Morning rays filtered in through the frost-covered windows of Om's room. The snow outside glistened under the golden light, but inside, the air pulsed with something else entirely—raw, silent energy.
In the center of the room, Om sat in a meditative pose, eyes closed, palms resting on his knees. A strange metallic object hovered before him—a seismic drum, humming faintly as if syncing itself with Om's breath.
Inside his consciousness, a familiar voice echoed.
[Master, the experiment is successful.]
Om exhaled slowly, his focus unwavering.
"Good," he whispered within his mind. "Now tell me... if the battle were to happen now, what's our chance against him?"
There was a pause, brief but calculated. Zero's voice returned with its ever-neutral tone.
[Assuming Mr. Raj uses his weapon— whip—whose abilities are still unknown, and factoring in his probable concealment of full strength…]
[Estimated win probability: 30%.]
Om didn't flinch. His eyes remained closed, his breathing steady.
"As expected."
[Do you wish to simulate new combat sequences based on recent enhancements?]
Om slowly opened his eyes, irises sharper than ever, glinting like obsidian shards.
"We finally have a counter," he said, rising to his feet. "Still, it's not something we can rely on. We're only lucky this time."
[Probability supports that conclusion. Luck played a marginal yet significant role.]
"Exactly."
He stretched his arms, rotating his shoulders. His movements were fluid, controlled—a far cry from the frail boy he was mere days ago.
[Master, tomorrow is the scheduled duel with Mr. Raj.]
"I know," Om said, adjusting his gloves. "But I'm not the same boy. And neither are the stakes."
He pulled a hoodie over his head.
"Let's go out. I want to visit my old school today."
A few minutes later, outside the main building of the Facility, Om walked beside Sara. Snow crunched beneath their shoes, the cold air brushing against their faces.
Sara wore her usual secretary outfit—professional, practical, slightly overworked. Om, on the other hand, was dressed in a grey tracksuit with gloves and a hood, looking more like a casual jogger than an impending warrior.
"I don't think that tracksuit's warm enough for this kind of weather," Sara said, eyeing him with a hint of concern.
Om chuckled, adjusting the zipper near his neck.
"After the enhancements, I barely feel cold. My body's adapting faster than I thought."
Sara raised an eyebrow. "That's… impressive. Terrifying, but impressive."
A silence lingered before she asked again, lightly, "Do you want me to drop you to school?"
Om shook his head without hesitation. "No. I'm going alone."
Sara tilted her head. "Alone? But it's far. Even by car it takes—wait…" She narrowed her eyes. "Don't tell me you're planning to run there."
Om was already stretching his legs and hopping in place like a professional sprinter.
"Bingo," he said with a smirk.
Sara stared. "You're serious?"
Om nodded.
There was something honest in his energy, something Sara hadn't seen before. He wasn't cocky—but confident. Not reckless—but resolute.
Sara sighed and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a sleek black card.
"Take this."
Om blinked. "What's that?"
"Expense card. It'll cover food, books, anything you need. Narad has authorized it for both you and Raj."
Om took the card, unsure. "Are you sure? Isn't that too much?"
Sara shook her head. "No. You're part of the Facility now. Your needs are our responsibility. Besides…" She smirked, "Raj has probably already used half his balance on snacks and OTTs."
Om laughed softly. "That does sound like him."
Sara smiled but then tilted her head thoughtfully. "Also… anything else you need from me before you go?"
Om hesitated for a second. Then looked her in the eyes.
"Yes. A favor."
Moments later, Om stood alone outside the massive Facility gate.
The gate was a fortress in itself—twelve feet tall, with layered steel plates and reinforced scanning systems. Armed guards watched silently from above the posts, their faces hidden behind frost-covered visors.
Om looked back one last time at the Facility behind him. The endless walls, the high-security doors, the towering watchtowers.
It was not a school.
Not a research lab.
Not a hospital.
It was something else.
"…This place," he muttered to himself, "high-level security, military staff, experimental tech, Inheritors... It feels like a black-site."
He narrowed his eyes.
"A secret facility."
[Master, if you'd like, I can attempt a full-system hack and retrieve the core files.]
Om didn't respond immediately. He stared at the building for a long time.
"…You can hack into it?"
[Affirmative. With a high success rate. Shall I proceed?]
He closed his eyes, then shook his head.
"No. We don't need trouble. At least, not yet. The secrets of this place will reveal themselves when they need to."
Om turned.
Ahead of him lay a long, straight road blanketed in snow, flanked by tall, skeletal trees on either side. The world felt quiet—too quiet. Just the occasional rustle of wind and the soft crackle of frozen branches.
He stepped forward, then knelt down like an athlete at the starting line.
"Let's test it," he whispered, grinning under the hood. "Let's see how much faster I really am."
But before his first step, Zero chimed in.
[Master. A presence detected.]
"I know."
His eyes scanned the edge of the woods. A flicker of movement—a figure just barely visible behind the tree line.
"…I was expecting him. But this time he is not hiding his presence completely."
[Do you believe it is the one named Vasu?]
"Most likely. But he's not hostile. Just curious."
[Should we engage?]
"We don't have a chance against him. Let him watch."
And then—
Om launched forward, his body a blur. The snow beneath him erupted into powdery gusts as he dashed down the road.
Wind howled past his ears. His breath stayed steady. His muscles didn't burn. His heart didn't race.
Every movement was precise. Optimized.
"Zero," he said mid-sprint, "Track my vitals. Speed, stamina, reaction times."
[Understood.]
[Current pace: 68 kilometers per hour and rising.]
[Muscle tension: Minimal.]
[Heart rate: 98 bpm.]
Om grinned as he dodged a fallen tree limb on the road without slowing down.
His eyes tracked every crack in the pavement, every shift in wind.
"I'm faster than most. I think," he said.
[And more efficient.]
As he moved through the quiet wilderness, a strange feeling rose in his chest.
Not pride.
Not arrogance.
But… excitement.
For the first time in a long time, Om wasn't running from something.He was running towards something.
Nearly an hour later, Om stood in front of his school Entrance.