The first kick broke something inside him.
Ayaan didn't know if it was a rib or just his will to stand—but the moment the leather boot slammed into his side, the world tilted.
"Hahaha! Look at this fool. He doesn't even have the guts to fight back!"
Pain exploded through his body. He hit the ground hard, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth before he could even breathe. His vision blurred as warm liquid streamed from his nose, mixing with the dirt and oil of the university pavement.
"You think you're special, Ayaan?"
Ritesh crouched down, his gold watch glinting under the dim streetlights like the eye of a predator. "You come from the gutter—a piece of trash—and you dare to look at someone above your station?"
He grabbed Ayaan's collar and forced his face up.
"Look at yourself to think someone with this background dares to stand before me." Ritesh's father owned half the district. In this world, money wasn't power.
It was law.
Ayaan had been their punching bag for months.
But today…
Today was different.
Today, it was because of her.
Ishani.
The campus "Goddess" wealthy. Brilliant. Untouchable.
And for some reason… kind to him.
She had shared her notes. Smiled at him. Spoken to him like he existed.
That was enough to make him a target.
"Boys," Ritesh said, standing up and adjusting his collar, "break him."
They didn't hesitate.
It wasn't a fight.
It was an execution.
Punches rained down like a storm. Boots crushed into his ribs, his back, his face. Ayaan curled into himself, trying to protect his head, but a kick slammed into his jaw—
Crack.
Something broke.
"You pathetic worm!" someone shouted. "You really thought a girl like Ishani would ever look at you?"
The world became noise. Pain. Pressure.
Then even that faded.
Finally, Ritesh stepped forward one last time and spat on him.
"Don't ever speak to her again," he said coldly. "Don't even breathe the same air."
Their laughter faded into the distance.
Ayaan lay there.
Not moving.
Not thinking.
Just… existing.
Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass.
But still—
He forced himself to move.
Because he had to go home.
Ayaan lay there for a long time, listening to the fading sound of their laughter. Every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. His legs were shaking, but he forced himself to crawl toward a brick wall, using it to haul his broken body upward.
He had to get home. He had to.
Home was a shack in the heart of the slums, a place defined by the foul stench of open sewers and the constant hum of flies. Waiting for him there was Sunidhi, his older sister. She was only twenty-four, but she had been a mother to him since their parents died when he was five. She worked three back-breaking jobs—cleaning, cooking, and sewing—just to keep him in that university.
I can't let her see me like this, Ayaan thought, a sob catching in his throat. She's sacrificed everything for my future. If she sees this... it will kill her.
He stumbled through the dark alleyways, taking a shortcut that smelled of rotting garbage and damp earth. As he walked towards his apartment in slow movements with the support of the walls, the air changed. The city's filth was replaced by a sharp, piercing scent—the smell of ancient incense and cold mountain air.
Ayaan took a long drag of the air as the scent of incense entered his nose; the moment the air entered his nose, the excruciating pain he was feeling seemed to tone down a bit. He felt a buzzing sensation on his head, which seemed to calm him down a little more.
This place was not alien to him; he had walked here several times, but for the first time, as he was walking here, it felt unusual to something that was not seen but only felt.
Sitting on a stone ledge was a man. He looked like an ancient relic fallen into a modern nightmare. His hair was long and matted, his clothes were tattered rags, and he held a traditional smoking pipe that emitted a strange, silver smoke.
The Sage didn't look interested at first. But as Ayaan limped past, the old man's head snapped toward him. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, widened in shock.
"Heh, Of all the places I searched... the Himalayas, the Ganges, the hidden ashrams... I find him here," the Sage whispered. His voice was deep, resonating like a temple bell. "A man with such prana. You are an untouched diamond buried in a pile of coal, boy."
Ayaan blinked, his vision dizzy from the blood.
In a literal blink of an eye, the man vanished from the ledge. Before Ayaan could even gasp, the Sage was standing inches from him. It was impossible. No human could move that fast. The Sage loked at Ayaan for a bit more time, looking at him as he placed his thumb in Ayaan's face
Thump.
There was a brief feeling as if there was something that entered his body, but nothing changed; the pain was still there. He looked at the sage.
"Probably someone with his upper floor empty," Ayaan thought to himself as he started again walking towards his apartment.
As he slowly made his way towards the apartment, his body felt like it was kept on a stove, and the flame was slowly getting hotter and hotter. It was nighttime there with cold air brushing past him like a blade, but for no reason, he was sweating profusely.
"Hm, I was feeling pain all around. Hm, I think it subsided." He finally reached the slums, pushing open the creaky wooden door of his home. The small room was filled with the steam of lentils. Sunidhi was sitting at the small kitchen table, her tired eyes fixed on her phone.
"Ayaan? Why are you so late?" she asked, her voice tight with worry.
"Oh... just had a project at the library. Lost track of time," Ayaan lied, his voice trembling slightly. Ayaan wondered why she didn't ask him anything about the wound. He was glad she didn't, but he scratched his head, thinking about it, as he entered the small bathroom to freshen up.
As he looked at the mirror, his eyes almost popped out of his eye sockets as he saw what was in the mirror. His face, which not so long ago was full of bruises, cuts, and blood, was now as clear as it was before.
"W...what the hell ha...happened to my face," he started frantically feeling his face if he wanted to bring the bruise back.
"So that is why she did not ask me anything, but what the hell? What actually happened? Am I some chosen one?" Ayaan joked with himself. He got out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel and appearing again in front of Sunidhi.
"Sit. The dinner is getting cold." She looked up then, her eyes searching his face for a long moment. "You know I won't eat a single bite until you're at the table. Wash up."
They ate in a heavy silence. Ayaan kept his head down, terrified she would notice the tear in his shirt or the way his hands shook.
After having dinner, he started preparing his bed, which was the sofa in the small living room. As he was preparing the bed, his mind began wandering back to the sage.
"There was something unusual about him; was it because of his clothes? Hmm."
"Oi Asshat, why are you staring at the ceiling? Sleep. You have class tomorrow." Sunidhi told Ayaan.
"Oh shit, don't scare me like that, Sunnydi."
"Don't call me that if you don't want extra salt in your food."
They both joked with each other before going to sleep.
As Ayaan fell asleep, he thought he did because the moment he closed his eyes, the feeling he had before the furnace-type heat that he felt resurfaced once again. His forehead was all sweaty, but now he could not open his eyes; it felt as if he was paralyzed where he was sleeping.
Slowly his vision, which was all dark, began to see some light. A familiar figure stood in front of him, the sage he saw earlier.