Mumbai thrummed under a monsoon deluge, its skyline a jagged silhouette against storm clouds. Noor, in a tailored black suit, sent a formal request to Arjun Kapoor's office at Kapoor Enterprises, a glass tower looming over Marine Drive. Noor Al-Bakri, envoy of international stakeholders, seeks an audience to discuss your father's legacy. Hours later, Arjun's assistant confirmed a meeting in the penthouse boardroom, a soundproofed fortress of glass and steel, windows framing the churning Arabian Sea.
Arjun Kapoor, 28, stood at the head of a polished ebony table, his sharp jaw and haunted eyes echoing his father's, his navy suit tailored to a frame taut with grief and obsession. He'd spent two months wielding his wealth—millions on investigators, bribes, hacked records—to learn his father was killed in Satpura, though the site remained a black hole, the truth buried. His gaze burned with relentless intelligence as Noor entered, her presence commanding yet disarming. She extended a hand. "Mr. Kapoor, thank you for meeting me. I represent allies who know the truth about your father's death."
Arjun shook her hand, his grip firm, his voice clipped. "My father, Aryan Kapoor, was India's richest man, his influence unmatched. I've spent millions to find his killer. Satpura's a dead end—no body, no evidence, just a cover-up. Investigators say he was murdered, but nothing more. What truth do you have, Ms. Al-Bakri?"
Noor's smile was measured, her tone smooth. "Your father was more than a tycoon. He was a proxy of Sound, one of 25 who rule the world's shadows. His power bent minds, shaped nations—India, Bangladesh, Nepal, and beyond. He was killed in his Satpura cube, a hidden fortress, by a rogue proxy—the God of Darkness, India's legend who punishes the corrupt and protects the weak. My allies offer you his power—Sound's contract—to avenge him and claim his domain."
Arjun's eyes narrowed, his intelligence slicing through her words. "The God of Darkness? The one they whisper about in Delhi's slums, Mumbai's streets—killing the wicked, sparing the innocent? If he killed my father, was my father corrupt? I knew his wealth wasn't always clean—bribes, deals—but a proxy with supernatural power? That's a leap. Why was Satpura covered up? How does this 'Sound' work? Who are your allies, and why give me this power?"
Noor leaned forward, unfazed but noting his sharpness. "Your father was a titan, channeling Sound—a primordial force—to command loyalty, shape events across eight nations. The Satpura cube was his stronghold, but the God of Darkness breached it, killed him, and freed thousands of his contracted followers to disrupt his empire. The authorities buried it to protect the world's hidden order. My allies—global powers—see you as his heir. Accept Sound's contract, and you'll wield his power to bend wills, backed by their resources—money, tech, armies. They don't want your father's domain; it's yours to rule if you defeat the God."
Arjun paced, his mind racing, grief and vengeance warring within. "My father… corrupt? I suspected his methods, but the God of Darkness only kills the worst—traffickers, tyrants. If he targeted my father, what was he hiding? How does Sound work—control minds, how? Why trust your allies? What do they gain?