Year 2060.
The sun dipped behind Vrindavan's horizon, spilling blood-red light across the narrow streets and ancient temples.
From his balcony, Karan leaned against the cold iron railing, his eyes fixed on the bustling market below. The laughter of children, the cries of shopkeepers, the ringing of temple bells—everything felt distant, muted. For him, the world moved in silence, wrapped in a weight he could no longer bear.
His gaze was hollow, almost lifeless. The fire that once burned within him had long faded, leaving behind only exhaustion and quiet bitterness.
Then, the television from the next room shattered the silence.
"Breaking news. Another terrorist attack struck Bandra yesterday evening. Thanks to our superheroes, many lives were saved. Witness how Blazefury and Crimson Blade rescued the hostages…"
Karan's jaw tightened. Slowly, mechanically, he turned toward the flickering screen. The light danced across his pale face, painting his expression in cold blue and orange hues. He said nothing. He didn't even blink. He simply stared—lost between envy and despair.
******
Bandra —
Smoke coiled through the corridors of a massive shopping mall, wrapping around terrified hostages like serpents in the dark. People huddled together, trembling, eyes wide, hearts pounding.
"P-please… let us go," a woman whispered, her voice breaking.
The terrorist sneered, pressing the barrel of his gun against her head.
"Quiet," he hissed. "If you want to live, don't make a sound."
And then—
BOOM.
Glass exploded like frozen lightning. Shards rained down, slicing through air and screams alike. Chaos erupted.
"W-what the hell is happening?!" a terrorist shouted, spinning his rifle wildly.
No answer came. Only the crunch of footsteps on broken glass.
A sharp slash echoed. Then—silence.
The first terrorist's body collapsed in a spray of crimson across the marble floor. Fear rippled through the others—pure, suffocating dread.
Then came laughter. Low, sharp, alive. A flame within madness.
From the smoke stepped a boy, no older than eighteen. Sparks crackled around his fists; flames danced across his knuckles like living fire.
Blazefury.
The name spread like wildfire among the hostages. A child whispered it first—then others joined in, until the mall echoed with hope.
"Blazefury! Crimson Blade! They're here! We're saved!"
The terrorist leader spat blood, rage twisting his face.
"You call yourselves heroes? You killed one of ours! How can you stand there and call yourself a hero?"
Blazefury's grin faded. His eyes ignited with cold fury. He stepped forward, boots crushing shards beneath him, and grabbed the man by the throat.
"You don't deserve to be called human," he said quietly, voice low and dangerous. "You kill the innocent… then death should taste you too."
The man struggled, choking, his legs flailing uselessly.
Then—another laughter echoed. Deeper. Darker. It filled the air like poison.
A man stepped out of the shadows. His eyes were pitch-black, veins crawling up his neck like living ink.
"Vertix," he said, his tone calm yet mocking. "Remember the name. You heroes… this world… it all ends soon. And Blazefury—"
he smirked
"—I'll kill you myself. Don't die before I arrive."
Black circles pulsed beneath each terrorist's feet, swirling like living voids.
"Let's go, brothers."
One by one, they vanished.
Silence fell.
Blazefury and Crimson Blade stood frozen. No villain had ever vanished like that. Not before today.
*****
Sirens wailed as police flooded the mall, helping hostages to safety. Reporters surged forward, cameras flashing, microphones raised.
"Blazefury! How did the terrorists vanish?"
"Crimson Blade, can you tell us what happened inside?"
Sparks still flickered faintly along Blazefury's hands. His eyes were calm, proud.
"Don't worry," he said. "They can't escape. You all know—I'm the powerful one."
Hearing this, the reporter looks at him with a look of disappointment, as if to ask whether he is a hero or a walking ego.
Crimson Blade stepped forward, silent yet commanding. Her presence was both gentle and deadly.
"We can't reveal everything," she said softly. "But trust us—we'll always protect you."
Whispers spread like wind through the crowd.
"She's beautiful… but deadly."
"Deadly? She tore a man apart in one strike. She's not even human."
*****
Vrindavan —
The television screen went black.
Karan's family watched him from the couch as he quietly stepped toward the door.
"Karan, where are you going?" his elder sister, Priya, asked, her voice trembling.
"Nowhere," he said softly. "Just… need some air."
"You don't need to be sad, Karan…" she whispered.
He paused. A faint, broken smile crossed his face.
"I'm not sad, sis."
But tears betrayed him, slipping down his cheeks—hot, heavy, relentless. Each one whispered the same word.
Useless. Powerless. This world doesn't need you.
He stepped out into the night and let the darkness swallow him whole.
*****
Yamuna Ghat ( Holy river )— Midnight
The river lay still beneath the moonlight, a silver mirror stretching to the horizon. A lone boat rocked gently near the shore. Karan sat at its edge, his reflection trembling in the water. The cold wind brushed against his tear-streaked face, numbing the ache within him.
"Everyone has powers," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Everyone can do something… so why was I born powerless?"
His fists clench. He looks up at the sky and starts screaming loudly.
"O God, why did you bring a weak person like me into this world where you have given powers to everyone?".
I want to be powerful too. I want to protect the world too. But...
His voice thundered across the quiet river, echoing into the endless dark.
Then—a laugh.
Soft. Mocking. Everywhere, yet nowhere.
Karan turned sharply.
"Who's there?! Show yourself!"
The laughter deepened, vibrating through the still air.
"You cannot see me, child," the voice said—calm, ageless, and knowing. "But hear this—strength is earned, not given."
"Who are you?" Karan shouted, heart racing.
The river stilled. The wind froze. Even the night held its breath.
"Prove your worth," the voice whispered. "Heroes aren't born from power—they're born in the moment they could have run, but didn't."
Silence followed.
No rustling leaves. No sound of water. Even his heartbeat seemed to fade.
Karan rose, chest heaving, eyes burning beneath the pale moonlight.
"I will," he whispered. Then, shouting to the night—
"I WILL!"
Blood trickled from his nose. The world tilted. His body wavered—and he collapsed onto the boat, unconscious, as the moon watched in silence.