In the dim glow of the meditation hall of Ashram, Shourya stood frozen, one hand pressed against the stone pillar beside him. The message he had just heard from Mukhi still echoed violently in his mind.
"It… it can't be," Shourya whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and anger. "We were fooled. Someone tricked us."
Mukhi stood opposite him, equally shaken, worry etched deep across his face.
"We have to do something," Mukhi said urgently. "They are strong… but not strong enough to face Kroor. No one is."
Shourya clenched his fists. His mind raced with the memory of the reading: Vargh 27,573.
Kroor — a Narvan whose very existence was considered a calamity.
"Right," Shourya said sharply. "I'll call Lioran."
He dialed at once.
The call didn't ring. It didn't even attempt to connect.
Disconnected.
"What?" Shourya muttered. He tried again. And again. Each time the call dropped instantly.
Mukhi grabbed his own phone. "Let me call Sharin."
Shourya nodded. "I'll try Aishwarya."
Within moments both men stared at their phones.
"No response," Mukhi said, his voice cracking.
"Not even a signal," Shourya muttered. His hands trembled. "What do we do now…?"
The hall felt smaller, the air heavier.
Shourya's breathing turned uneven. His mind dragged him back — back to the faces of the students he once trained with pride… the ones who never returned from their missions. Their screams, their final moments, the helplessness he felt—
"No." His voice broke. "Not again. I won't allow it again. I can't lose another student. Not them…"
Mukhi stepped forward and gripped Shourya's shoulders. "Master. Please. You can't fall now. They need you."
"But Goa is far," Shourya said. His eyes were far away, drowning in old grief. "Even if we leave right now… we won't reach in time. And Kroor— Kroor appearing means—"
"Master," Mukhi interrupted gently. "You are the greatest Prāṇa warrior we know. If anyone can find a way… it's you."
Shourya stared into the distance — and a spark lit in his eyes.
He turned sharply. "Mukhi… where is Skanda right now?"
Mukhi thought for a moment. "He said he finished his mission in Maharashtra. He's returning tomorrow."
"Call him," Shourya said immediately. "If there's anyone who can reach Goa fast enough… it's Skanda."
Mukhi dialed.
The full moon hung high over the black waters. Waves shimmered under the pale glow, washing gently across the rocky shore.
A lone man sat on a stone chair overlooking the ocean.
His mask was the strangest thing — half of it resembled a angel, while the other half twisted into a demonic grin. The duality was eerie and mesmerising.
He hummed softly. "What a beautiful night. A perfect night to relax."
His phone vibrated.
He picked it up. "Hello, Master Shourya. What happened? You don't usually call like this."
"Skanda," Shourya's voice came through — strained, urgent. "Are you still in Maharashtra?"
"Yeah," Skanda replied, leaning back. "Just chilling at the beach. Why?"
Shourya quickly explained everything — the false report, the death of the researchers, and finally, the reveal of Kroor.
Skanda didn't interrupt. He sat silently, listening, the moonlight reflecting off the demonic half of his mask.
"I see," Skanda finally said. "Alright, Master. Don't worry. I'll be there… in a few minutes."
"A few—? Yes. I'm sending you coordinates," Shourya said quickly. His voice softened. "Skanda… please. I can't lose another student. Not them."
Skanda exhaled softly. "Yeah. Leave it to me."
He ended the call.
For a moment, he sat still — the ocean breeze tugging lightly at his cloak.
Then he stood.
"I guess we never get to chill under this beautiful night." he said with a half-smile beneath the mask.
He raised his right hand.
Prāṇa surged around his arm, swirling like liquid light.
"Dimension Break."
The air tore open.
Space and time cracked, splitting like fragile glass. A shimmering portal formed — its edges writhing with violet and white energy.
Skanda stepped into the breach.
"Let's go."
The portal snapped shut behind him.
The abandoned industrial complex floated like a broken island in a sea of endless black. Walls drifted like ghosts. Floors twisted unnaturally as if held together by invisible threads.
Inside one of the ruined halls, Lioran stood near the fragmented doorway, staring into the nothingness.
"This isn't right," he said, voice tense. "This whole place… suddenly dropped into a black void. And we can't find a single way out."
Aishwarya rubbed her arms, trying to shake off the chilling sensation crawling up her spine. "Narvans have weird abilities, but… teleporting an entire building to a different dimension? That's insane."
"Besides," Sharin added, "the Narvan we killed had a Vargh level under 10,000. No way it can do something like this."
Lioran nodded. "Exactly. Which means something else is going on."
Silence followed.
"I think we have to wait until someone from the ashram comes to rescue us." Aishwarya said.
"But…" Sharin hesitated. "Will the Ashram even know where we are?"
"We can't rely on that," Lioran said firmly. "We don't stay still."
Aishwarya nodded slowly. "Right."
Lioran finally straightened. "We should search again. There must be an exit. Something we missed."
They gathered themselves and took their first step—
And stopped immediately.
A crushing pressure descended upon them — a cold, ancient weight that seeped into their bones.
Aishwarya gasped. "What… what is this force…?"
"It's like something is grabbing my spine…" Sharin murmured, struggling to breathe.
Lioran felt his heartbeat spike. A dark, suffocating presence pressed down on him, freezing his limbs. His Prāṇa reacted instinctively, flaring weakly against the unseen force.
He swallowed. "Something… is here."
The air shifted behind them.
All three slowly turned.
Nothing.
Empty corridor. Floating debris. Infinite void.
But the feeling remained — like eyes crawling over their skin.
Then—
A sound.
A faint, wet, dragging noise.
Like something crawling… breathing… waiting.
Aishwarya's hands trembled. "Someone… something is watching us."
Sharin's voice died in his throat. "It's close…"
The shadows thickened.
And then — in one horrifying instant —
It appeared.
A creature materialized from the darkness behind them.
Tall. Twisted. Blacker than the void itself.
Its limbs were thin but impossibly long, each ending in sharp, dripping talons.
Its face was nothing but a gaping mouth filled with serrated teeth, and from its back sprouted writhing tendrils like living shadows.
Its aura — a monstrous surge of malevolent Prāṇa — slammed into them, freezing their bodies in place.
Lioran's breath hitched. His blood went cold.
This wasn't like the Narvan they fought earlier.
This was something else. Something older. Something more dangerous.
His voice escaped in a whisper.
"Is… this the end?"
The creature's jaw widened, stretching as if to swallow the darkness itself.
The void pulsed.
The nightmare leaned closer.
And everything went silent.
TO BE CONTINUED…