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- Aryan's Chamber, Kamal Aasthaan -
- January 10, 1940 -
The massive screen on the wall glowed with vivid colours, its smooth edges blending perfectly into the carved wooden panels that framed it. Aryan lounged back on a wide sofa that was half royal luxury, half modern comfort. The golden embroidery of the cushions caught the light of the lamps, while the hum of the PS5 filled the room. His thumbs danced across the controller, eyes fixed on the game he had once loved in his previous life.
There was something deeply satisfying about this—the chance to recreate a fragment of the world he'd lost. A game, a console, the sound of digital music flooding through surround speakers. A cold glass of cola on the side table. A plate of chips within arm's reach. For a few precious hours, the weight of a crown and an empire dissolved into pixels and laughter.
Still, even while playing, his thoughts never truly left his responsibilities. In the past few days, Aryan had been busy—not physically, but through the countless Parallel Existences he had carefully stationed across Bharat. One oversaw the ministries, keeping the rhythm of governance smooth and untangled. Another handled the army and defence networks, ensuring strength without paranoia. A third watched over resources, quietly correcting shortages before they could ever hamper progress—reshaping minerals, metals, and fuel into existence when required.
Beyond them, Aryan had birthed a new kind of helper: a spectral being, bound to his will, that wandered among the people. It whispered to the good and hardworking, granting their simple wishes—an extra bag of rice for a struggling family, healing for a farmer's injured cow, warmth in a widow's hearth. Mundane miracles, but to those who received them, life itself changed.
The world responded. Across Bharat, roads stretched faster, hospitals rose sturdier, schools filled with new voices. The Hidden Flame worked in plain sight now, infused with powers Aryan himself had granted, guiding projects like tireless guardians. Even supernatural beings—the once-feared prets and vetals—were folded into his vision, turned from whispers of dread into strange but reliable allies.
The nation pulsed with energy, an unstoppable surge of growth. And in the middle of it all, its Samrat sat in his room, leaning sideways with a chip between his teeth, swearing softly at the screen when his in-game character failed to make a jump.
It was at that moment Vaani appeared, her voice warm and faintly amused.
"Aryan," she said, her form glowing faintly in the corner, "Shakti has returned. She's on her way here."
He groaned, tilting his head back dramatically against the sofa. "Can I not have one evening where I'm not dragged away from my peace?"
Vaani's smile was patient. "Perhaps. But if you don't want her to drag you back outside, I suggest you clean this room. Right now."
Aryan's eyes narrowed at her. He turned to glance at the half-empty chip packet, the cola glass with condensation dripping down its side, the controller wires snaking across the carpet, and the cushions thrown haphazardly everywhere. It looked less like the chamber of a Samrat and more like the hideout of a college recluse.
Before he could move, the door handle clicked faintly. Aryan panicked—then immediately snapped his fingers. A wave of magic rippled through the room. In an instant, the crumbs vanished, the glasses polished themselves, the sofa straightened, and even the air seemed fresher. The massive screen blinked off, tucking the console into a hidden panel as though it had never been there.
The room gleamed like a page from a royal chronicle just as the door opened.
Shakti stepped in, her presence commanding yet graceful. Dressed in a deep blue sari that shimmered in the lamplight, her sharp eyes swept the room once, then landed on Aryan. She raised a brow.
"You've been hiding here again, haven't you?"
Aryan gave her his most innocent smile. "Hiding? No. Meditating."
From the corner, Vaani coughed softly into her hand, and Shakti's gaze flicked toward her. The two women exchanged a knowing look—an alliance forged in shared exasperation. The first time they met a few days ago, tension had crackled between them over who held Aryan's heart and soul more closely. But time and honesty had softened that. Now, they found common ground in a different pastime: nagging him together.
Shakti crossed her arms. "You've been working through your parallel existences, yes, but don't think that excuses you. You can't spend all your time as Samrat through them while you… laze around in here."
Aryan straightened, hands raised in surrender. "It's called balance, Shakti. Work and Proper Relaxation. Both equally important."
She rolled her eyes but a small smile tugged at her lips. Vaani stepped closer, her translucent glow giving the room a gentle warmth.
"He has been diligent," Vaani admitted softly. "His parallel selves cover every sector. Bharat is thriving. But…" She glanced at Aryan meaningfully. "Perhaps too much comfort dulls the edge of a blade."
Aryan sighed. "I don't get a break even in my own room, do I?"
"No," Shakti and Vaani said together, their tones perfectly in sync.
For a moment, Aryan just looked at them, then let out a soft laugh. "Fine. Tomorrow. Tonight, though, I refuse to be scolded. Tonight, I am just… me."
Shakti shook her head, but this time she sat down beside him, her expression softening. "One evening. But only one."
Vaani lingered a moment longer, her gaze steady, before fading back into his soul's plane. The room grew quiet again, except for the faint hum of hidden consoles and the steady heartbeat of the palace's energy core far below.
