Aarav Das had inherited a legacy. His grandfather had been a renowned public prosecutor in State, a man whose sharp mind and moral courage had made him legendary in courtrooms across the state. His parents, too, had carved their own names into history—celebrated lawyers whose every case attracted magazines, reporters, and politicians. They were the first choice of the powerful and the influential.
But fate had other plans. Both parents perished in a sudden flight crash, leaving Aarav under the care of his grandfather. From that day, he was groomed to carry the family's honor forward, to step into the shadows of greatness that loomed over him.
And yet… he never wanted it.
He was careless, lazy, and willful. Family wealth, accumulated over three generations, allowed him to live without concern for work, law, or responsibility. He had joined one of Mumbai's most prestigious law colleges—not from merit, but because donations paved the way. Every accolade his name carried felt hollow. Every expectation suffocated him.
When his grandfather passed away of old age, the last tether of guidance vanished. Freed from all restraints, Aarav fell into excess—partying, drinking, and indulging in drugs. Nights blurred into mornings. Responsibility was a word he ignored.
That night, at another lavish party, the confrontation finally came. His childhood friend, Rohit, leaned in, voice sharp with anger and frustration:
"Aarav! Look at yourself!" Rohit snapped, grabbing his shoulder. "You're wasting everything your family built! Your grandfather… your parents… they worked their whole lives so you could have a name, and what do you do? You rot here, drunk, high, living like a spoiled brat! Wake up before it's too late!"
Aarav swatted his hand away, slurring slightly. "Chill, man. Everyone's just jealous of my life. I'm fine. Not like I have to listen to strict dads like yours, Ha ha!"
Everyone around him laughed, drinking in the illusion of his charm.
Another friend, Sameer, leaned in, smirking, pouring Aarav another drink. "Don't mind him, Aarav. He's always like this. Some people are tired of hearing lectures at home and come here to lecture others. You? You're living the dream. Keep enjoying it, bro. Family legacy? Pfft… that's boring. We've got tonight."
"Exactly, Aarav!" shouted a slim girl in a tight dress, hugging him from behind, hands roaming carelessly, her laughter ringing through the suite. "Who cares about your dead grandparents? We're here, aren't we? Live it up!"
Rohit's eyes burned with fury. "You call this living? You're killing yourself! You have everything handed to you on a silver platter, and you're throwing it away. This isn't a joke. You're a disgrace!"
Aarav's lip curled in irritation. If anyone else—his father's friends, uncle, family lawyer, even his grandfather's trusted manager—had said this, he would have ignored it all. But when Rohit, his childhood brother in every sense, spoke, the words pierced him.
"You don't understand! You don't know what it's like to be me!" Aarav snapped, anger and shame mixing in his voice.
"Then maybe I should!" Rohit shot back, stepping closer. "Maybe then you'd realize that this isn't freedom—it's prison. You're trapped by your laziness and ego, surrounded by false people. Come to me when you realize this and turn a new leaf in your life."
And with that, Rohit left.
The room went quiet for a heartbeat. Aarav's so-called friends snickered, trying to mask their discomfort, but Rohit's words lingered in the air. Shame, anger, and frustration collided in Aarav's chest.
The girl tried to hug him again, to console him, but Aarav shoved her hands away and stumbled toward the bar.
He poured himself a drink, downing it in one gulp. Then another. Then drugs. Night blurred into oblivion.
He vaguely remembered drinking in the car, stumbling through hotel hallways, being lifted onto a bed by a waiter.
And then—pain. Sharp, unrelenting pain shot through his chest. His vision blurred, legs gave way beneath him. He collapsed onto the floor.
His heart betrayed him.
~silence~
Room fell into silence.
~silence~
And then—something impossible happened.
A voice, faint but piercing, screamed from his very soul:
"MO…M!"
Aarav gasped and bolted upright in bed. Or rather… Arjun did.
He froze, confusion and shock washing over him. This was not his body. The room—a sprawling suite with polished floors, a marble bathroom, and towering windows—looked familiar, yet alien. A strange thought hit him: I've never stayed in a room like this. At Atlantis Financial Corp, I only ever saw these suites when I accompanied my manager or booked them for clients. This was far beyond his reach… yet here he was. Everything felt unreal.
His body felt heavy, sluggish, almost paralyzed. Summoning all his strength, he dragged himself to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and looked into the mirror.
The reflection was not his own. Dark hair, a sharper jawline, piercing brown eyes—handsome in a way many would envy. This face… belonged to someone else.
Shock gave way to panic, and questions raced through his mind.
Before he could think further, a strange, soft blue light appeared in front of him. Hovering in mid-air, unaffected by his trembling hands, it formed a holographic screen. The letters glowed with an otherworldly intensity:
"Ultimate Justice System — Initialized. Ready to Use."
Arjun's heart pounded. Questions surged, a storm in his head:
This… this isn't a dream.I'm… alive?Whose body is this?
All at once, the holographic screen shimmered and changed. Words appeared, more ominous, more commanding:
"God of Justice is Angry."
Arjun's breath caught. The weight of the message pressed on him, as if the universe itself demanded attention. Something beyond human law, beyond courts and judges, had taken notice.