Aman shifted uneasily on his feet as the cuffs around his wrists dug into his skin. Beside him, Naina's jaw was set in a stubborn, furious line, her knuckles whitening from the tension.
The young man who called himself Vidhart watched them carefully from the platform above, his arms folded loosely — relaxed, almost casual — but there was a steel behind those eyes. A sharpness honed over years of surviving in a world like this.
He lifted a hand lazily.
"Unlock them," he said.
The guards hesitated.
"But sir—" one began.
"They could be spies. We brought them without full clearance—" another added, shifting nervously.
The lazy smile on Vidhart's face didn't change — but his voice sharpened like a blade.
"I said: Unlock them."
It wasn't a shout. It didn't have to be.
The guards stiffened and obeyed, keys clinking as the cuffs fell to the ground with a dull clatter.
Aman flexed his wrists, glaring at the soldiers. Naina, though freer, didn't relax even an inch.
"You expect us to trust you after being dragged here like prisoners?" Aman said, his voice steady but crackling with anger. "After being paraded through the city in chains?"
Vidhart only chuckled — a low, humorless sound.
"Fair enough," he said. "Come with me, then. See the truth for yourself."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode away, his long coat sweeping behind him. For a moment, Aman and Naina hesitated. Then — exchanging a look — they followed.
They walked through the massive underground complex. The place was alive — more alive than anything they'd seen since the Collapse.
Workshops clanged and sparked. Fighters trained with wooden spears and makeshift weapons. Children ran between tents, laughing in the dim light.
People believed here.
Vidhart pointed to them as they passed.
"These are not soldiers. They're survivors. Mechanics. Engineers. Teachers. Farmers. Fighters, yes — but because they have no choice. Because the Dominion took everything else from them."
He stopped by a giant mural painted on the cracked concrete wall. It showed a city burning, a blackened figure towering over crumbling skyscrapers — unmistakably the Commander.
"This is what we fight against," Vidhart said, his voice hard now. "And what we will one day bring down."
Aman stared at the mural, the firelight flickering across his face.
He didn't know if he could trust this man yet.
But he knew the enemy. And it was the same one. Slowly, Aman nodded.
Naina did too, the hardness in her eyes giving way to something else — hope, maybe. Or desperation.
"We'll help," Aman said quietly. "But first, we need to find our friends."
Vidhart's smile returned — smaller this time, but genuine.
"We will," he promised.
They sat down in the hall later, around a battered old table, and spoke in low, urgent voices. Aman and Naina told them everything — from the last normal day at school, the metro attack, the robotic knights, the fall of Delhi, their long, brutal journey through the ruins, their capture at the GT Karnal Bypass, the months in the garbage mines.
Vidhart listened, face unreadable.
But when they spoke of the metro — the old underground systems no one spoke of anymore — something flickered in his eyes. Surprise. Recognition.
"You're telling the truth," He said at last.
"How can you be so sure?" Naina asked, cautious.
"Because," Vidhart said, voice heavy, "only the oldest of records — the ones Dominion buried — mention the Metro. And you... you're too young to even know it existed otherwise." He leaned forward.
"You two — and your friends — you don't belong to this time.
And that... might be the edge we've been waiting for."
He stood. "Rest tonight," he said. "Tomorrow, we start finding your people."
Meanwhile, back in Raghu and Janvi's home...
The small kitchen glowed warmly under low lights, a fragile island of safety in a sea of madness. Shivam, Aanchal, and Dikshant sat around the table, chewing slowly, still suspicious but too tired — and too grateful — to resist.
"Tell us," I finally said, my voice hoarse.
"What happened to this world?"
Raghu leaned back in his chair, running a tired hand through his graying hair.
"It started nearly seventy years ago," he said.
"Right here — in what you used to call the Indian subcontinent."
He poured water into cracked cups, his eyes distant as he spoke.
"Noctirum was discovered deep underground — an element no one had ever seen before. Shimmering like molten light. The scientists barely understood it, but they knew it was powerful. So, the Dominion — back then just a billionaire mining company — bought up the mines with government permission."
"Mining turned to research," Janvi added quietly.
"And research turned to conquest."
Raghu's hands clenched into fists.
"Within ten years, they created weapons powered by Noctirum. Suits. Machines. Horrors. They erased entire cities off the map — and when the world protested, the Dominion crushed them too."
"The United Nations?" Aanchal whispered. "The armies?"
"Gone," Raghu said. "Burned away. Broken."
"Today," Janvi said, her voice barely a whisper, "only seven cities survive — floating above the wastelands. The rest of Earth..." She shook her head.
"Mines. Garbage dumps. Slums full of 'grounders' — like you once were." The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Everything we had ever believed in — home, history, humanity — felt like it had turned to ash under our feet. I looked down at my trembling hands. What was left to fight for? Then I remembered Aman's defiant grin. Naina's determined glare. Dikshant's stubbornness. Aanchal's fierce laugh. Family. Friends.
That was enough.
Back under the floating city... As the rebel camp settled into sleep, Vidhart stood on the balcony overlooking the underground city. Aman and Naina had been given simple cots for the night, guarded — but not like prisoners anymore. An old man, wrapped in a frayed cloak, limped up to Vidhart's side. "You believe them?" the old man rasped.
"I do," Vidhart said.
"Why?"
Vidhart stared out into the dark, where murals of fallen cities stretched across broken stone walls.
"Because," he said, "they still speak of a world that had hope."
He closed his eyes, remembering the stories the old veterans whispered about —The last rebellion, fifty years ago. A million men and women rising up against the Dominion. The great battles in the skies. The final collapse when Commander Navek — newly risen, newly monstrous — personally slaughtered thousands, using Noctirum like a scythe through wheat. A rebellion crushed. A world silenced.
But maybe...Maybe it wasn't dead yet. Vidhart opened his eyes, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe it just needed a spark