As I want you to know, the chakras awaken after the appearance of the Man-God—the Immovable, Dhruva. After that, humans across the earth start to wake their chakras, personality-locked and element-based. They are:
Stone Chakra — based on strength and earth attributes.
Blaze Chakra — based on endurance and fire attributes.
Volt Chakra — based on agility and electricity attributes.
Soul Chakra — heart; vitality and healing attributes.
Echo Chakra — sound; manipulate sound as you please.
Mind Chakra — mental fortitude; those who activate it can manipulate surroundings and create illusions.
Crown Chakra — gods; they blend reality and perform miracles humanity thought impossible.
Dhruva was a different kind. After his disappearance, no one in this timeline reached that state again; that happened a century ago. After that, people split and all that bullshit happens:
Channelers who awaken chakras, Dulls who don't, the Order of the Hammer and the Outcasts, the formation of C.O.S.M.O.S.—all of it.
To identify suitable people to fight interstellars, they made a ranking system to pick potential individuals. But that only added discrimination to an existing system. Like society split into Order and Outcasts, C.O.S.M.O.S. divides people into E, D, C, B, A, S, SS—based on how many chakras you cracked open.
And me? I'm not a channeler. I'm an Outcast. All I want is to find the bastard who made my mother cry and feel pain until her last breath, and kill him until he reaches hell. For that I have to get into C.O.S.M.O.S.—they're the ones who killed her. Why they killed her and this Vellory kid mess is just a bonus I didn't sign up for, but it doesn't matter anymore. Seeing how those golden-spoon punks move through life with liberty and careless pleasure—I need that to fulfill my revenge.
"Uncle, do whatever you wish, but that doesn't change who I am," I say. Arjun Vellory simply answers, "Start."
At his words, all the candidate members, including the five great-house prodigies, begin attacking me. They range from E-rank to D-rank and they come at me first.
I put my daggers back into its sheath. Like why should I use weapons against these punks.
From the crowd, one of them says, "Yeah, look at that bastard—stunned by our force." Another answers, "Of course. How he would be stunned because of the thought of he going die like a dog"
Not just them—everyone wears that confidence, because they think they're fighting an Outcast. The two of them launch at me with their weapons;
'THHHUUUUDDDDD'
I kick them and send them flying several feet.
Everyone gasps. "Fine—yeah, it's true. Dogs can't do anything when surrounded—" I cut them off.
"I'm not a dog,you bitches. Reverse that word,that's who I am"
The prodigies' eyes—full of attitude and lethargy—shift. They finally see they're not facing an ordinary target.
Then what—every one of those fuckers swarms me like flies. Kill the outsider, right? Not new. This is Tuesday for me. Wednesday, too. Day-to-day.
They close in cautious now, chakras primed. Stone users rush—easy; I kick one and send him sailing. Blaze types come next; I kick another, no effort, just a tidy shove. Volt users try to move fast—flashy—but not fast enough. I kick them where it counts. They're all E-rank fodder.
Ajay Meer watches from his VIP box, arms folded. Arjun Vellory slips back from the grounds into the VIP box like a shadow taking shape. Ajay calls down, "Seems you're interfering a lot with C.O.S.M.O.S. these days." with stern face like he is not liking it.
Arjun's eyes find me. Cold. "Do you need an explanation?"
Ajay: "No. But one thing—how did you conclude he isn't your nephew?"
Arjun's face tightens. "Do you know why my brother's son ran away?" His tone claws at the air. Ajay doesn't answer, so Arjun keeps going. "He didn't run away. He was banished from the Vellory household."
Ajay: "What?"
Arjun: "Yes. He had no talent—worthless. An insult to our name. My brother and I cast him before the world gets to know about his worthlessness.We couldn't have that stain on our blood." Ajay's eyes go narrow; Arjun's voice hardens. "We killed him."
Ajay chokes on the word. "What?"
Arjun shrugs, like admitting a chore.
Ajay thinks to himself "that's how an life becomes here no love or trust just pride and name" And
Arjun Vellory continues"Technically—we hired someone. Letting him live would tarnish our reputation. So no, he isn't Adhitya Vellory."
