Ronnie and Bhanu vanished from sight, their bodies swallowed by the ceremonial light.
The attention of the hall snapped back to the inheritance altar.
Om stepped away from the Monolith. His movements were slow, uncertain. As he walked toward the incharge, his legs felt heavier than ever. His face was drained of color—an empty canvas of crushed hope. Yet somewhere deep within, a fragile sliver of belief remained.
Maybe… maybe these strange symbols are something rare. Maybe it's just not understood yet.
He stood in front of the incharge.
"Mr. I'm done," Om said, voice almost a whisper.
The incharge didn't look up from his tablet. "Then, what is your inheritance?"
Om hesitated. "Sir… I don't know. Some kind of symbols keep appearing in front of me, floating. But nothing else happens."
That got the man's attention.
He looked up sharply, scanning Om's expression. His brows furrowed as if trying to recall a distant memory.
The incharge's eyes widened—but only for a second.
"Kid… I'm sorry," he said, lowering his voice, "but what you've received is a broken inheritance."
"Broken?" Om echoed, as if the word didn't belong to this world.
The incharge nodded grimly. "It means… your inheritance came to you in fragments. Damaged. Torn between worlds, or blocked by something older and more dangerous."
Om's throat tightened. "Can it be fixed?"
The man shook his head slowly. "Out of hundreds of thousands of cases worldwide, there have only been five recorded broken inheritances. Not one has been fully repaired. They're unpredictable. Wild. Some inherit fragments of divine knowledge… others, just echoes."
He paused, then softened his tone.
"But once—just once—a broken inheritance awakened control over the primordial element of void. Another could touch the 'soulstream.' So who knows? You might be something greater. Or... nothing at all."
Om returned to his seat in silence.
The students had heard everything. Their whispers filled the hall like swarming insects.
"Broken?"
"That's bad luck…"
"He's basically cursed."
But before the comments could sting further, Raj stepped between Om and the others.
The principal approached as well and placed a gentle hand on Om's shoulder.
"My boy," he said, "there is no shame in what you've received. The world values more than power. You've already shown resilience—and that's rare."
Om nodded weakly, but said nothing.
Just then, twin flashes of light reappeared—Ronnie and Bhanu had returned.
The class erupted in applause for Ronnie. Students crowded him, asking about his powers, his experience. Bhanu gave a quick nod to the principal.
"Sir," he said in a low voice, "after the trials, Ronnie will join C.U.I. regardless of classification."
More cheers followed.
But only Raj remained beside Om.
He understood. More than anyone else, he knew what the ceremony had meant for Om.
It was everything.
The last strand of hope for a boy with a fragile body and a broken lineage.
Raj hugged Om without a word.
"You're strong," he whispered. "Anyone else would've shattered by now."
Om said nothing… but a tear slipped from his eye.
Raj reached into his pocket and handed Om a his book.
"Here. Read it. It will help you."
Om took it with trembling hands.
The final group of students approached the altar. One by one, inheritances were granted.
Then it was Raj's turn.
He stepped into the circle, calm and unshaken.
The moment his hand touched the Monolith, the light cracked.
A violent pulse of black energy exploded outward. Students were thrown back. Chairs overturned. The sky continent trembled beneath them.
Thunder roared. The clouds above twisted into a vortex of storm and shadow.
A rift opened in the sky—and from it, a hooded figure emerged from the W.I.A. headquarters. No one recognized him, but his very presence screamed power.
With a casual wave, he silenced the storm.
A transparent soul-shield enveloped Raj as the hooded man turned toward the W.I.A. tower—and vanished.
Silence fell.
Raj stood still, glowing with faint black threads of energy that snaked up his arms and spine.
The incharge approached slowly. "Mr… what is your inheritance?"
Raj's lips curled into a grin.
He cracked his neck and said with quiet thunder, "Don't get scared when I tell you."
He raised his hand—black mist coiling around it—and let out a wild laugh.
"My inheritance… is the God of Death—Yama."
Gasps echoed. A thick silence fell—then, with a flick of his wrist, a black whip materialized.
He snapped it once in the air.
Screams followed. Every student within twenty meters clutched their heads in agony. Some collapsed, bleeding from the nose. Others simply passed out.
Only Ronnie stood unaffected.
Bhanu flashed forward like lightning and punched Raj's arm, knocking the whip away.
"Fool! This isn't the time or place for that!" he shouted.
Medics rushed to the scene.
"Control yourself," Bhanu growled.
Om watched from the side, stunned.
He clenched his fists. If I can't do it… then maybe Raj can.
His strength. My mind.
Together, we might be unstoppable.
Then a voice rang from the sky:
"If the Himalaya Nation is done, please clear the area. Others are waiting."
The principal nodded solemnly. "Time to leave."
On their way to the aircraft, Bhanu whispered, "Sir… the world was watching. Two god-level inheritances? We just changed the global balance."
The principal sighed. "And not all of them are protected by factions. We must be ready."
Back on board, students tried to process everything. Raj sat beside Om.
The principal called out, "Students! Mr. Bhanu has a few final words."
Bhanu stepped forward.
"Congratulations, everyone. Instead of one month, In three months, you'll face the Inheritor Trials. This will decide your classification and your eligibility for elite institutions."
"You'll be judged by professionals, scouted by universities, and ranked globally."
He paused, eyes scanning each student.
"In two days, you'll receive an email. It will ask for your weapon of choice. This weapon will be personalized—shaped by your answers."
"Think carefully. You only get one chance."
Bhanu bids farewell.
Ronnie hesitated… then walked toward Om.
But when he reached him, he stopped.
Both Om and Raj were fast asleep.
Om's head rested lightly on Raj's shoulder—and though asleep, tears still glistened down his cheeks.