Ayaan lingered at Rudra's tea stall, savoring the final, lukewarm remains of the tea. The liquid was dark and bitter, but it felt grounding. "Damn, tea and cigarettes... I really missed this combination," he murmured, his voice trailing off as he glanced at Rudra. The older man was watching him with a serene, knowing smile that seemed to reach far beyond the grimy streets of the city.
As Ayaan pushed himself up from the stool to leave, Rudra raised a hand, a silent gesture that carried a strange weight. "Entertain this old man for a little while longer," Rudra requested. His tone wasn't demanding, yet Ayaan found himself unable to refuse.
He lowered himself back onto the same worn-out wooden stool. It let out a sharp, agonised creak under his weight—a sound so sudden that Ayaan jumped back up, fearing the ancient wood was about to splinter into toothpicks.
Rudra's laughter was deep and hearty, echoing strangely in the quiet air. "Don't worry, Ayaan; it would take a lot more than that to break this stool. It has held up much heavier burdens than you."
Reassured but still cautious, Ayaan sat back down. The tension that had been coiling in his gut since the university began to unravel as they drifted into small talk.
Ayaan found himself opening up in a way he rarely did. He talked about the grinding pressure of his I studies, his anxieties about the upcoming exam, and the constant, protective thoughts he had for his sister, Sunidhi.
Rudra listened with a stillness that was almost supernatural, nodding at the right moments, his eyes reflecting a deep, parental warmth. For a few minutes, Ayaan wasn't a survivor of the Ocean of Souls or a budding cultivator; he was just a student venting to a confidant.
"You know," Ayaan said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, "when I was walking home from the university earlier, this sudden fear just... crept up on me. It was unlike anything I've ever felt. It wasn't just in my head; it made my legs turn to water. I couldn't even take another step."
The admission felt heavy, yet releasing it to Rudra felt right. The tea seller's expression remained as calm as a mountain lake. He didn't look shocked or dismissive.
"Oh, it happens to everyone sometimes," Rudra replied, his smile never wavering.
"Our bodies weaken for many reasons. Perhaps it is a lack of proper nourishment, or perhaps... perhaps the body is simply reacting to a lack of what it was once used to. Habit is a powerful thing, Ayaan. And besides, the time is not yet."
Ayaan blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Huh? What do you mean 'the time is not yet'?"
"Oh, nothing. Just an old man blabbering to fill the silence," Rudra dismissed him calmly, taking a slow sip of his own tea.
While the two sat in the sanctuary of the tea stall, the gears of the city's underworld were grinding toward Ayaan's doorstep. Having extracted his address from the university's records, two black SUVs—dark, sleek, and menacing—navigated the narrow streets toward Ayaan's apartment complex.
Sunidhi had reached the apartment just moments before. She moved with a grace that seemed out of place in the cramped hallway
. As she fiddled with her keys, the pungent, metallic stench of the nearby slums—the very smell that had made Ayaan gag—seemed to have no effect on her at all. She didn't even wrinkle her nose.
As she pushed the door open, a slight, predatory smile touched her lips. Her eyes, usually a soft brown, were now alive with a swirling, golden cloud of energy that pulsed with an ancient light.
Ayaan finally stood up for the second time, bidding Rudra farewell and beginning the final leg of his journey home. As he walked, Rudra's words played on a loop in his mind, dissecting them with the precision of a researcher.
The body gets weaker if it is used to something and it doesn't do it... The realisation hit him like a physical blow to the chest. I haven't cultivated. Not since I got back. Was that why I felt so weak? Was my internal energy stagnating because I was trying too hard to be 'normal'?
The thought sent a jolt of urgency through him. But what about the fear? That wasn't just physical weakness. It felt like... like something was watching me. He quickened his pace, his boots clicking rapidly against the pavement as he hurried toward the apartment.
In his haste, Ayaan wasn't paying attention to the thinning crowd. He rounded a corner sharply and slammed into a firm shoulder.
"Oh, I am sorry! I didn't see you there," Ayaan blurted out, stepping back and steadying himself. He looked up and felt his heart skip a beat. "Good morning, Professor!"
Professor Durga adjusted her glasses, looking at him with an unreadable expression. "I think it is way past morning, Ayaan. And where are you heading off to in such a hurried state? I certainly hope you aren't missing another exam."
"Uh, no Ma'am... I was just heading home," he stammered, feeling like a schoolboy caught in a lie.
"Well, make sure you don't bump into anyone else, okay?" Durga said, her voice trailing off as she stepped past him.
Ayaan stood there for a second, catching his breath, when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out to see an unfamiliar, international number. "Who could this be?"
He answered, and a deep, polished voice echoed from the receiver. "Hello. Is this Ayaan speaking?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself properly earlier. My name is Finn Rivers. I gave you my business card a while back—I hope you haven't misplaced it."
"Oh! Mr. Rivers. Yes, I remember. I'm sorry, I've been a bit buried in work, I couldn't call you back," Ayaan said, his mind racing.
"It doesn't matter," Rivers replied smoothly. "It is time we had a talk. When are you free to meet?"
"I can meet you tomorrow after my classes are over. Where should I come?"
"Just call me tomorrow when you're ready. I will send a car for you; it will be more convenient for everyone involved."
"Okay, sir. Will do." Ayaan hung up, his mind now a whirlwind of cultivation theories, Professor Durga's strange timing, and Finn Rivers' sudden reappearance.
Outside the apartment building, the two SUVs had come to a halt. Six men, dressed in tactical gear and sent by Aakash Kaushal, stepped out. They had the exact coordinates. They had the floor number. They had the door number.
Yet, for thirty minutes, they paced the small courtyard in a state of growing frustration. They looked at their maps, then at the building, then back at their maps. Despite standing mere feet from the entrance, they could find no trace of the staircase or the apartment. It was as if a section of the world had simply been erased for them.
Inside the apartment, Sunidhi had already changed into comfortable clothes. She sat by the window, the golden mist in her eyes swirling with increased intensity as she looked down at the confused men in the street below.
"Well," she whispered to the empty room, her voice shimmering with power, "it doesn't matter if you send a whole army. What is the point if they can't even find where to attack?"