The penthouse boardroom of Kapoor Enterprises loomed over Mumbai's Marine Drive, a soundproofed fortress of glass and steel, its floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Arabian Sea's churning waves under a monsoon deluge. Rain lashed the glass, a relentless drumbeat echoing the tension within. Arjun Kapoor, 28, paced at the head of a polished ebony table, his sharp jaw and haunted eyes mirroring his father's, his navy suit taut against a frame wired with grief and vengeance. Two months of wielding his wealth—millions on investigators, bribes, hacked records—had confirmed his father, Aryan Kapoor, was killed in Satpura, but the site remained a void, the truth buried by a cover-up. Noor Al-Bakri sat across from him, her tailored black suit and dark hijab framing a face of poised calculation, her dark eyes steady despite Arjun's piercing gaze. His questions hung in the air, sharp as blades, demanding answers about his father's death and the mysterious allies offering him power.
Arjun stopped pacing, his voice low but fierce. "You say my father was a proxy, controlling minds with Sound, ruling nations in secret. The God of Darkness—India's legend, punisher of the corrupt—killed him in Satpura. I suspected his deals weren't clean—bribes, influence—but corrupt enough for the God to target him? That's hard to swallow. What was he hiding? How does this Sound contract work? Your allies—why trust them when they hide behind you? What's their stake in my revenge?"
Noor's smile was measured, her tone smooth as silk, weaving truth with careful omissions. "Your father, Aryan Kapoor, was a titan among 25 who shape the world's shadows. His Sound—a primordial force—let him bend wills with a whisper, sway leaders, calm riots. The Satpura cube was his fortress, hidden from mortal eyes, but the God of Darkness, a rogue proxy, breached it, killed him, and freed thousands of his contracted to sow chaos. The cover-up protected the world's hidden order—proxies operate in secrecy. My allies, global powers, see you as his heir, capable of restoring his domain—India, Bangladesh, Nepal, and beyond. The Sound contract will give you his power: vibrations to command loyalty, influence minds. They offer resources—money, tech, armies—to make you formidable."
Arjun's eyes narrowed, his intelligence unrelenting. "Command loyalty? Like brainwashing? My father's wealth was power, but this… it's unnatural. If he was one of 25, why did the God of Darkness single him out? Was he worse than the rest? And your allies—what do they gain? Nobody offers power without a price."
Noor leaned forward, her voice steady, deflecting his suspicions with practiced ease. "The God of Darkness is a chaos-wielder, targeting proxies to disrupt their order. Your father's influence—eight nations—made him a prime target. He wasn't worse, just powerful, a threat to the God's plans. My allies seek stability; a fractured domain risks global ripples. They gain an ally in you, a new titan to maintain balance. The price? Only your commitment to defeat the God, to prove your worth for your father's seat among the 25."
Arjun's fists clenched, grief and rage warring within. "I spent two months chasing shadows—investigators, hackers, nothing but dead ends. You've given me the truth: my father was killed by this God of Darkness. I don't trust you, Ms. Al-Bakri, or your allies. Their secrecy reeks of agendas. But my father was my father—flawed, maybe corrupt, but mine. If the God killed him, I'll make him pay, no matter what he was. I'll take your power, all of it, to bury him."
Noor's eyes gleamed, sensing victory but noting his wariness. "A wise choice, Mr. Kapoor. The Sound contract will make you a force—unmatched, unstoppable. My allies will provide everything: funds, weapons, tech. You'll rule your father's domain, perhaps more."
Arjun's gaze hardened, his voice cold. "I'm not here to rule, only to avenge. How do I get this power? What's the process? And these allies—who are they, really? I'm not signing blind."
Noor's smile widened, her tone reassuring yet calculated. "The contract requires a ritual, guided by my master, a leader among the 25. His stronghold in the Persian Gulf is secure, equipped to awaken Sound within you. You'll meet him there, learn the contract's ways—vibrations, frequencies, control. My allies are guardians of global order, their identities revealed only to proxies. Trust their resources; they've backed titans for centuries."
Arjun paused, his mind racing, suspicion lingering. "A ritual? In the Persian Gulf? Sounds like a trap. Why not here? And if I take this power, what stops your allies from controlling me like they did my father?"
Noor's voice softened, masking her cunning. "No trap, Mr. Kapoor. The ritual needs a secure sanctuary—my master's domain ensures safety. Your father was a partner, not a puppet; you'll be the same. The power is yours to wield, bound only by your will to defeat the God."
Arjun stared out at the rain-lashed sea, his resolve ironclad. "Thank you for the truth, Ms. Al-Bakri. I've hunted for answers too long. I'll meet your master, take this Sound. But I'm watching you—and them. When do we leave?"
Noor rose, her presence commanding. "Tomorrow. A private jet will take us to my master's stronghold. There, you'll become Sound's heir and begin your vengeance."