Everything changed for the better after I met Master Krishna Deva Raya.
But one day even he left me—just like my parents did.
The memory hit Rudra like a sledgehammer to the chest. I had seen it coming—I warned him. But he just smiled with that infuriating confidence that had made him legendary, and said,
"Rudra, I taught you how to read the threads of fate itself. Do you really think I wouldn't see something that serious coming?"
But he didn't. He missed it completely.
Back then, everything was under our iron grip. Our control. The company we built together—Lifeline Prophecies—wasn't just dominating the market. We were the puppet masters pulling strings from the shadows.
Every big shot, every politician, every move in the global chess game was calculated through our foresight.
We didn't just predict the future; we decided it.
And yet... he died like a common dog in an alley.
The question that kept echoing in my fractured mind like a broken record:Who killed him?
"Does it even matter?" I thought bitterly, blood filling my mouth as consciousness flickered.
This time, I'm the target.
And whoever this bastard is... I can't see them. My eyes—these damn prophetic eyes that had made kings bow and empires tremble—were useless.
I cursed the blood-red orbs that couldn't even glimpse my own killer's face now.
"So, Mr. Rudra Deva Raya…"The voice dripped with sadistic pleasure."Didn't you see your future?"
The assailant's laughter erupted—loud, mocking, the sound of victory over a fallen god.
"Didn't you always say, 'I decide others' fate. No one decides mine'? 'MY WAY OR HIGHWAY'?"
He stepped closer, boots splashing in the growing pool of my blood. Each step was measured, deliberate. A predator savouring the kill.
"And now? Look at you… breathing only because I allow it."
That phrase... MY WAY OR HIGHWAY. Only a handful of people knew those words. Only my inner circle had heard me speak them.
Is he one of mine?
No—impossible.But the thought clawed at my dying consciousness like a rabid animal.
"Who... arghhh... yaa—"I tried to speak, but crimson liquid filled my mouth, choking off the words.
Me. The so-called Future Teller, reduced to this—unable to spit out a single sentence.
Pathetic.
I cursed myself with the last dregs of my pride.
The man crouched beside me, his face still shrouded in shadow. "What's wrong, Rudra? Can't see me? Can't even recognise my voice?"
He chuckled, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.
"Did my boys hit you that hard? Have your legendary senses just... given up?"
Despite the agony, I smirked.
That little word hit something deep.
Boys. Plural.
So... there's more than one. Who are they? Why go this far? What did I do to piss them off this badly?
Not a short list, honestly.
I've burned dreams like paper.Buried rivals in unmarked graves. Crushed families under the weight of manufactured fate. Manipulated futures for profit, for fun, for the intoxicating rush of absolute power.
But still... who is this? Who got close—so close—without me seeing it?Whose mask did I fail to see behind?
"SNAKE! Who are yaaa..."I roared, blood exploding from my throat like a geyser. It spilled down my chin, warm and thick.
My voice cracked mid-scream, but the word carried all my rage.
The bastard flinched. Just for a second, but I caught it.
Ah. So I struck the truth. He is definitely one of my own—but WHO?
"You fucking bastard!" he roared back, his composure shattered.
His boot connected with my most vulnerable spot—little Rudra taking the brunt of his fury.
I curled up like a dying insect, every nerve screaming as pain beyond description flooded my system.
"Hahaha.... Did you still not get it, Boss?" The voice was darker now, heavier with triumph.
"You are definitely not as smart as everyone gives you credit for."
He stepped forward—boots splashing in my blood like it was a puddle after rain.
His face remained hidden, but his movements told a story.Steady steps meant he wasn't one of the old guard.And he didn't hesitate before hitting me, which meant he'd done this before.
But I never kept goons under my direct command.
"You... were the most troublesome, but not after today." He said, satisfaction dripping from every word.
I tried to push myself up, arms trembling like autumn leaves. My body felt foreign—numb, broken, dying by degrees.
"You built something magnificent, Rudra," he continued, almost conversational now.
"But you forgot one fundamental truth—every king eventually becomes a tyrant.And every tyrant eventually gets a knife in the back from someone they trusted."
"This time, it's HIGHWAY for you, RUDRA."
He knelt beside me, leaning close enough that I could smell the metallic scent of my own blood on his coat.
"You didn't see me coming," he whispered like a lover sharing secrets." And that's your cardinal sin. You relied too much on those damn prophetic eyes. You saw everyone else's future but forgot to check your own."
He's right. The admission tasted like poison.
I got arrogant. I thought I was untouchable. Immortal.
I coughed violently, blood spraying like crimson rain. My vision blurred, the edges blackening like burnt photographs.
"Kill me, then," I muttered, choking on my own words." But don't... think this is over."
The figure tilted his head, curious. "It's over for you. Isn't that what matters?"
Through sheer will, I managed a smile. My lips stung from the split skin, but the expression was genuine.
"You can kill this body," I mumbled, gathering every ounce of strength left in my failing form." But you can't kill RUDRA. I'm not just flesh—I am an idea, a force of nature."
Confusion flickered across his shadowed features.
"I'm dying, yes..." I rasped, blood bubbling at the corners of my mouth."...but betrayal has a memory. And it always bites back."
"Someone will come for you. Someone worse. And when they do..."I fixed my fading gaze on him, burning it into his conscience,"...they'll start with that leg you used to hit me."
"He'll pay you back, Snake. One way or another—I owe you now.The Karma always comes back."
My voice dropped to a whisper that somehow carried more menace than my earlier screams:" And remember... SOME DEBTS CAN ONLY BE PAID IN BLOOD."
His eyes narrowed, but I was already fading.
The last breath slipped out of my body like smoke from a dying candle.
I can still feel the pain. Has my punishment in hell already started?
What is this? What is this blinding light?I fluttered my eyes wide.
There stood a semi-black fellow with some grey powder-type makeup.
"Who are you? Am I dead? Are you the messenger of death?" I asked the figure.
"NO. I am Asura," he said.