Shaurya stirred awake, the smell of antiseptic sharp in his nose. The white ceiling above him looked like it had swallowed the night. A faint beeping marked the steady rhythm of his heart.
"Hello, sir," a voice said from beside the bed. "I hope you had a nice stay here."
Shaurya turned his head. His lips tugged into a weak smile.
"Oh, it's you, Takuya. It feels like I haven't seen you in forever."
Takuya snorted, folding his arms. "Idiot. We met two days ago."
Shaurya let out a soft laugh. "Then my memory must be slipping."
"Good excuse," Takuya muttered, though his brows furrowed with genuine worry. He leaned closer, his tone sharpening. "I told you before—you should always keep an assistant with you. This time you had your friend, but what if you were alone? You know you're a crucial part of the Union's project. If anything happens to you, they won't hesitate to strap you to a chair and lock you down just to keep you safe."
Shaurya chuckled, though his body felt heavy. "Alright, alright, we'll talk about that later. Right now, I'm hungry. Got anything to eat?"
Takuya exhaled through his nose, a smile flickering. "In that case, you're lucky. Your friend left enough food for a week. He stayed in your lounge the entire night, didn't sleep until we told him you'd stabilized. We asked him to go home and rest, but he refused. Said he'd wait until you were discharged. We told him it'd be afternoon."
Shaurya's smile dimmed, his gaze falling to the sheets. "Thank you… He doesn't know about my dreams, or the things that happen to me. I never tell him. I don't want to burden him."
A memory pulled him under.
A boy of three, scribbling equations with chalk on the floor, his parents laughing proudly beside him. Their voices, warm and safe.
Then—fire. Smoke. Sirens.
A lab accident. Twenty-three lives lost, including his parents. The boy left behind stood in silence, his small hands trembling. Shock, grief—but also a vow. I'll make their names shine. I'll work harder than anyone. I'll prove they didn't die in vain.
But fate does not reward effort alone. When it wants to create a diamond, it buries it in pressure and pain, carving it in darkness until it gleams.
At thirteen, he faced the test of serum synchronization. The number on the screen sealed his fate: failure. Zero. The academy halls filled with laughter that wasn't his. I failed them. What now?
He hadn't failed completely—he was simply stuck at the bottom. So low that the world itself lost hope in him. The humiliation was constant.
They tripped him in corridors.
They sneered when the tracker displayed his empty rate.
At first, it burned. Later, he numbed himself. Books became his shield. Knowledge, his only weapon.
One day, after class, he was shoved to the ground again. Even Suyash—his only friend—stood among the bullies, silent, eyes averted.
Shaurya's chest cracked with something deeper than pain. Betrayal.
That night, in another home, Suyash's mother—kind-eyed, a teacher by profession—spoke quietly to her husband.
"That child… I pity him so much. Once, everyone wanted him. Relatives lined up to adopt him, to claim him. But after his synchronization failed, no one came. They abandoned him. I'm just glad our son is still his friend."
Her husband lowered his device and said, voice flat as stone, "Don't fool yourself. People never cared about the boy. They cared about the money he might bring with a good sync rate. That's all they saw—profit."
His wife sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I always thought human desires would change with time, with progress. But I was wrong."
"It's not humans who command desire," he replied quietly. "It's desire that commands humans. They are puppets, nothing more."
Behind the door, Suyash listened. His hands trembled. Shame welled up until tears blurred his vision. He had bullied Shaurya—his friend—knowing all this. He ran into Shaurya's room.
The boy was asleep, face calm in the faint moonlight. Suyash stood over him, crying silently.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
After a long silence, he clenched his fists. If I don't protect him, then who will?
He left, closing the door softly behind him. Inside, Shaurya stirred, half-awake. He wondered faintly what had just passed through his room.
The change was visible the next morning. The friend who used to eat first and leave first now waited for him. They walked to the academy together. In class, Suyash leaned close, asking for help with formulas he didn't understand. When bullies circled, he stepped between them and Shaurya.
But bullies are opportunists. They strike when backs are turned. As soon as Suyash left the room, they descended.
One of the boys stepped forward, snarling, "What do you think you're doing? He's nothing compared to us. Stay away from Suyash, you hear me, you low piece of junk!" He shoved Shaurya's shoulder, books scattering across the floor..
Shaurya ignored them, calmly flipping the pages of his novel.
A hand seized his collar, yanking him upright. But before the boy could sneer again, Suyash's voice roared through the room.
"Didn't I tell you not to touch him?"
The bully faltered. "But—"
"But what?" Suyash's eyes blazed. "Do I need to repeat myself?"
The boy's grip loosened immediately. The others melted back, muttering, retreating.
Suyash turned, guilt heavy in his voice. "I'm sorry. This happened because of me. But no more. From now on, I'll stand with you."
The memory faded. Shaurya's eyes blinked open to the white ceiling of the hospital room. A faint smile touched his lips.
After discharge, Shaurya returned home, the shard heavy in his pocket, its hum a constant whisper. He sank onto his couch and opened his device, notifications piling up. He scanned the urgent ones first, heart racing at a Union alert: "Missing neural piece detected at Mount Akash Chumbi (1), far from Brahmāvarta, Sector 4. Coordinates enclosed. Travel: one day. Anomalous activity noted."
This was it—one of the fragments he'd hunted, a relic tied to the project. As he mulled the journey, he headed to the lab.
Elsa was there, poring over scans. "Elsa," he said, "Union flagged a fragment at Mount Akash Chumbi. What do the readings show?"
She frowned. "90% chance it's real. Signals align with the shard's and it might be the 'One of Three'. But Shaurya, you're fresh from the hospital—rest first."
"No time," he replied. "This could explain everything."
She relented. "Pack carefully. I'll track you remotely."
Shaurya prepared swiftly: scanner, stabilizers for himself, survival gear, and the shard. By dusk, his hovercraft sped toward Sector 4, the landscape blurring into wild terrain.
A day later, Mount Akash Chumbi rose before him, mist-cloaked and ominous. His device buzzed with erratic signals as he hiked, the air biting cold. The scanner led to a concealed fissure, energy humming within.
To be continued…
(1) Akash Chumbi: From Hindi—'Akash' (sky) and 'Chumbi' (derived from touch/kiss)— its name evoking a peak that kisses the heavens..."