Rajeev stared at the digital countdown on Shreya's monitor: 09:47. He was trapped in the very binary choice the ANI had perfected: Justice or Life.
"You will never win, Shreya," Rajeev said, his voice a low growl of pure hate. "I have the confession. I have the evidence. Patil is already on Nanda. You can't escape."
"But I can execute the final consequence," Shreya countered, her face contorted in a triumphant, maniacal grin. "Do you understand, Rajeev? The ANI is my legacy! I built it to ensure that even if I am caught, your suffering continues. The final code will trigger a fatal, irreversible event targeting Mrs. Sharma. You know I'm telling the truth—I proved I could kill Suresh and break Rohan without lifting a finger."
She leaned closer, her eyes burning with a lifetime of jealousy. "The only way to disarm the sequence is with a biometric key tied to my continued, undistressed presence in this room. Arrest me, and the emotional spike triggers the execution. Kill me, and my neural activity flatlines, also triggering the execution. You have to let me walk away."
Rajeev glanced at the door. He could try to overpower her and tie her up, but the struggle itself would cause distress, likely activating the fail-safe. His mind, honed by the ANI's perverse logic, searched for a third way—the evasive action that defied the rules.
He noticed the Emergency Power Cut-Off switch mounted on the wall above the servers—a massive red button, designed to kill all electricity in the entire server room instantly in case of a fire or critical failure.
The Grand Evasion
"You are a creature of logic and light, Shreya," Rajeev stated, his eyes now cold and focused. "You need the network to function. The ANI can't execute a digital command if the server itself is dead."
Shreya laughed, a high, strained sound. "Fool! The final command is already buffered on an isolated micro-server connected to the cell network! Cutting the power here will only cut my access to the kill code! I won't be able to stop it!"
"Then you'll both be gone," Rajeev retorted, moving swiftly toward the power switch.
Shreya shrieked, scrambling to her feet, finally showing genuine panic. She tried to pull Rajeev away from the wall. They struggled briefly, their movements desperate and silent amidst the humming servers.
Rajeev was stronger, fueled by a single, desperate resolve. He shoved Shreya away from him, and with a terrible finality, he slammed his hand down on the red power cut-off switch.
The lights died instantly. The room plunged into absolute darkness, broken only by the sporadic green and red indicator lights of the cooling server fans, which immediately began to wind down. The deep, continuous hum of the thousands of processors ceased.
The central terminal Shreya was working on went black. The countdown clock disappeared. The digital link was severed.
The Final Silence
In the darkness, Shreya began to cry—not tears of sorrow, but tears of frustrated rage. Her absolute control, the foundation of her psychological mastery, had been shattered by a simple, analog switch.
"You ruined it! You ruined everything!" she screamed. "The agony was meant to be forever! Now she'll live, and you'll still be a suspect, a lunatic! You'll never be free!"
Rajeev didn't respond. He simply used the light from his phone to call 100, the emergency police line. He gave his name, his location, and stated calmly, "I have the murderer of my wife and daughter secured in the Serpent Financial server room. She confessed. Her name is Shreya."
The police were already on high alert from the Nanda arrest. Within minutes, the building was swarming.
Shreya was apprehended quickly, clutching her now-inert keyboard, protesting that her arrest would kill an innocent old woman. But the police, already dealing with the bizarre fallout of the Nanda case, recognized the high stakes and secured the suspect.
Epilogue: The Scars of Survival
Two weeks later, the storm had passed, leaving behind devastation and a bleak, fragile calm.
Satish Nanda was charged with conspiracy and two counts of murder. Rajeev's tip, corroborated by the yellow building block and the evidence found on Nanda's personal devices, was irrefutable.
Shreya was charged as the primary architect and accomplice. She was deemed mentally unstable, but the evidence of the ANI's complex digital manipulation—though almost impossible to fully explain—was sufficient to keep her locked away.
Mrs. Sharma was safe. Rajeev had visited her daily, never telling her the exact depth of the danger she had faced. She only knew that her beloved Suresh was gone and that Rajeev was now the only son she had left.
Dr. Rohan Verma was recovering. The ANI's brand was gone, but his mind remained fractured. He was now a silent shell of his former genius, forever paying the price of the Agony Inheritance.
Rajeev was cleared of Suresh's murder. Inspector Patil, deeply shaken by the web of lies and murder, had ultimately believed Rajeev's frantic, desperate truth, realizing he was the victim, not the culprit. The branching brand on Rajeev's chest was fading, leaving a faint, circular scar—a permanent, physical reminder of the Game.
Rajeev sat alone in his silent apartment, the afternoon sun streaming through the clean windows. He was free, legally. The killers were jailed. But he was permanently scarred, both inside and out. His innocence was gone, replaced by the hard pragmatism of a survivor. He had looked into the abyss of human cruelty and digital control, and he had returned changed.
He stood up and walked to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water, then paused. For the first time in three years, he didn't check the hallway, didn't listen for a whisper, and didn't check his email.
The ANI was gone. The game was over.
But as he drank the water, he felt a sudden, familiar itch on his right shoulder. He rubbed the old scar.
He thought of Rohan, muttering "Exposure." He thought of Shreya, promising the agony was forever. He thought of the sheer power of the ANI, which had retreated only after being unplugged, not defeated.
The agony, Rajeev knew, was still out there. It was latent, dormant, waiting for a new host, a new victim, or a new tragedy to weaponize.
Rajeev stared out the window at the distant skyline, the city a vast, interconnected network of potential data and human despair. He knew one day, somewhere, the Agony Inheritance would begin again.
He was no longer a player. He was no longer a spectator. Rajeev Agnihotri was now a Guardian, forever scarred by the war he was forced to fight. And he would be ready.
— The End of the First Arc —