The uneasy feeling refused to leave Mohit's mind.
Ever since he had spotted the gray-coated figure under the streetlight, his senses remained alert, constantly scanning the environment. Even in class, even while walking home, even during quiet moments of cultivation — the faint impression of being observed lingered like a shadow behind his thoughts.
Not hostile.
But not harmless either.
That afternoon, Mohit left school slightly earlier than usual. The sky was overcast, clouds gathering slowly, dimming the streets in muted gray tones. The air felt thick — heavy with moisture and something else… pressure.
As he crossed a narrow side street near an abandoned bookstore, the sensation intensified.
Someone was close.
Very close.
Mohit stopped walking.
His breath slowed naturally as he stabilized his energy flow. The warmth inside him settled into a controlled circulation, preparing quietly without drawing attention.
A soft footstep echoed behind him.
"You're perceptive for someone so young," a calm voice said.
Mohit turned.
The gray-coated figure stood several meters away, face now visible — a man in his late twenties or early thirties, sharp eyes, composed posture, aura deep and controlled like a silent ocean.
No hostility radiated from him.
Only evaluation.
"Who are you?" Mohit asked steadily.
The man smiled faintly. "A watcher. For now."
Mohit's gaze sharpened. "Watching what?"
"Awakenings," the man replied calmly. "Potential. Stability. Growth."
Mohit felt his reverse cultivation defect twitch uneasily — reacting instinctively to the man's presence.
"You sensed me," the man continued. "That alone makes you exceptional."
Mohit didn't respond immediately. He studied the man's energy flow — smooth, refined, disciplined. This was not someone who gained power randomly.
"You're trained," Mohit said finally.
The man nodded slightly. "Yes."
Silence stretched between them.
The wind shifted, carrying dry leaves across the empty street.
"You stabilized unstable awakenings at the warehouse," the man said. "That requires precision and restraint. Not many can do that."
Mohit's eyes narrowed slightly. "You've been following us."
"Yes," the man admitted openly. "Because people like you shape the future."
Mohit clenched his fists subtly. "And what future are you shaping?"
The man stepped closer — not threateningly, but deliberately.
"A structured one. Order instead of chaos. Guidance instead of destruction."
Mohit's instincts screamed caution.
"Not everyone likes structure imposed on them," Mohit replied.
The man studied him carefully. "True. That's why we don't force immediately. We observe first."
A faint chill ran through Mohit.
"You're recruiting," Mohit said quietly.
The man smiled slightly. "Eventually."
The silence deepened.
Rain began to fall lightly, tapping against concrete.
"Tell me your name," Mohit said.
The man hesitated briefly. "You may call me Ravi."
Mohit nodded slowly. "I'm Mohit."
Ravi's eyes gleamed faintly. "I know."
That alone made Mohit uneasy.
"I won't interfere with you yet," Ravi said calmly. "But understand this — the awakened world is already moving. When the wave breaks, neutrality will become impossible."
"And if I refuse?" Mohit asked.
Ravi's expression remained calm. "Then you'll carve your own path. But the cost will be higher."
With that, Ravi stepped back.
His presence faded subtly, his aura dissolving into the surrounding environment until he blended completely with the city.
Gone.
Mohit stood alone in the light rain, heart steady but mind racing.
This wasn't just random survival anymore.
This was the beginning of factions.
Power structures.
Choices that could shape lives.
And he was already on the board.