~ "To them, I'm just a student. But beneath the silence—I was forged as a weapon."
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VED'S PERSPECTIVE
{Where. Have. You. BEEN?!}
I shouted at the tiny glowing figure hovering in front of me, my voice shaking with fury.
{You show up now?! After three damn years?!}
My fists trembled. Rage burned through my bones.
{I transmigrated into this world three years ago—three! And you decide to wake up NOW?! After demonic beast attacks, blood rituals, near-death battles, and watching me—your master—almost die more times than I can count?!}
I stumbled back, gasping.
That's right.
There's a truth I've hidden deep within me—
A truth only I know.
I don't belong to this world.
Not truly.
More accurately... my soul doesn't.
I once lived in the Astraelion System—a highly advanced solar system where culture, cultivation, and technology coexisted in perfect harmony. A place—light-years ahead of this world in both intellect and innovation of anything I first imagined.
In that life, I wore many masks. But secretly?
I was something feared. Something revered—
A Noxhunt.
One who purified tainted souls and hunted the wicked that slipped between realms.
That life ended abruptly... and stupidly.
Killed in a sudden explosion caused by my sworn sister's careless mistake.
How ironic—
I fought terrifying entities beyond imagination, risking my life daily…
Only to be blown up in a research accident.
Sigh... What a tragic way to go.
But that's life—uncertain, unfair, unforgiving.
You will never know what the next second holds.
Yet, that wasn't the end.
Fate had other plans.
In some cruel twist of cosmic humor, I was granted a second chance—
Reborn inside the very game I had once obsessed over:
"The God Chosen and Four Princes."
A game adapted from a masterpiece of a novel—written by none other than Shivangi, a legendary author in my original world.
It wasn't your typical love story.
Despite being labeled as a BL novel, it wasn't explicit. No censored scenes. No forced tropes.
Just… a pure, timeless love.
A story so profound, people across the entire Astraelion System—old, or young—readers of all backgrounds—read it again and again, their hearts swelling with wonder each time.
But here's the twist—
When adapted into a game, something went terribly wrong.
Every time Anirudh Pratap Chauhan, the side antagonist, met his end—no matter how flawlessly you followed the script—the screen would flash:
"GAME OVER…"
Every. Single. Time.
At first, I dismissed it as a glitch.
But the pattern was too deliberate, too perfect in its defiance.
It consumed me.
I mapped every possible path, studied every ending, traced every death.
Thread by thread, I was unraveling the truth hidden within the code—until fate, with cruel timing, intervened.
My sister.
Clumsy. Curious.
Always nearby—knocked over her drink.
One spark.
One glitch.
One catastrophic explosion.
And in that blaze of flames and shattered circuits—
Everything changed.
When I opened my eyes again…
I wasn't dead.
But I wasn't me either.
I had become someone else.
An unknown, unrecorded character.
An adopted brother of the protagonist, Devansh Sen.
My name?
Ansh Sen.
No record of my existence in the original novel.
No plotline to follow.
Just... here.
Alive.
And confused.
I wondered—maybe this is just coincidence.
But the thought that she was in that room with me haunts me every day.
Did she survive?
Or could she be here too?
Could her soul had also crossed over with mine?
If there's even the slightest chance her soul also travelled to this world...
I've scattered clues. All across the land.
Hoping.
Waiting.
But it's been three years.
And just like that—
Nothing.
No sign.
No whisper.
No dream.
Still… I hope.
Or was it all just wishful thinking?
She was my light...
The only one who made the darkness bearable.
I hope she's safe.
Wherever she is.
Be it in this world… or another.
Sometimes, a single tear escapes.
And I can't tell—
Is it because I miss her?
Or because I believe she's out there…
Living. Breathing. Free?
One thing I do know—
The story's main plot hasn't even started yet.
Or to say more certainly—
The real story hasn't even begun.
But it will.
Soon.
The protagonist, Devansh, will be set to travel another state—triggering the opening of the real story.
A major event is about to unfold—
The world will awaken.
But for now—me?
Right now, I'm being summoned like a criminal—for interrogation as if I'm the cause of some unseen catastrophe.
Facing:
The revered Kulapati Vedananda.
The legendary Acharya Dhanvantri.
And the protagonist himself—Devansh Sen.
…As if I started all this.
No.
They don't know my story yet.
And they never will.
Because this world has no idea—
Who I am.
And what darkness I've fought to reach this point.
But if my sister's truly here…
Then this isn't just a second chance.
This is fate.
⋆｡°✩₊˚☽˚₊✩°｡⋆｡°✩₊˚☽˚₊✩°｡⋆｡°✩₊˚☽˚₊✩°｡⋆｡°✩₊˚☽˚₊✩°｡⋆｡°✩₊˚☽˚₊✩°｡⋆｡°✩₊˚☽˚₊✩°｡
They walked through the halls in silence—until the chamber of the Kulapati opened before them.
A sanctum of knowledge and judgment.
Here, the Gurukul itself spoke through its silence.
Inside, ancient scrolls lined the stone walls.
Light filtered through lattice windows, touching every surface with golden reverence.
Ved stood tall—but uncertain.
Kulapati Vedananda turned, voice calm yet firm. "So… you are the one who did all those things?"
Ved blinked, unsure what he meant.
>What… things?
"…." He remained silent, his face a mask of confusion.
"Yes, Kulapati Vedanand. It is him. But it looks like he truly doesn't know." Acharya Dhanvantri offered a knowing smile—glazed to Devansh—continued. "It is him, isn't it, Anant?"
Devansh stepped forward, eyes clear. "He doesn't remember it all. But yes, it's him."
Ved stared at Devansh, baffled—hurt flashing in his eyes.
