~
Sterling University, Bengaluru. Humanities Block.
Ethan Cole, twenty-one, late, and running on nothing but instant coffee and pure adrenaline, skidded to a stop outside the third-floor examination hall. He adjusted the collar of his slightly wrinkled polo shirt, attempting to look less like a man facing academic doom and more like the charming slacker he was.
His greatest weakness, however, wasn't his attendance; it was his temper.
He spotted Maya leaning against the pillar, scrolling through her phone. The sight of her—her dark, intense eyes and the casual grace with which she held herself—always managed to cool the frantic heat inside him. She was the one beautiful constant in his chaotic life.
"Late, as always, Cole," Maya smiled, a hint of steel beneath the softness.
"Five minutes early, actually. I call it 'Strategic Entrance Timing.' Did you memorize that bit about theoretical physics anomalies?"
"Did you study anything besides how to perfect your smirk?" she countered.
Ethan opened his mouth to reply, but a cold, heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder.
"Look what the wind blew in, Maya. The genius who thinks charm gets you a degree."
It was Ben, the university's resident trust-fund bully, flanked by two equally large friends. Ben had been gunning for Ethan since he noticed Maya paid Ethan more attention than anyone else.
"Not today, Ben," Ethan said, his voice low. His jaw was already tight. He had to keep his temper locked down. Lately, when he got truly angry, his ears rang, and his hands felt unnaturally warm.
"Oh, today, Ethan. You see, I overheard your pathetic plea to the Dean. Fail this exam, and your scholarship is revoked. Too bad for you, I made sure the answer sheet you were hoping to crib from went missing." Ben leaned in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Enjoy your walk home, future dropout."
That was the last straw. The loss of the scholarship wasn't just about the exam; it was the loss of his future, the loss of his stability, the loss of Maya. It felt like his entire existence was crumbling due to this arrogant idiot.
~
The Ember Touch (1.1 Star: Initial Awakening)
A terrifying sensation ignited inside Ethan's chest—not anger, but a raw, physical heat. It centered deep below his ribs, at what felt like the core of his very soul.
"Get your hand off me," Ethan choked out.
Ben laughed and shoved him hard against the wall. The impact jarred Ethan's spine.
That was the trigger.
Ethan's world fractured. The ringing in his ears intensified, morphing into a terrifying, deep roar—like the sound of a thousand furnaces igniting simultaneously.
He saw red, but it wasn't just metaphorical. Through his own eyes, he saw blinding, unstable crimson light erupting from his right hand.
"You push me one more time," Ethan whispered, his voice sounding ragged, "and you'll regret it for a century."
"A century? What are you—"
Before Ben could finish the sentence, Ethan's right hand shot out and gripped Ben's forearm.
Sizzle.
It wasn't a punch. It was a terrifying, localized release of raw, chaotic heat. The moment Ethan's skin touched Ben's expensive blazer, the fabric didn't just heat up—it combusted.
A plume of dark, acrid smoke instantly enveloped Ben's arm.
Ben shrieked, letting go of Ethan and stumbling backward. He stared at his forearm. Where Ethan had touched him, the fabric was not just burned, but vaporized, and a patch of his skin was already turning a horrific, angry red.
"What... what was that?" Ben whimpered, clutching his arm in shock and agony.
Silence descended upon the hallway. Students froze, mid-conversation, staring at the patch of burnt wall and the smoke rising from Ben's arm.
Ethan stared at his own hand. His skin felt like it was simultaneously on fire and regenerating. The pain was excruciating, but the heat… the heat was intoxicating.
His right palm now bore a terrifying mark: a small, dark, yet intensely glowing Rudra symbol, the first visible flicker of the Rudra Essence. This was his entry into the Initial Awakening (1.1 Star).
~
The Cold Gaze and The Protector
Ethan didn't wait. He didn't understand. He just ran. The shame of the uncontrolled power, the terror of the burning—it drove him through the halls, past the frozen faces of his peers.
As he bolted down the main staircase, he passed a man standing silently by the library doors: Professor Alistair Vance, the professor of Ancient History.
Vance wasn't looking at Ethan. He was looking at the burning mark on the wall upstairs. His eyes—usually twinkling with academic amusement—were now pools of icy, unnerving calm. Vance's lips curved into a faint, predatory smile.
"The Century's Cycle begins again," Vance murmured to himself, then turned his gaze toward the running figure of Ethan Cole. "This time, Mahakal, Kaal will not let you even complete the first Avatar."
Ethan made it out onto the main lawn, collapsing onto a bench, desperately trying to cool his searing palm.
Suddenly, a woman dropped onto the bench beside him. She was dressed in casual, modern wear, but her expression was ancient—serious, determined, and deeply worried.
It was Zara, a mysterious research assistant whom Ethan had only seen occasionally in the library.
"Your hand," Zara said, her voice sharp and low. "Don't touch it. Don't let anyone see it."
"Who are you? What was that?" Ethan gasped, shaking.
Zara grabbed his wrist, ignoring the heat radiating from his palm.
"I am your protector, or at least, the current one. And what you just did was the first scream of the Mahakal Essence." She glanced around nervously. "You have no memory, right? Just vague flashes of fire and a constant sense of impending doom?"
Ethan could only nod, his heart pounding.
"You are a warrior, Ethan. An Immortal Warrior cursed by Kaal (Time) to lose your memory every one hundred years. You die, you are reborn, you fall in love, you fight, and then you lose everything when the curse resets."
She held up his still-smoking palm. "That burn is the first sign that the curse is activating. You have about one hundred years to break the cycle. If you don't, you lose Maya, you lose me, you lose you."
~
The Cliffhanger: The Shadow's Mark
"We have to go. Now," Zara commanded, pulling him up. "Professor Vance—he's the enemy's first agent here. We call him The Shadow."
"Maya! I have to get Maya!"
"You can't," Zara said, pulling him towards the university gates. "Kaal's Shadow knows your greatest weakness. He has already planted a Seed of Corruption in the one you love most."
As they reached the gate, Zara abruptly froze. She looked down at the cobblestone path near Ethan's feet.
A spot on the ground was not frozen or burned, but unnaturally cold and dark—a tiny patch of Void Energy where the air itself seemed to be decaying.
"He's fast," Zara whispered, her face pale. "The Shadow has already marked you. He's saying hello."
The small, chilling spot of decay was growing, spreading slowly across the cobblestones, moving towards Ethan's running shoes.
Suddenly, Ethan felt a sharp, mental image rip through his mind: Maya, standing alone in the library, her eyes briefly flickering icy black.
"Maya..." Ethan muttered, terror filling him.
Zara yanked him hard. "Run, Ethan! Run! The Century's Cycle has begun, and the curse just claimed its first piece of your heart. We have to find your first weapon and teach you to control the fire before it consumes you!"
They sprinted out onto the busy streets of Bengaluru, the cold patch of Void Energy spreading behind them, slowly dissolving the stone into dust. Ethan Cole, the 21-year-old engineering student, was gone. In his place was a terrified, burning warrior, hunted by a memory he didn't even know he had.
~