The rain did not stop that night.
It poured endlessly over the broken rooftops of Mumbai, washing away dust—but never the suffering.
Young Rocky stood outside his small hut, staring into the darkness. His face was calm, but his eyes… they were different now.
They were no longer the eyes of a child.
Behind him, the lifeless silence of his home echoed louder than any storm.
His mother was gone.
The only person who ever cared for him… the only person who ever believed he could be more than this life… was gone.
For a moment, the world felt empty.
But then—
Her words returned.
"If you die… die like a king."
Rocky clenched his fists.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away.
Instead, he whispered to himself,
"I won't die poor… I won't live like this."
The streets around him were filled with people fighting over scraps, begging for money, struggling to survive another day.
Rocky watched them carefully.
He noticed something…
The ones with money were feared.
The ones with power were obeyed.
And the ones without it…
were forgotten.
A group of men passed by, laughing loudly, throwing coins at beggars like it meant nothing.
Rocky picked up one of those coins from the muddy ground.
He held it tightly in his hand.
That small piece of metal felt heavier than anything he had ever held before.
"This…" he said quietly, "this is power."
The rain slowed down.
The storm outside faded.
But inside Rocky—
a fire had just begun.
📖 Page 3: "First Step into Power"
Morning came, but the city did not change.
The streets of Mumbai were still loud, still ruthless… still unforgiving.
Rocky walked alone through the crowded alleys, his small feet stepping over mud, garbage, and broken dreams.
No one noticed him.
And that… made him stronger.
A group of boys his age were fighting over a piece of bread nearby.
One pushed the other to the ground.
Another snatched the food and ran.
Rocky didn't move.
He just watched.
Carefully.
Silently.
He wasn't thinking like a child anymore.
He was learning.
"In this world… you don't get what you deserve.""You take what you can."
A man shouted from a distance, calling for workers.
"Hey! You kids! Come here—carry these boxes!"
The boys ran towards him, desperate for a few coins.
Rocky followed slowly.
The man looked at him and laughed.
"You look too weak," he said. "Can you even lift anything?"
Rocky didn't answer.
He simply walked forward, grabbed a heavy wooden box… and lifted it without a word.
The man's smile faded.
For hours, Rocky worked without stopping.
At the end of the day, the man threw a few coins at him.
Rocky caught them mid-air.
For a second, he stared at those coins.
Then he looked up at the man.
"Is this all?" Rocky asked quietly.
The man smirked. "That's more than you deserve."
Silence.
Rocky stepped closer.
His grip tightened around the coins.
One thought echoed in his mind—
"Power doesn't beg… power takes."
Without warning, Rocky pushed the man and grabbed more coins from his pocket.
The man stumbled back in shock.
Before anyone could react—
Rocky ran.
Fast.
Fear chased him…
but something else ran with him too.
Something stronger.
Something dangerous.
For the first time—
Rocky didn't feel like a victim.
He felt alive.