Rudra didn't even need to touch him yet."
Sandeep, voice serious, chimed in,
"They're all confused… but Zarak, he knows. That guy's face says it all. He's rattled."
The camera zoomed in slightly on Zarak's pale expression as he whispered about Bramansh hunters.
Amirtha tapped a control panel, changing the view to a thermal overlay.
"Rudra's right in the middle of it all… but see how he's moving? Hitting pressure points, disabling them silently. He's not just fighting—he's calculating."
Guru Arvind nodded again, slower this time.
Nod~
"Good. That's the kind of presence a guardian needs to carry. Unseen but unforgettable."
Everyone watched in silence for a few moments as another dart hit a target, the man collapsing wordlessly.
Then Junoo spoke softly.
"Let's just hope none of them have backup coming. Because if they do… this show might turn into a serious fight."
Amirtha's eyes didn't leave the monitor as she replied,
"If that happens... then Kaal-Nayan will make them wish they hadn't come."
Old Dabba –
Dimly Lit Interior...
The tension in the air was thick as smoke.
The blinking ceiling light gave off a rhythmic flicker, throwing shadows across the cracked walls and the old tables.
Zarak, eyes gleaming with malice, slowly slipped his hand into the pocket of his cargo pants.
His fingers curled around something—
A contingency, always ready.
A glint of anticipation sparked in his eyes.
He muttered with a crooked smirk,
Smirk~
"So… they finally sent someone to replace him."
He turned toward the figure standing dead still in the centre of the room—
Kaal-Nayan.
The black and red vigilante costume gave off an intimidating aura,
But it was the glowing blue eyes, silently watching, unblinking, that chilled even the hardened criminals.
Zarak's voice rose, confident and mocking,
"Tell me, are you in charge of the new sector? Did those stupid old fools from the inner council really think this would be enough to keep Ooty in check?"
The men around him tightened their grips on their guns—
26 armed men, all pointing at one man.
Zarak laughed, the sound bitter and triumphant.
Haha~
"You know, the last guy? Gaja? He was my senior. Strong, righteous, noble—everything a fool needs to die poor."
He spat to the side, then raised his voice, for all to hear.
"I betrayed him. Planted the explosives myself. Watched as he burned for his loyalty. And what did I get? Wealth. Power. A piece of every deal in this sector."
Zarak pointed a cocky finger at the motionless figure in front of him.
"You'll end up the same way—just another idealist who thinks hero costumes can stop bullets."
The silence lingered… until a cold, deep voice finally responded.
"____"
"Kaal-Nayan,"
The figure said, voice calm but carrying a weight that silenced the room.
"That's the name you'll remember… if you survive this night."
Zarak's smirk faltered for half a second.
Smirk~
"Fancy name,"
He said, regaining his bravado, though a bead of sweat betrayed him.
"Let's see how long it lasts when your blood's on this floor."
Zarak's subtle hand signal was clear.
A twitch of his fingers.
A nod of his head.
Nod~
"____"
Twenty-six fingers pulled twenty-six triggers.
But—
Nothing happened.
Clack. Click.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Dead silence.
Just before the bullets could even be fired, a burst of golden light exploded from the centre of the room.
It was like a sonic shockwave, but instead of sound, it carried power.
Pure Astra energy, ancient and divine, pulsed from Kaal-Nayan like a heartbeat from the heavens.
The air shimmered.
The room trembled.
The aura passed through everyone in the room—
Through their bodies, their weapons, their nerves—
And vanished.
But its effect remained.
Every gun in the room glitched.
Triggers jammed.
Chambers locked.
Safety systems activated on their own.
It was as if the very spirit of the weapons had been snuffed out.
Panic swept across the room.
"What the—!?"
"My gun won't fire!"
"Is it some kind of EMP?"
"No… no, this is something else—!"
Zarak stood frozen, his smirk fading into a scowl.
He could feel it—
That aura.
He'd never sensed it before, but deep in his bones, he knew this wasn't ordinary.
This wasn't a machine trick, nor some flashy spell.
This was Astra—
And not just any Astra.
Something different.
Something raw.
Something… untamed.
Zarak's eyes widened, his pupils dilating slightly.
"T-this… this Astra…"
He clenched his fists, heart pounding with a new feeling—
Not fear, not awe, but greed.
"That power…"
He murmured,
"...if I can get my hands on that… I'll be unstoppable."
His mind raced.
He didn't know what kind of Astra this was.
But incomplete or not—
It had potential.
If he could take it, bend it, make it his...
Zarak's ambition ignited.
And across from him, Kaal-Nayan stood still.
The golden aura faded back into his body, his blue glowing eyes fixated on Zarak without a word.
Smoke and tension clung to the air.
Zarak narrowed his eyes, taking a half-step back toward the shadows near the wall.
He wasn't going to rush in—
Not yet.
His deep voice cut through the silence like a blade:
"If the guns don't work… cut him down."
A storm of sound followed.
Clang. Click.
Shing.
"____"
"____"
The unmistakable ring of blades being unsheathed, iron rods clanging together, and steel chains unfurling filled the room.
Zarak's men—
Twenty-six left—
Formed a rough circle, snarling like a pack of wolves.
Their hands now gripped an assortment of kukris, daggers, folding knives, hammers, and rusty iron pipes scavenged from the underworld.
They rushed in—
All at once—
From every direction.
But Kaal-Nayan didn't flinch.
Thud.
His cloak fluttered slightly as he took a single, calm step forward.
The faint crimson edge of his cape shimmered under the weak light.
The attackers were mere feet away.
And then—
He moved.
Like a blur of shadows and precision.
A sweeping spin knocked aside the first attacker's machete with the sharp edge of his arm gauntlet.
Kaal-Nayan ducked low, sweeping another man's legs from under him, sending him crashing onto two more with brutal force.
A blade aimed for his back was caught mid-air with two fingers—
SNAP—
The wrist of the attacker twisted unnaturally.
An iron pipe came swinging toward his temple.
SWISH—
He leaned just an inch, letting it pass, then drove his elbow into the attacker's ribs with a sickening CRACK.
CRACK—
Each motion was a combination of efficiency, brutality, and flow, like a dancer of death trained in instinctive combat.
[DING...]
[Combat Skill: Instinctive Awareness – Level 2 Activated.]
His body moved before he thought.
His eyes tracked six at once.
His mind measured angles, gaps, and threats.
He was no longer just Rudra.
He was Kaal-Nayan—
The shadow that strikes before you're aware you're in danger.
Zarak watched from the back, his lips twitching in frustration.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
One man—
One damn man—
He was tearing through his entire crew.
Not using his Astra Zarak stayed behind to gauge the power of the Astra Kaal-Nayan was using before making his move.
Yet even as he watched the blade of his most trusted man snap against Kaal-Nayan's armour, Zarak's mind was still working.
No, it's not just Armour.
The Astra's power acts defensively to protect its wielder.
He didn't join the fight.
No, not yet.
"Let them bleed him out first."
He muttered.
"Let him burn his stamina. Then I'll claim that Astra…"
But deep inside… a small, cold chill crept down Zarak's spine.
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone!!!
Which will motivate me more?