The next day, a high-level emergency meeting was convened.
Inside the grand conference hall of the Facility, tension rippled like static in the air. The long crystal glass table gleamed under the cold light of overhead panels. Seated around it were ten figures—Narad, Kashyapa, and eight others—six men and two women. Heads of the major families. Veterans of war. Politicians of influence.
Behind Narad, the younger generation stood silently—Bhanu, Sara, Vasu, Raj, and Ronnie. Apart from Ronnie, each of them bore the weight of yesterday's nightmare on their faces.
Ronnie glanced at each person seated around the table, trying to make sense of the gravity in the room.
"Why are all the heads here?" he thought, nervous.
"Why such urgency? Why now?"
An old woman with snowy hair, dressed in a crisp white sari and oversized round goggles, broke the silence.
"Why have we been summoned so hastily, Narad?" Her voice was brittle but commanding.
Kashyapa leaned forward with furrowed brows.
"Narad, are you alright? You look... troubled. Deeply."
Narad sighed, his shoulders slumping just slightly—an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability.
"Lady Ahilya, Mr. Kashyapa, all of you... thank you for coming."
He paused.
"Last night... Om and Vasu were ambushed in the woods."
The words dropped like a boulder in a still lake.
Kashyapa straightened in his seat, alarmed.
"You're saying Vasu's missing hand… was from the attackers?"
Narad slowly nodded.
"And the boy?" Kashyapa asked.
"Barely survived." The words were simple but heavy with implication.
A man in a pristine white suit, his French beard sharp and his voice sharper, scoffed.
"And we're panicking over a boy with no value? His inheritance is broken, isn't it?"
Ronnie's jaw clenched.
Bhanu's fists curled.
Sara's eyes flared with indignation.
Vasu stared at the man with quiet rage.
Raj's breath grew heavier, but none of them spoke. Their silence was louder than screams.
Narad's eyes flashed with fury. "Mr. Vakra, do you think the League of Evil sends assassins to kill just anyone?"
A hush fell across the room.
The name hung in the air like poison.
Kashyapa shot up from his seat. "You're saying the League is in our nation?"
Ahilya leaned forward. "There must be something unique about that boy, then. Why else would the League care?"
Kashyapa sat back slowly, as if the weight of this realization physically pressed down on him.
Narad took a breath. His voice was steady, but it trembled with buried anger.
"Years ago… Mr. Arnold came to us searching for an artifact. We denied him. That artifact was bonded to Om before assassination."
A heavy pause.
Then, holographic screens projected into the air above them, flickering to life with vivid images—forests scorched to ash, craters large enough to swallow people, molten grooves carved into the earth like scars, entire sections of land obliterated.
Silence returned. But it was different now. It wasn't confusion—it was disbelief. Horror. Dread.
"Are you telling us..." Vakra's voice was dry, weak. "That the League, and Mr. Arnold—the strongest known inheritor—joined forces to kill a child?"
Narad nodded. "Yes."
Ahilya frowned. "But the artifact… why would it choose a boy with a broken inheritance?"
Narad shrugged. "We tried. We offered that artifact to dozens of promising young inheritors. Not one was accepted. Until Om."
"That's all we know."
Silence again.
Then, a voice from behind. Ronnie stepped forward.
"How did he survive? Did someone rescue him?"
Bhanu replied quietly. "I found him. In the snow. He was half-dead."
Narad added, "But not before he fought back. He took on twenty Rathi-class assassins. Alone. He killed two. Crippled multiple."
Ronnie's eyes widened. Twenty Rathi… that wasn't a battle. That was suicide.
Narad gestured, and the screens shifted—now showing live footage of post-battle. Satellite and drone feeds zoomed over the obliterated battlefield.
Ahilya leaned forward, stunned.
"This... this is not the power of a broken inheritance."
Bhanu shook his head. "I'm a Rathi myself. Stronger than most Ati Rathi. And I wouldn't dare take on twenty Rathi assassins simultaneously."
His eyes scanned the others.
"If you've all seen Raj and Ronnie's spar. The scale of that battle? What Om endured wasn't lesser in any measure."
That was it. The last straw.
Raj stepped forward.
His aura ignited like a spark to gunpowder.
A wave of blood-red energy erupted from him, shaking the hall. The walls creaked. The lights flickered. Several elders clutched the arms of their chairs, sweat beading on their foreheads.
Even Narad, Bhanu, and Vasu took a step back instinctively.
Bhanu quickly placed a hand on Raj's shoulder. A calming weight. A silent warning.
The blood-red aura dimmed—but Raj's fury did not.
He summoned his whip.
It appeared in his left hand, humming with malice.
{Master, what now?}
Raj's eyes burned crimson.
"Mr. Narad... where did Om fight?"
Narad met his gaze. "Raj, I understand your anger. But we must act wisely. Recklessly chasing shadows helps no one."
Raj didn't move. His voice was calm. Too calm.
"Tell me. How strong do I need to be... to make them fear?"
Narad hesitated. Then replied quietly,
"You'd need to be an Ati Maharathi... at the very least. That's the level of the man who fought Vasu."
Raj closed his eyes.
The air trembled again.
"Yam-lok."
The word echoed like a divine command.
Suddenly, reality shifted.
Everyone—Narad, Kashyapa, Vakra, Ahilya, even the others in the room—felt it.
They were no longer in the conference hall.
Instead, they stood in Raj's territory.
Molten rocks cracked underfoot. Burning skeleton army marched through the haze. Ghostly mages whispered dark incantations as fire rained in the distance. Blackened skies stretched overhead, painted in hues of red and ash.
At the center, on a raised obsidian platform surrounded by jagged spikes, sat Raj—whip in one hand, a golden mace resting beside him.
He was draped in shadows, glowing with divinity and wrath. Like a god of judgment. A harbinger of death.
None dared move.
Even Narad and Bhanu were frozen in awe and terror.
Then came Raj's voice, booming across the burning realm.
"Is this enough… or do I need more?"