Aryan leaned back, glancing sideways at Shakti. "You'd like the game too, you know. Want me to set up another controller?"
She looked at him with mock severity. "And have you gloat when you win? Not tonight. But perhaps… another time."
Aryan grinned. For all the weight of kingdoms and futures, for this brief stretch of hours, the world could wait.
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- Royal Dining Hall, Kamal Aasthaan -
- January 10,1940— Evening -
The long table gleamed with polished wood, its surface crowded with plates of steaming food. Aryan sat at one end, comfortably leaning back, while Shakti settled across from him. The servants had withdrawn, leaving them in a quiet bubble of privacy.
Their lunch had started with the usual casual talks—how the new gardens were shaping up, a few amusing stories from the palace staff, and Aryan teasing her about how she still preferred simple dal-chawal over the complicated royal dishes.
"Because it tastes like home," Shakti had retorted with a smile, spooning rice onto her plate. "Not everything needs to be drenched in twenty spices and gold flakes."
Aryan chuckled, breaking a piece of roti. "You sound like my mother. She said the same thing when the cooks tried to serve her a dish that looked more like jewelry than food."
Their laughter faded Into a companionable silence as they ate. Then Aryan leaned forward slightly, his eyes turning thoughtful.
"So… how's your control coming along? The Power Cosmic, I mean."
Shakti's smile faltered, and she sighed softly, setting down her spoon. "Slow," she admitted. "I've been studying the methods, like you told me. Trying to understand smoother control of energy flow, the mechanics of reality-bending, the limits of projection. It's… difficult. The power doesn't like to be boxed. Every step forward feels like I'm pushing against a tide."
Her gaze dropped briefly to her plate, but then lifted again, steady and determined. "Still, I know I'll get there. With everything you've taught me, and all the help you've given, I'm certain I'll reach Tier 5. Maybe soon."
Aryan nodded, his expression serious but proud. "You're already walking a path most would never dare. Don't belittle slow progress—it's still progress."
But even as he said it, his mind was already moving. He couldn't watch her struggle with the same trial-and-error path when he had the means to help.
"Wait a moment," he murmured, leaning back. His eyes half-closed as he opened the System interface in his mind. He scrolled quickly, past weapons and artifacts, until his gaze landed on something useful:
| Item: Codex of Cosmic Harmony |
| A comprehensive guide to the principles, manifestations, and harmonics of Power Cosmic manipulation. Not Tiered—classified as an educational construct. |
Perfect. It was immense in potential but technically not high in Tier. Which meant it fell under his free Meta Creation limit. Without hesitation, he purchased it.
The flood hit him Instantly.
A surge of memories, diagrams, layered theories, and entire treatises on cosmic energy spiraled into his mind. The feeling was overwhelming, like being drowned in stars. But Aryan's enhanced thought acceleration caught each fragment, sorted them, categorized them. Parallel thought streams broke the torrent into neat rivers of knowledge, and within moments, he had digested the codex whole.
When he opened his eyes again, Shakti was watching him curiously.
"Well?" she asked.
Aryan smiled faintly. "Close your eyes."
She did, trusting him completely. Aryan reached out—not physically, but through the corridor of their bond. With precise care, he shared what he had learned, passing the refined knowledge directly into her mind. It wasn't raw data overwhelming her senses—it was structured, gentle, like a teacher guiding a student's hand.
Shakti gasped softly, her body tensing, then slowly relaxing as the knowledge settled. Her breathing steadied, her posture straightened. Her eyes opened again, brighter than before. "That… that would've taken me years to understand on my own."
Aryan's grin widened. "Why waste years, when we can bend time itself?"
And he wasn't done. With a thought, he tapped deeper into Meta Creation. Energy flowed like ink across reality, forming skills from pure will.
| Skill Created: Perfect Energy Control |
| Allows flawless regulation of internal and external energy flow, preventing waste and backlash. |
| Skill Created: Unlimited Adaptation |
| Automatically adjusts the body, mind, and soul to new powers, environments, and challenges. |
He placed both Into her soul gently, as though handing over priceless jewels.
Shakti shivered as the power merged with her essence. She looked down at her hands, which now glowed faintly with starlit energy, perfectly still and obedient to her command. Her lips parted in awe. "Aryan… you just made the impossible feel simple."
Aryan leaned back with a shrug, though his eyes softened. "It's not simple. You still need to practice, to master what you've been given. But now, the path won't fight you—it'll open for you."
For a long moment, Shakti just stared at him, caught between wonder and affection. Then she smirked lightly, trying to mask the emotion bubbling inside.
"You know, if you keep spoiling me like this, one day I might actually catch up to you."
Aryan laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. "Good. I'd like the company at the top."
The table, once filled with silence, now seemed brighter, their shared meal carrying a new weight of possibility.
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