"Did you feel that?" he asked quietly.
Pitamah's voice answered inside his mind, alert.
"What?"
"I felt Soma."
Pitamah's tone sharpened. "Here? Impossible. This city has no known reserves. I sense no Kaal presence."
"But I did," Raghav replied, already rising. "Make me invisible to humans."
The transformation came instantly — blue light rippling over him, suit forming, features shifting into the familiar silhouette. Then launched upward — silent, unseen.
He expanded his senses — a gentle pulse of awareness spreading across the city. The trace was faint but unmistakable: Soma, ancient and potent, moving through the streets like a hidden heartbeat.
He landed softly in an empty, dimly lit corner of the the disaster zone, a place ravaged by Carl incident three years ago, which took away one third of Mumbai's land area. Leaving it desolated destroyed an infestation with crime.
Raghav landed near a destroyed building and looked ahead. Four cars sat in a loose circle, headlights off, engines idling. Men in dark suits stood between them — tense, voices low.
Raghav summoned a small, glowing blue fish — one of his familiars — and sent it drifting forward like a silent scout. It hovered near the group, carrying their words back to him.
"I don't recall agreeing to a cartel showing up for our deal," one man said — calm, local accent.
"Neither were we told the location would change last minute," replied another — heavier accent, perhaps Middle Eastern.
"Fair enough. Here's the product. Where's the payment?"
"We verify first."
"That wasn't the arrangement. You know how dangerous this is."
"We understand danger."
The first man opened a car trunk. Inside — sleek, modern cylinders, faintly glowing with an otherworldly sheen.
Raghav's eyes sharpen.
"That's Soma," he whispered, and looked up.
" And those are terrorist."
Pitamah's voice was grim. "Humans with Soma? How? All known sources are sealed behind barriers."
"Either fake… diluted… or someone gave it to them. We need to know."
The exchange began — cylinders for cases of cash. Raghav moved.
He stepped into the open space between them. The invisibility dropped.
The men froze.
"Krrish!" one shouted.
"I'm not," Raghav snapped. He doesn't like that name.
Guns came up instantly. Bullets flew — harmless sparks against his suit. He stood unmoving, almost amused.
"Stop. It tickles."
The firing faltered. Confusion spread. The main players scrambled toward their cars, engines roaring.
Raghav sighed.
He moved — faster than sight. A man tried to punch him, Raghav ducked instinctively, and gently pushed him on the stomach. The man rocketed forward.
" Uhh! I put too much force." Other man didn't stop they kept firing at him. Raghav didn't like the continues firing at his face, he didn't like it. He relsed, blue shockwave that pushed everyone away, and he saw the soma car accelerated away. Raghav followed — a streak of blue. He caught the rear bumper, lifted the vehicle off the ground with one hand. Inside, panicked faces stared up. Guns fired point-blank at his face — bullets flattened uselessly, but making him little uncomfortable. He tore through the glass, and grabbed the man's gun, and crushed it.
He set the car down gently, blocking the road.
"Stay," he said. And heard voice of old man in his head.
" I've called the reinforcment, check others as well, stop them before they spread it."
" They are just two cars, I can stop them." And just as soon as he said that, the car multiplies, it got joined my two other cars, with same numbers and same features.
" I can still manage that. " And then four more cars joined the prey.
" Still can. " And then it got joined by eight more cars.
" What the- where did they get this many cars?" Said, raghav in frustration.
" They are in the middle car. Stop them." And raghav said.
" Some is in the middle." The old man said immediately.
" Ok! But who are they?" He asked himself, and flew forward, toward the convoy of cars, forgeting to check the fallen man behind, and ignoring a prying eyes on the building nearby.
The remaining cars moved in a tight line, splitting at every major turn — one peeling left, two right — a calculated tactic to scatter and confuse. Three vehicles had already broken away, disappearing into the side lanes of the old town.
In the central car — the one still carrying the leader and the last few Soma cylinders — the atmosphere was thick with fear. The leader stared at the glowing containers in his lap. His men spoke in rapid, hushed Arabic, voices edged with panic.
One of them finally voiced the question hanging over them.
"Is he the man they warned us about?"
All eyes turned to the leader. No one answered.
Then — a distant explosion. A car behind them erupting in flames.
Another man muttered, "He detonated it."
The leader shook his head sharply. "No. He doesn't need to."
A second blast — closer this time. Screams carried on the wind.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. "He's taking them out one by one."
Panic rose like smoke.
Ahead, one of the lead cars swerved sharply. In what felt like slow motion, a blue figure dropped from the sky and landed directly in its path.
The car struck him head-on.
Metal crumpled. Glass shattered. The vehicle spun violently and slammed into an electric pole with a burst of sparks. The blue figure hadn't moved an inch.
Inside the middle car, everyone froze.
" Drive fast." The leader yelled, and the driver accelerated. The car sped up, past in a blur of red taillights and screeching tires. Inside, panicked shouts erupted — fear raw in every voice.
Raghav watched from the ground. Broken car parts scattered arount him, sparks still popping from broken wires. The single driver sat slumped against the steering wheel — conscious, breathing hard, but unharmed.
Raghav crouched beside the open driver's door.
"They're terrorists, right?" he asked quietly.
Pitamah's voice answered in his mind, calm and measured.
"Yes. Most of them."
