Chapter One: The Day the Sky Shifted
The city of Gwalior was warm with the colors of dusk. A dry breeze danced between narrow lanes and timeworn buildings, brushing past parked scooters and faded shopfronts. In a modest neighborhood nestled far from the city's commercial heart, seventeen-year-old Arpit Sharma adjusted the straps of his backpack and walked with steady pace down a cracked sidewalk.
His thoughts were lost in formulas and diagrams—biology, chemistry, physics—all swirling like ghosts of textbooks in his mind. He had taken a year off after high school, a common yet high-stakes decision: to attempt India's grueling pre-medical entrance exam, NEET. Like many, he bore the unspoken hopes of his middle-class family—a family he loved dearly.
The Sharmas lived in a two-bedroom flat on the second floor of a concrete house with peeling blue paint. His father, Mr. Sharma, worked as a bank clerk. His mother ran a tiffin service from home. His two elder sisters, Neha and Ananya, had already begun modest careers. They were happy, despite the daily struggles of money, bills, and the looming shadow of nosy relatives who never missed a chance to compare.
Today, however, something was wrong.
As Arpit turned into the alley that led to his home, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Luxury cars—sleek, foreign machines gleaming like polished obsidian—lined the entire lane. Bentleys. Rolls Royces. Lamborghinis. Number plates from Dubai, London, Zurich.
Even more unnerving were the men. Dozens of them. All clad in matte-black tactical gear—tight modular suits layered with carbon fiber plates, exoskeletal braces enhancing muscle movement, visors with scanning optics. They looked like they'd stepped out of Call of Duty game
Some had weapons. Some had dogs. All had the silence of lethal discipline.
As Arpit approached, several of them turned toward him. He froze, heart pounding.
Then, unexpectedly, the men stepped aside with synchronized precision.
A clear path opened.
They nodded.
Confused and uneasy, Arpit walked forward slowly, his sneakers brushing against the fine gravel. Neighbors and strangers stood behind barricades. Phones were recording. News vans were present. A female anchor from a well-known Hindi news channel was whispering breathlessly into a microphone.
"Kaun hai yeh ladka...?"
He ignored them and climbed the stairs to his home.
There were shoes outside. Dozens.
He opened the door.
Inside, every chair, every corner, every square foot of their small living room was occupied by people in tailored suits and regal saris. There were men and women whose faces he'd seen only in newspapers and TV panels—top billionaires, CEOs of global conglomerates, people with reputations larger than countries.
At the center of them all stood a man unlike any other.
He was tall, composed, and wore a French-cut suit with the old-world dignity of Versailles. White gloves. Polished shoes. A silver pocket watch tucked neatly.
He bowed slightly. "Master Arpit," he said in crisp, European-accented English. "I am Sebastien Leclair. I served your biological father as his most trusted aide."
Arpit stared, completely overwhelmed.
Sebastien continued, "These individuals are not strangers. They are your people. The council of elite minds and stewards who protect and manage your legacy."
"My what?" Arpit muttered.
The butler smiled faintly. "Your legacy, young master. For your real father… was not of this world. And neither, truly, are you."
A gasp rose among the room's occupants.
Sebastien gestured toward a briefcase resting on a pedestal. "Before we explain further, you must awaken."
He opened the case.
A vial containing a translucent, opalescent liquid rose slowly into the air, pulsing with gentle hums. The liquid shimmered with colors unknown to science—alive, as though aware.
The moment it touched air, it floated toward Arpit like a summoned spirit. He recoiled instinctively, but the substance was faster. It slipped into his chest.
He staggered.
Darkness swelled behind his eyes.
Then came a voice. Smooth. Familiar. And eternal.
"Greetings, Arpit. I am Astraeus—your Personal Ascendancy Interface. Your guardian, guide, and companion. This system is encoded with all knowledge, defensive mechanisms, luxury protocols, and astral abilities inherited from your father."
Arpit fell to his knees, eyes wide.
"You are now attuned to the Hierarch Protocol. Your wealth and reach extend beyond Earth, but to begin, you are granted access to liquid assets totaling 4,000 quantitrillion credits—equivalent to 700 Earth GDPs."
Sebastien knelt beside him. "Master Arpit… your father did not simply die. He ascended—transcending this world through astral technology. He left you everything. But there is one condition."
Arpit looked up, trembling. "What… what condition?"
The butler lowered his head solemnly. "You must now live apart from your adoptive family. They will be cared for, protected, and you may visit… but to fulfill your father's will, you must now step into the world he prepared for you."
A deep silence fell.
Behind him, his mother sobbed softly. Mr. Sharma placed a hand on her shoulder. Neha and Ananya both looked at him—one teary-eyed, the other trying to be strong.
Arpit turned around.
His voice cracked. "I never wanted this. I just wanted to… study. Make you proud. Live normally."
Mr. Sharma stepped forward and hugged him tightly. "You've always made us proud, beta. But maybe… this is your fate."
Ananya touched his shoulder. "Make your real father proud too."
Neha smiled. "And don't forget us when you're flying spaceships or whatever."
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
He hugged them all. For a long, long time.
Then, with trembling legs, he followed Sebastien outside.
A white Mansory Rolls Royce with an astral insignia on the hood awaited him. The door opened automatically.
He entered.
As the car drove into the horizon, the sky above Gwalior seemed to shimmer.
And Arpit Sharma—the boy who studied bones and plants—began his journey into a universe waiting to remember him.
[End of Chapter One]