Ajay: "If he's not a Vellory then—?"
Arjun cuts him off, voice dead: "He's an existence that should not be allowed to live."
They swarm me like flies—because an outcast with power is a sin they can't digest Not a single one of them wonders how the hell I got this strong; they only bothered by who I am: a stain that must be scrubbed out. Fine. Their disgust doesn't matter. I want one thing—revenge—and I'm not here to educate anyone.
I'm mowing through them, knives moving, feet barely touching the floor. E-ranks fall like thrown garbage. D-ranks try something clever and wind up with holes where they used to be. It's almost boring—until it isn't.
A blow cuts in from the side and sends me skidding across the dirt. I get up and eat another hit that launches me back again. Vikram—stone-arm half-hardened, face full of that privileged smirk—steps forward, chest puffed. An electrified jab cracks my ribs from behind; Nagul's grin flashes as his Volt Chakra sings across my skin. A sibilant echo slices through the air and my knee goes weak—Neha's voice, clinical and cruel. Flames lick my flank; Ranveer's Blaze Chakra smells like singed hair and threat.
They line up like some ceremonial execution squad, each grin a promise. "Embrace your death, rat," Ranveer sneers.
"That's my line, you bitch," Vikram snarls.
"Heh heh—fight all you want. Whoever kills that bastard gets the glory," Neha purrs, already counting her prizes.
They're busy trading insults, convinced I'm finished, and that's their mistake. I'm breathing hard, bruises blooming, but something else is waking. "So all of you use your skills, right?" I spit between teeth. "Then why not me?"
Their laughter dies when my voice drops and my eyes go flat. Void eyes—no light, only cold geometry. The air tastes electric; a cold ripple runs up spines. "What is this?" Neha whispers. Nagul's grin curdles. Vikram and Ranveer grind their teeth.
My vision peels back their flesh: chakra cores pulsing, vital seams glowing like weak wiring. I see the gap in their guard, the tendon under the knee that hates being struck, the soft belly they protect with bravado. I don't think. I move.
"Let's start over,"
I don't want to break them. Not completely. Let them have their nights and their pretty little lives — but they'll learn fear. From me. From now on they won't look down on anyone without thinking twice.
So I make them kneel.
I drive my fist into Vikram Vellory's abdomen. Clean, brutal. Ranveer gets one under the solar plexus that folds him in half. Neha catches a strike just below the throat — precise, not lethal; humiliation is the point. Nagul eats two blows, one to the gut and one under the thorax that drops him to his knees.
They hit the dirt, groaning and gasping, faces split by raw, ugly shame.
"How—?" Neha chokes.
"How can you—?" Vikram and Ranveer sputter, the words tasting like defeat.
"Don't worry, kids," I tell them, voice low and hard. "Time to kneel before your King!!"
That finishes them. Pride snaps. Heads hit the ground like stones. The look on their faces is everything I wanted.
Then a leg connects with me — sideways, full force. I fly through air, tasting sand and metal, slam down hard. I roll, muscles screaming, and haul myself up on trembling knees.
A tall shadow moves toward me — broad, unnerving, like a building cutting across light. I don't make out a face. Doesn't matter. I square my shoulders, ready to tear whatever belongs to that leg off.
A window flashes across my vision.
DANGER ALERT!! DANGER ALERT!! DANGER ALERT!!
Never seen that before. Not even Victor's hacks glow like this. The warning hums through my bones. My skin crawls.
The shadow slips — appears — right in front of me. Calm as glass. He looks at me like I'm a sleeping child.
"Sleep, boy," he says.
His fist hits my head. Hard. The world folds like a cheap bed.
I drop into a void — no ground, no light, just the humming ache of nothing. Floating. Weightless. Nameless. For a beat I am blank.
Then the bastard's face is there. Cold, amused, watching like he's rated my performance.
"I was waiting to meet you as soon as this problem was over… but you showed up first, the great asshole sucker, Vashir "