Raghav stayed silent for a long moment, staring at the distant fleeing vehicles.
Then he spoke again — voice low, almost to himself.
"You know… when you have a friend who lost his father in a terrorist attack, you tend to care very little about their well-being."
Pitamah's tone held quiet understanding.
"What are you trying to say?"
Raghav's gaze hardened — not cruel, but resolute.
"Do they eat fish?"
A faint ripple of blue light passed over his hand.
The remaining cars tore down the open one way road toward the city, engines roaring, headlights cutting through the dark. They were fifteen minutes from the urban sprawl — close enough to vanish into traffic, far enough that the empty fields around them felt like a trap closing in.
Inside the lead car, the men bickered in tense, clipped Arabic.
"We should have done the handover in the secluded spot," one muttered. They were regreting there decision to not follow the previous plans.
"Too late now," another snapped. "Just drive. We're almost there."
The driver gripped the wheel tighter, eyes flicking to the side mirrors. Nothing behind them.
Then — a faint blue glow flickered in his peripheral vision, right outside the passenger window.
He turned sharply. Empty field. Nothing.
He looked back at the road. The glow came again — stronger, pulsing. He glanced over once more — still nothing.
The light returned a third time.
His eyes widened.
He grabbed the shoulder of the man beside him and pointed frantically outside.
The others followed his finger.
A massive blue fin sliced through the ground parallel to them — glowing, enormous, like a shark gliding just beneath the surface of the earth. The asphalt rippled faintly in its wake.
Trees briefly blocked the view. The driver forced his eyes forward — but kept stealing terrified glances sideways.
The fin reappeared — closer.
Panic surged. The driver slammed the brakes. Tires locked. The car fishtailed, rear-ending the vehicle behind them with a metallic crunch.
Before anyone could react, the shark erupted from the ground — jaws of pure blue energy wide — and clamped down on the trailing car. In one smooth, powerful motion, it dragged the vehicle off the road and out of sight. No screams. No blood. Just the groan of twisting metal and sudden silence.
Inside the lead car, terror exploded.
The boss shoved forward, staring at the cylinders in his lap.
"Charge one! Now!"
"But sir—"
"I said charge it!"
"But it could—"
"Charge them!" the leader yelled.
A trembling hand reached for one cylinder. Fingers fumbled with the seal. A faint red glow began to build inside — unstable, angry.
Outside, the shark's fin sliced back onto the road behind them — closing fast.
The boss pushed his men aside and stared at the containers.
"Faster!"
The shark rose higher — its massive head now partially visible — eyes glowing with cold intelligence. It accelerated.
The driver screamed. "It's coming back!"
The shark surged forward — jaws opening again.
High above the open road, Raghav hovered — invisible to the world below — watching the desperate chase unfold like a live show. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite everything.
"Wish I had my phone with me," he muttered, half to himself.
Pitamah's voice came back dry and pointed.
"Why does your immature side always surface when seriousness is required?"
Raghav raised an eyebrow, amused.
"True. But that sarcasm? I'm actually serious."
Pitamah didn't sound convinced.
Then Raghav's expression shifted — eyes narrowing sharply.
"They're doing something with the Soma."
He dropped lower, closing the distance.
Below, the shark familiar rose higher — its massive blue head now partially visible above the ground, jaws glinting with energy. It surged forward, speed increasing.
The men in the last car opened fire — bullets sparking uselessly off the glowing form. The shark didn't slow. It charged — slamming into one car and forcing it off the road in a controlled skid. Another followed — tires screeching, rolling once into the dirt. No flames. No screams of agony. Just disabled vehicles and stunned occupants.
The shark closed on the final trailing car.
Its jaws opened wide.
The men inside panicked — one hurling a cylinder out the back door. The container glowed angry red, pulsing violently.
The shark swallowed it whole.
A sharp, contained explosion bloomed behind them — shockwave rippling outward. Raghav felt the force slam into him like a wall. He was hurled backward, tumbling through air before crashing hard into soft farmland. The impact carved a long furrow in the earth.
Darkness pressed in for a heartbeat.
Then — a gentle memory surfaced: a woman's voice, warm, calling his name. His eyes snapped open.
He pushed himself up, shaking off dirt and pain.
Pitamah's voice returned — calm, but with quiet emphasis.
"You underestimated your opponent. Again."
Raghav rubbed his temple, half-grinning through the ache.
"You know sarcasm doesn't suit you, Bheeshma Pitamah. I'm learning."
He looked around — and froze.
He had crash-landed in a goat pen. One particularly unimpressed goat stood directly in front of him — chewing slowly — standing in the ruined remains of its food bucket.
Raghav blinked.
"What?"
The goat stared back, unimpressed.
Raghav raised both hands.
"Relax. I'll buy you a new one."
The goat bleated once — clearly unconvinced.
Raghav rose into the air again. Behind him, he heard the goat let out what sounded suspiciously like a curse.
Pitamah's voice, dry:
"He cursed you."
"Ignore that," Raghav said. "How long was I out?"
"Three minutes."
"Where are they now?"
"In the city. And if that last cylinder detonates in a populated area…"
Raghav's jaw tightened.
"I know. But what are they doing with it — and why here?"
Pitamah's tone grew grave.
"Why don't we find out?"
Raghav nodded once — then accelerated at hyper speed, blue streak slicing through the night toward the city lights.