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Just a heads up... This chapter marks the beginning of the multiverse crossover. There might be a few inconsistencies, but rest assured it will be explained in future chapters.
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- Kamal Aasthaan, Ujjain -
- October 30, 1939 -
The evening sun lingered lazily over the marble domes of Kamal Aasthaan, scattering its last golden rays into the palace garden. The fountains sparkled, the lotus ponds swayed softly, and the fragrance of blooming jasmines carried through the air.
For Aryan, this place had always been more than stone and design. It was a refuge — a space where the chaos of the world paused for a while. A space where war plans, factories, and councils faded into silence, leaving only laughter, warmth, and the company of those he loved most.
And today, he had Nalini beside him.
She sat close, draped in a soft saree the color of dusk, her long hair tied loosely with a string of mogra flowers. The gentle way her fingers brushed over the petals of a rose made Aryan's heart soften. It still amazed him how easily she could hold herself with elegance, yet laugh freely like the girl he had first fallen for.
He had proposed to her months ago, after Shakti, confessing his love without hesitation. Nalini had wept that day, not from sorrow, but from joy that spilled too fast for her heart to contain. She had accepted gracefully, her tears glistening like jewels, and now she was not just his beloved, but his fiancée — to be married to him alongside Shakti next year, with both their families smiling upon the union.
The royal halls of Nepal and Natore had already agreed. Aryan, Shakti, and Nalini — three lives tied together, three promises to be fulfilled on the same day. It sounded like a dream, and yet, in this garden, it felt so real.
Aryan leaned back against the stone bench, watching the fading light play across Nalini's face. "You don't visit here often enough," he teased, his tone light. "I almost start to think Kamal Aasthaan doesn't deserve you."
Nalini's lips curved in a small smile, her eyes lowering shyly. "If you saw the hours Shakti and I spend chasing after Hidden Flame's work, you'd forgive me. And then there's my studies… and my family pulling me back home. Trust me, I'd much rather be here."
He chuckled. "That sounds like an excuse."
"It is not!" She flicked a rose petal at him playfully, her eyes sparkling. "But fine, if you want, I'll make it up to you. I was thinking…" Her voice softened, almost mischievous. "Maybe we could go shopping? There's a new fashion house Shakti's parents opened in the commercial mandal. Everyone says it's the most luxurious place in the city."
Aryan tilted his head. "A place that caters only to the rich, hmm? Sounds like you're plotting to empty my pockets."
Nalini giggled, shaking her head. "As if you don't own half the city already."
Her laughter rang out like music, and Aryan let himself breathe in that sound. For once, he wasn't the Samrat or the architect of Bharat's future. He was just a man, in love, enjoying a quiet evening.
Yet even here, his mind drifted. His gaze fell to the bracelet on his wrist — sleek and simple, but alive with quiet power. His slime suit, resting in its dormant form. Shakti, Nalini, Karna, every member of Hidden Flame had one too. Practical, yes, but the designs… Aryan frowned slightly. They lacked flair, personality.
He Imagined upgrading them — sharper lines, better function, but also an elegance that matched the people wearing them. His mind painted images: Shakti in a regal suit infused with cosmic shimmer, Nalini in a graceful design that accentuated her strength and beauty, Karna in a bold warrior's armor, and himself — something fitting for the leader of them all.
The thought lingered, and before he knew it, a sly grin tugged at his lips. His imagination had strayed further, into a space that was… less than innocent. He could see Shakti and Nalini in those envisioned suits, both impossibly beautiful, both his.
Nalini caught the look instantly. Her cheeks flushed, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping into a whisper.
"You're thinking something strange again, aren't you?"
Aryan arched a brow, feigning innocence. "Me? Never."
Her eyes narrowed, but the pink on her cheeks betrayed her. With a soft breath, she murmured, "You know… Shakti and I… we also have some clothes we've kept aside. Special ones. For your eyes only."
Aryan froze for a beat, then let out a low laugh, his grin widening. "Oh? Then I suppose I must remind you — only I am allowed that privilege."
Nalini looked at him oddly, her lips twitching between embarrassment and amusement. "You really are impossible sometimes."
He reached for her hand, gently threading his fingers with hers. "Maybe. But you love me for it."
The garden grew quieter around them, fireflies beginning to glow in the corners. Nalini rested her head lightly on his shoulder, her blush lingering but her smile soft and content. Aryan closed his eyes, the warmth of her presence washing over him.
Outside these walls, nations were arming, storms were rising, and the world was preparing for fire. But here — in the Kamal Aasthaan garden, with Nalini's hand in his — Aryan found peace.
For tonight, that was enough.
—
Meanwhile….
While Aryan was relaxing, the universe or more specifically the multiverse had other plans entirely.
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- London, United Kingdom -
- November 2, 1939 -
The tailor's shop stood quietly on Savile Row, its sign painted in elegant gold: Kingsman. To the passerby, it was nothing more than another of London's high-end establishments, its windows filled with sharp suits and polished shoes. But beneath the polished oak doors and mirrored walls lay something else entirely — an underground hall lit with soft lamps, humming faintly with technology far ahead of its time.
The Kingsman were here.
Not of this world, not of this timeline — yet here all the same. They had been stitched into this strange reality without warning, their memories colliding with a world that felt familiar and alien all at once. A world where gods walked, mutants rose, and nations took turns in rewriting destiny.
It was only becausee of him that they understood any of it. The old man with kind yet piercing eyes, who called himself Merlin. Not the Merlin of fairy tales, but the one from the legends, or so he claimed. He had explained, almost casually, that this was not their Earth. That some cosmic upheaval had forced threads of universes together, and they had been swept along with the current.
At first, they had thought it madness. But with every passing week, the proof piled higher — India, now called Bharat, standing independent under an Emperor who was not just a leader but a mutant of terrifying genius. Factories of steel, technologies they had never seen, whispers of alien powers. And Nazi Germany… far deadlier than the history they remembered.
The world they thought they knew was gone. This one was darker, faster, unpredictable. And they had no idea where they fit into it.
That day, as they debated what path to take, the bell above the shop door rang.
She entered.
A woman unlike any they had seen before. Her beauty was not loud but commanding, her dark hair flowing like shadow, her eyes gleaming as though they carried secrets older than empires. She walked past the displays without sparing them a glance, her steps unhurried, her gaze fixed on the shopkeeper with unsettling precision.
"I am looking for Merlin," she said simply. Her voice was velvet, calm, but it carried weight.
Beneath the shop, the Kingsman agents watching through their hidden surveillance feeds felt the same chill run through each of them. They exchanged tense glances. Whoever she was, she did not belong to ordinary London. They could feel it in the air, a presence too heavy, too sharp.
One of them muttered under his breath, "We should intervene. This isn't just some customer."
The others nodded. Already, their hidden lifts began to rise, the doors clicking open, footsteps echoing as the Kingsman prepared to step into the light.
For years, their organization had lived by one rule: Manners maketh man. But here and now, it wasn't manners that mattered. It was survival.
And as they moved to confront the mysterious woman, the threads of fate between them — the stitched worlds, the fractured timeline, and the legends reborn — began to tighten.
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