In Pune's Koregaon Park, the evening shadows draped Amar's apartment, his golden eyes glowing faintly as he stood by a window, the city's lights flickering below. The God of Darkness, protector of the weak, scourge of the corrupt, had forged a task force of 70–80 loyal allies over days, each contracted with a sliver of his power, led by Vikram Rathore. His bond with Darkness—a friendship, not servitude—set him apart from other proxies, whose identities and motives remained a mystery, their world disconnected from his own. Ria's love and Uplift's impact anchored him, yet the weight of his kills—men like Aryan Kapoor—lingered, a quiet storm in his heart. His mission to end corruption was clearer now, but the battles ahead loomed vast, demanding more than one man could bear. His phone buzzed, an unknown number flashing across the screen. He answered, and a voice, ancient yet sharp like a blade through time, cut through the silence. "Amar, it's The Messenger. Meet me tonight at our usual place—the fort. We need to talk. Be there at midnight."
Amar's shadows stirred, sensing urgency in the cryptic summons. "I'll be there," he replied, his voice steady but edged with caution. The call ended, leaving a hum of anticipation in the air. His heavy leather jacket, a conduit for Darkness's power, pulsed as he prepared, the weight of his role settling deeper. Under a moonlit sky, he dissolved into shadows, teleporting to the crumbling ramparts of Shaniwar Wada, Pune's ancient fort, their usual meeting spot. The fort's weathered stone walls loomed, etched with centuries of history, the air thick with the scent of moss, damp earth, and distant rain. Shadows pooled in the corners, whispering secrets of forgotten battles. The Messenger stood in a shadowed alcove, his ageless face half-lit by moonlight, eyes glinting with knowledge older than empires. His simple robe blended with the night, but his presence carried a weight that made the shadows themselves pause.
"Amar," The Messenger began, his voice low, resonant, carrying the gravity of eons. "The Sound primordial has chosen a new proxy. This one burns with vengeance, sworn to destroy you for ending his predecessor in Satpura. He's training now, honing Sound's power to shatter your shadows, to break your will. You must hurry. Your task force, your plans—whatever you're building, be ready, and soon."
Amar's golden eyes narrowed, his heart steady but racing with questions he couldn't voice. "A new proxy… I know others exist, but I don't know who they are, what they want. How close is this one? How much time do I have?" His shadows coiled tighter, a reflex of his unease. The Messenger's gaze sharpened, unyielding. "Close enough to be a threat, Chaos King. He's not alone; others guide him, weaving their own plans, but I'll say no more. Speed is your ally now. Your task force is a start, but you must move faster, strike harder."
Amar's jaw tightened, his mind flashing to the lives he'd saved, the corrupt he'd ended. "I'm building something real, Messenger. But this vengeance—it's personal. Why me?" The Messenger's lips curved, a faint, knowing smile. "You're the God of Darkness, Amar. You disrupt their order, challenge their control. That makes you a target."
Stepping closer, The Messenger's tone shifted, almost chiding. "And these meetings, skulking in forts—it's shady, unworthy of you. You're one of the most powerful proxies to ever walk the Earth, perhaps the greatest. Present yourself as such. You need a proper base, a stronghold, not these fleeting shadows." He reached into his robe, producing a folded parchment, its edges glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. "A gift, for entertaining me thus far. This is a teleportation rune diagram. Draw it with your Darkness, and it'll take you somewhere, my gift to you. "
Amar took the parchment, shadows coiling around his fingers as he felt its weight, both physical and symbolic. His golden eyes burned with resolve, the warning igniting a fire in his chest. "Thank you, Messenger. I'll build that base, and I'll be ready for this proxy, whoever he is." The fort's shadows deepened, the air heavy with the promise of battles to come, Amar's mission sharper than ever.