In his Koregaon Park apartment, Amar sat cross-legged, shadows swirling around him like a protective veil. The monsoon had eased, but his mind stormed with strategy. "No more chasing small fry," he muttered to himself, his golden eyes narrowing. "The shadows can handle the corrupt officers now—extract confessions, force justice. I need to find The Man." He leaned back, plotting. "The higher I climb, the closer I get. Ministers, power brokers—they'll lead me to him."
Over the next month, Amar became a whisper in Delhi's corridors of power, visiting ministers one by one under the cover of night. His first target: Rajesh Gupta, the Minister of Finance, in his lavish bungalow. Shadows enveloped Gupta as he sipped tea in his study, snapping him to attention. "Who—what are you?" Gupta stammered, dropping his cup, eyes wide with terror.
Amar's voice rumbled from the darkness, his form materializing. "The God of Darkness. You know my name. And I know yours—and your sins."
Gupta backed against the wall, sweating. "Please, I—I have money! Power! What do you want?"
"Information," Amar growled, shadows coiling around Gupta's wrists. "Your allies. Your deals. The man above you—the one pulling strings. Names, Gupta. All of them."
Gupta's voice cracked. "I can't! He'll kill me!"
Amar's golden eyes blazed. "Refuse, and the darkness claims you now. Talk."
Trembling, Gupta spilled: offshore accounts, bribes from tycoons, a shadowy figure known only as "The Bearded One." Amar extracted every detail, then vanished, leaving Gupta alive but shaken. "You live—for now," he whispered as he faded.
Night after night, Amar repeated the ritual. With Priya Singh, the Health Minister, in her penthouse: "Tell me about your pharmaceutical kickbacks," he demanded, shadows dimming the lights. "Who funds you? Who's the mastermind?"
Singh resisted at first. "You're a myth! A hacker trick!" But as shadows tightened, she broke: "It's a network—politicians, businessmen. The top? I don't know his face, but he controls everything!"
Over a month, Amar intimidated dozens, gathering intel without forcing public confessions. Each nugget—names, deals, connections—he passed to Inspector General Vikram Rathore via shadowy whispers or anonymous drops.
One evening, Amar communed with the Darkness in his apartment, shadows thickening into a cosmic presence. "How does he do it?" Amar asked, his voice urgent. "The other proxy—The Man. Controlling people like puppets, bending their wills and then killing them outright."
The Darkness rumbled, a deep, amused echo filling the room. "His power is unique, proxy. A gift from his patron—perhaps. He twists minds, plants suggestions, turns men into extensions of himself."
Amar frowned. "Can I counter it? Protect those I need?"
The Darkness chuckled, vast and eternal. "You have your own gifts. Form contracts with humans—bind them to your shadows. Grant them power, and in return, shield them from other influences. They become your allies, untouchable by rivals."
Amar's eyes lit. "How?"
"Offer, and if they accept, seal it with will. But choose wisely—they'll carry a piece of you."
Amar nodded, resolve hardening. "Ria first. She's earned it."
He teleported to Ria's apartment, materializing in her living room as she read a book. She jumped, then smiled. "Amar! You scared me. What's up?"
Amar sat beside her, his voice soft. "Ria, I need your help—more than before. The Man controls people, twists them. But I can protect you, give you power. A contract—bind us through shadows."
Ria's eyes widened, curious. "Power? Like yours?"
"Not exactly," Amar said. "You'll hear me in your mind, talk back to me . No more fatigue, Increased strength,more power, stronger senses. And you'll sense through shadows nearby—not like me, but close enough."
Ria grinned, trusting. "Sounds amazing. I'm in. What do I do?"
Amar took her hand, shadows swirling. "Accept, and it's done." She nodded, and a pulse of darkness flowed between them. Ria gasped, her skin glowing faintly. "Whoa… I feel… alive. No tiredness. And my skin—it's smoother!" She laughed, touching her face. "And I hear you… in my head?"
Yes, Amar thought, his voice echoing in her mind. Like this.
Ria's eyes sparkled. "This is incredible! I love this—talking whenever I want. You're always with me now."
Amar smiled. "It'll help us both. But test the shadows—listen nearby."
Ria focused, shadows stirring. "I… I hear the neighbors arguing. Wow, only close by, but still!"
Amar's chaotic heart warmed. "You're safe now—from him."
Next, Amar targeted Rathore. The inspector had used Amar's info to build secret files on the ministers, stacking evidence of corruption. In his office, Rathore pored over documents. "This is dynamite," he muttered to himself. "If I play this right…"
A shadow deepened, Amar emerging. "Using my gifts well, Rathore?"
Rathore startled, then sighed. "You again. Yeah, your tips? Gold. I've got files on half the cabinet now. But the Minister's blocking me."
Amar nodded. "That's why I'm here. I can protect you—from The Man's control. A contract. Accept, and you gain power—hear me in your mind, resist fatigue, Increased strength, more power, stronger senses. And immunity to his influence."
Rathore raised an eyebrow. "A deal with the devil? Or shadow, whatever you are."
Amar chuckled. "Not a devil. An ally. He could turn you against me. This keeps you free."
Rathore paused, weighing it. "What's the catch? I become your puppet?"
"No," Amar said firmly. "You stay you. Just stronger. Help me expose him, and we win."
Rathore met his gaze. "Alright. I'm in. Do it."
Shadows sealed the bond, Rathore shuddering. "Damn… I feel… energized. And your voice—in my head?"
Testing, Amar thought.
Rathore grinned faintly. "Weird, but useful. And shadows… I hear whispers from the next room. My aide's on the phone."
Amar faded. "Good. Keep hunting me—publicly. But use this to dig deeper. We're close."