>Why is brother confirming something I don't even understand? What exactly did I do?
>Why am I being questioned like this on my first day at the Gurukul after so long time?
His thoughts spiraled, but took a shaky breath and tried to speak with as much control as he could muster.
"Kulapati Vedananda, Acharya Dhanvantri—if I may... What offense have I committed to warrant such questioning? This is my first day in the Gurukul after—"
But before he could finish, Kulapati Vedananda's stern expression softened. His lips curled into a rare smile—one filled with something unexpected.
Pride.
"You are not being accused, Ved Arya. You are being recognized."
His words were gentle, but heavy with meaning. "You solved the unsolvable—problems in logic, mathematics, elemental flow—not only solving them, but offering alternate solutions—with elegance and clarity."
Acharya Dhanvantri stepped forward, equal admiration shining in his voice.
"In Ayurveda, your grasp is extraordinary. You created formulations none of our wisest scholars thought possible. Your gift is rare, Ved."
He paused thoughtfully before adding. "You may not rival Dev Goenka—yet—but your mind is… extraordinary."
Ved stood silent.
The confusion and tension that had gripped him now morphed into something new — understanding. His brows furrowed. A flicker of frustration passed through him.
He took a slow breath. Collected his thoughts.
"Kulapati. Acharya. Devansh," he said firmly, meeting their eyes. "Your mysterious behavior earlier—it shocked not only me, but also the shishyas of the Gurukul. If I am to be praised… why all the mystery?
The drama?"
He looked directly into Kulapati's eyes, his voice calm but pointed. A beat of silence.
Kulapati tried to clear the point. "We do this because—"
He opened his mouth to explain, but Devansh came forward, giving a hand.
"Kulapati, if I may?"
Vedananda gave a small nod.
Devansh turned to Ved, expression solemn.
"You always said you didn't want the spotlight. They tried to honor that. But… your return? It excited them. They couldn't hide it. So… it came out strange."
He bowed lightly. "I apologize—for all of us. I ask your forgiveness on behalf of the Kulapati and Acharya—the fault is mine."
Then a sly grin tugged at his lips—watching Ved's face twist in brief panic, he added in a playful, exaggerated tone:
"O revered one, I have erred. In my ignorance, I crossed the bounds of dharma. I folded my hands and seek your forgiveness. May your heart be kind and your mind merciful."
He pressed his palms together in a mock-namaskara, his grin mischievous.
Ved blinked, lips twitching — half in disbelief, half in irritation.
He had heard such words before.
From scrolls. From sages in passing.
But he said it with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and joined his hands in an exaggerated namaskara.
Before he could respond—
The chamber doors burst open.
Acharyas—robed, curious, eager—flooded the room.
And Ved—for a moment—stood perfectly still.
In the eye of it all—
Stunned. Excited.
Kulapati Vedananda frowned. "Control yourselves!"
But they didn't. Excitement surged like wildfire.
Acharya Mahakaal Astrajnani, Acharya of Shaastra and Dhaunrveda, raised his voice. "We heard Ved Arya is back!"
And then—chaos.
Verbal war broke out among the Acharyas:
Acharya Vaidyanathan Jyotirmaan, Acharya of Divya Vidya, declared:
"His spiritual radiance belongs under my guidance—the celestial energies beckon him!"
Acharya Siddharaja Mahavratin, Acharya of Riddhi Siddhi Vidya, countered:
"Riddhi and Siddhi awaken in him—I sensed it from afar! His destiny is with me."
Acharya Nakshatraketu, Acharya of Antariksha Gyaan & Brahma-Raah Nirdeshak, stepped forward:
"I charted his astral path. It aligns with constellations unknown to most—he belongs in the stars!"
Acharya Atmavid Karmaanvaya, Acharya of Samskara Rasayanvidya, spoke with conviction:
"His karma patterns are anomalous. His soul is layered, unfinished—he must study alchemy with me."
Acharya Mahakaal, grizzled and booming, growled:
"Are you all blind? He's got the spirit of a warrior! His body remembers the bow—Dhaunurveda will welcome him!"
Acharya Vaayudeva Shariravedin, Acharya of Tatva-Pariyavaran Vidya, raised a gentle objection:
"He breathes with the wind's rhythm. Nature speaks through him. Let him learn balance from me."
Acharya Lokantarika Sutratmak, Acharya of Rahasyagya Lokakhyanacharya, added darkly:
"He remembers fragments of the Lost Ages. I will help him remember the rest."
Devansh leaned towards Acharya Dhanvantri, grinning with mischief:
"Why are you knocked out? Or you don't want to recruit Ved into your department?"
Firing the spirit of Acharya Dhanvantri.
Acharya Dhanvantri, Acharya of Ayurveda, chimed in the verbal war:
"I've seen his alchemy and medical knowledge. He's destiny to become a great sage in ayurveda."
Acharya Agniparikshit, Acharya of Agnipariksha and Diksha-Vidhaan, grim and intense, concluded:
"He shall pass the initiations first. Only then will the truth reveal itself."
Kulapati Vedananda raised a single hand.
Silence fell like a blade.
He turned—first to Ved, then to Devansh.
"Acharya Agniparikshit is right.
As the boy has returned. But before his course is chosen… Let the boy's innate energy choose for him."
And in that moment—with the eyes of legends upon him—Ved stood on the threshold of something greater.
He is no longer merely a student anymore.
He was becoming a name the world would one day remember.
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[1] Dharma: A multifaceted concept in Indian philosophy referring to one's righteous duty, moral path, and the natural order that sustains the universe.
[2] Namaskara: A traditional gesture of greeting, respect, or reverence in Indian culture, often involving folded hands and a slight bow.