Mumbai, 2025.
The city no longer looked like the one it once was. Great walls of steel and stone encircled the heart of the settlement, dotted with watchtowers where Awokened stood guard day and night. Beyond the walls stretched ruined skyscrapers, broken highways, and the ever-present danger of lurking monsters.
Inside, life carried on under the rule of guilds. Of them all, Tempest was the strongest—its symbol of a swirling storm painted across banners and carved into gates. To ordinary survivors, the guild meant protection, food, and a fragile sense of order. To others, it meant power and fear.
At the heart of Tempest's fortress stood the Roy family.
---
The training grounds echoed with the clash of steel and bursts of energy. Dust swirled as a young man skidded across the ground, sparks of power glowing around his fists.
"Again," Veer Roy muttered to himself, wiping blood from his lip. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on the towering opponent before him.
"Don't push too hard, Veer," said Jiya Roy, stepping forward, her blade wreathed in faint arcs of lightning. "You're not going to beat me by charging blindly. Think. Read the flow. The enemy will never fight fair."
Veer gritted his teeth. His sister was six years older, already a Tier Four Awokened like him, but she fought with a calm sharpness he struggled to match. Where his strikes were fire and fury, hers were precise, calculated—every move part of a plan.
"Stop lecturing me!" Veer snapped. He lunged again, fist glowing, but Jiya slid past, her sword stopping inches from his throat.
"Dead," she said flatly.
Veer cursed under his breath, slamming his fist into the dirt. "Tch. Always the same."
Jiya sheathed her blade, her gaze softening. "You're stronger than me in raw power. But power without control will only get you killed."
From the edge of the grounds, a soft giggle broke the tension.
"You two sound like Father," Riya Roy called out, sitting cross-legged on the fence. At fifteen, she hadn't awakened yet, but her eyes shone with the same sharpness as her siblings. "He says the exact same thing whenever he watches you train."
Veer looked up at her, scowling. "Don't laugh. When you awaken, I'll make you spar with me too."
"Mm. I'll win, though," Riya replied with a mischievous grin.
For a moment, the weight of the apocalypse faded, replaced by the warmth of family banter. But reality was never far away.
---
Later that evening, the Roy siblings sat at the long dining table in Tempest's hall. Their father, Aditya Roy, entered—his presence alone enough to still the room. The wind seemed to stir faintly whenever he moved, a reminder of the storm bound to his soul.
"You've improved," Aditya said, looking at Veer. "But you're reckless. If Jiya hadn't been your opponent, you would've been gutted."
Veer's jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.
Aditya turned to his eldest. "And you, Jiya. You've grown sharper. A commander's patience. Good. Tempest will need more than raw strength—it will need leaders."
Finally, his gaze landed on Riya. The youngest held it steadily, though her hands were clenched beneath the table.
"You will awaken soon," Aditya said softly. "But until then, learn. Watch. The world outside these walls won't show mercy just because you're my daughter."
Riya nodded slowly. "I'll be ready."
For a long moment, silence lingered. Then Aditya's expression hardened.
"A new rift opened this morning," he said. "Tier Four. Too close to the city. Tempest will lead the raid tomorrow."
The siblings exchanged glances. Veer's eyes lit with determination, Jiya's with calm resolve, and Riya's with quiet unease. Each reaction revealed who they were.
Aditya continued, "This is not just another raid. Reports say the monsters inside are organized. Intelligent. If that's true, then we face more than beasts—we face an enemy capable of strategy."
His words settled like a heavy storm cloud.
"Prepare yourselves," Aditya said finally. "Tomorrow will test us all."
---
The Roy children returned to their rooms that night, each carrying different thoughts.
Jiya sat sharpening her blade, her mind already calculating possibilities, strategies, outcomes. To her, survival meant control.
Veer stood before the mirror, fists glowing faintly, whispering to himself, I'll prove myself. I won't lose again.
Riya sat by the window, watching the storm clouds roll over Mumbai's skyline. She was still powerless, but her heart beat with the same fire as her family's.
Beyond the walls, the rift pulsed with ominous light, promising bloodshed.
The storm was coming.