Amar paced his Koregaon Park apartment, the neon glow of Bollywood posters casting erratic patterns on the walls, mirroring the turmoil in his mind. The clock read 8:30 PM, Pune's night alive with the distant rumble of monsoon thunder and the occasional splash of rain on the windowpane. The encounter with the controlled officer still gnawed at him, a thorn in his unbreakable will. The rival proxy's words—"disrupting the balance," echoed like a cosmic threat, stirring a wariness he hadn't felt since his first blackout. His chaotic heart, once a storm of rage, now pulsed with a guarded vigilance, a shield forged in the Darkness's crucible. He couldn't shake the sense of eyes watching from unseen realms, proxies lurking in the shadows of power.
Ria arrived, her presence a balm in the storm. She'd brought takeout from a nearby dhabha—steaming dal makhani, butter naan, and gulab jamun—her way of comforting him after his cryptic text about the "run-in." They sat on the balcony, the air heavy with petrichor, the city's lights twinkling like distant fireflies. "Tell me everything," she said, her voice soft but insistent, her hand finding his across the table. Her eyes, warm and searching, reflected the neon hues, a mix of concern and unwavering love.
Amar exhaled, his golden gaze meeting hers. "It was like the officer was a puppet, Ria. A voice spoke through him—cold, calculating. It knew about the 'God of Darkness,' warned me to stop interfering with its 'grand plan.' I'm wary now, more than ever. There are others like the Darkness—Light, Life, perhaps more—and they have proxies too." Ria's brow furrowed, her mind racing. Proxies? Like Amar? This is bigger than corruption—cosmic forces clashing through people like him. He's in danger, but he won't back down. "What does it mean for you?" she asked, her fingers tightening around his.
Amar's expression hardened, a flicker of his unbreakable resolve shining through. "It means I push harder. I won't let them stop me. I have an idea I've been working on—to multiply the people I visit." Ria tilted her head, confusion etching her features. "Multiply? How can you be in multiple places in one night?" Amar smiled, a enigmatic curve of his lips, his golden eyes twinkling with a secret thrill. He didn't explain, letting the mystery hang, his chaotic heart delighting in the anticipation.
That night, as Ria left with a kiss and a promise to check in, Amar sat in the darkness, his apartment a sanctuary of shadows. The rain pattered steadily, Pune's streets glistening under streetlamps. He closed his eyes, his senses unfurling like tendrils into the night. His powers, honed through endless practice, now allowed him to splinter his will—sending shadows to multiple targets while maintaining direct control over 10 to 12. It was a symphony of chaos, his mind a conductor. He selected from his corrupt list: a bribe-taking clerk in Lucknow, a land encroach er in Hyderabad, a fake charity operator in Ahmedabad, and nine more scattered across states. Shadows detached from his form, slithering through Pune's alleys, then leaping across miles, emerging in bedrooms, offices, and hideouts.
In Lucknow, a clerk awoke to golden eyes in the gloom, shadows coiling, forcing a confession of embezzled welfare funds. "Donate to Pratham," the shadow-Amar commanded, its voice a thunderous echo. In Hyderabad, a land shark gasped as shadows lifted him, naming accomplices and wiring millions to Smile Foundation. Ahmedabad's fraudster crumpled under the pressure, surrendering black money to Oxfam India. Simultaneously, the other shadows worked—confessions poured out, allies named, donations funneled to vetted charities. Amar's mind stretched, a web of control, his unbreakable will holding 12 strands taut. he Felt the strain, his focus a diamond, but the thrill was electric, his chaotic heart rejoicing at the multiplied justice.
Dawn broke, and the media ignited. NDTV flashed: "God of Darkness Strikes Twelve Cities at Once—Mass Confessions Rock Nation." Times of India screamed: "Multi-Shadow Menace or Vigilante Hero? Corrupt Officials Break Down in Unison." Social media exploded #MultiDarknessGod, #ShadowJustice, memes of a shadowy figure multiplying like a virus. WhatsApp groups buzzed with videos of officials weeping in court, claiming a "dark entity" compelled them. Public opinion split—some hailed the God of Darkness as a savior, lighting diyas in gratitude; others feared a supernatural curse, temples overflowing with prayers for protection. The hype was a wildfire, spreading from chai stalls in Kolkata to corporate cafeterias in Bengaluru, the nation gripped by a legend come alive.
Amar watched from his apartment, a faint smile playing on his lips, his golden eyes gleaming. The rival proxy's warning echoed, but his wariness fueled his drive. Ria texted, her message a mix of awe and concern: You did it. The world's talking. Be careful. He replied with a heart, his chaotic heart pulsing with victory, the shadows whispering of battles yet to come. The God of Darkness had multiplied, and India's rot trembled.