The dawn's first light bled across Ahmedabad's sky, casting the gnarled banyan tree near Arjun Mala's estate in a glow of fire and shadow. Jai Vora, Amir, and Dhruv crouched at the trapdoor, their satchels heavy with looted documents, jewelry, and coins from Mala's safe. The estate's torchlit towers stood silent, unaware of their master's death, but the air thrummed with urgency—Kofi's bomb waited, and the girl, now Maya, was late. From the merchant's rooftop, Ravi, Manoj, Sarita, and Sameer signaled with match fires, their binoculars glinting as they watched for patrols. The Emperor System, Jai's secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed: "Maya's cutting it close, kid. That bomb's fuse won't wait, and those assassins below are a powder keg."
Jai's whisper cut through the silence. "Maya, come out." A rustle answered, and Maya emerged from the trapdoor, her daggers glinting, her eyes fierce yet strained. Before she could speak, Jai's voice sharpened. "You too—come down. No need to hide." A shadow stirred in the banyan's branches, and a man dropped lightly to the ground—Nishil, the veteran assassin, his lean frame belying his fifty years, muscles taut as a man of twenty-five. His eyes, sharp as flint, widened in surprise. "You sensed me? No bloodlust, no sound, and still you knew?" He chuckled, low and rough. "I must be rusty."
Without warning, Nishil lunged, his blade flashing toward Jai. Amir reacted in a heartbeat, his Bladework a blur as he parried the strike, steel singing against steel. Dhruv flung two daggers, their arcs deadly, but Nishil twisted, deflecting them with a flick of his wrist before stepping back. He raised a hand, bowing low. "Forgive the test, young lord. Maya spoke of your strength, but I had to see it myself. If I'm to entrust the children to you, I needed proof."
Jai's gaze was iron, his Wisdom reading the man's intent. "You've seen enough. I'm Jai Vora. Mala's dead—I drove his own guard's sword through him for what he did to my family." Nishil's breath caught, shock rippling across his weathered face. "Dead? Mala, gone?" He glanced at Maya, who nodded. "It's true, Master Nishil. Jai's team took him out—clean, swift. He's here for my sister, Mira, and he's promised freedom."
Nishil's eyes softened, " His voice cracked, then steadied. "I stayed, training these kids—Mira, the others—so they'd be strong, not die. Mala's wealth meant nothing to me. The children are my purpose."
Jai nodded, his Charm weaving trust. "Then hear my offer. I've taken Mala's wealth—documents, coins, jewels—to build Vora Trading Company. I'll take Mira and the other seven children, but not as assassins. They'll be free. Those over eight will train as guards or workers, paid for their work. Those under eight get food, shelter, and a craft to learn—smithing, trade, whatever suits them. At twelve, they'll take full jobs, earning their keep as equals, not slaves. No chains, no blood."
Maya's eyes widened, hope flickering. "You mean it? Mira, the others—they'll live free?" Jai met her gaze. "I swore it, Maya. No masters, no cages." Nishil studied Jai, his experience weighing the boy's words. "And what of me? You'd leave an old blade like me behind?"
Jai's system pinged, revealing Nishil's stats: exceptional Strength and Stamina, with Teaching=28 and Stealth=22—a master assassin and mentor. "Join me," Jai said, voice resolute. "Serve Vora Trading Company. Train my people—not for killing, but for strength, for protection. In return, the children are yours to guide, to keep safe." The system buzzed: "He's a gem, Jai. Teaching like that? He'll make your team unstoppable. Seal this deal."
Nishil knelt, his blade at his side. "I've seen men, lords, liars. You're different, Jai Vora. A boy, yet a leader. I trust you with the children, with my purpose. I'll serve you." Maya exhaled, relief softening her stance, while Amir and Dhruv lowered their weapons, respect in their eyes.