In the dim glow of a parked SUV near the hostel gate, a voice laced with cold malice echoed.
"Ajay sir, we just saw the person from the photo drop that girl—Ms. Anaya—at her hostel. Should I kill them both?"
Ajay's voice came slowly, dangerously calm, from the backseat.
"No… don't create unnecessary noise."
He licked his lips slowly, eyes gleaming with twisted delight.
"Today I heard from one bitch that if that brandless bastard ever ignores his morals, he'll kill me."
He smirked.
"So let's test it. Follow him. If he goes home, beat him in front of his shitty family—but don't kill him yet."
A pause.
"Instead… enjoy whatever's left in that house. Especially if there's any lady worth playing with."
The other man chuckled, cruel and eager.
"Understood, Mr. Ajay. Let's follow the brandless bastard."
---
Elsewhere…
A darkened forest path lit only by flickering greenish flies, glowing unnaturally, drifting through the air like sentient fireflies.
Five cloaked figures emerged from the mist, the insect-like flies pulsing in unison. Their clothes bore faint silver runes—each pulsing with a low hum. One figure, his voice full of malice, pointed forward.
"Even though we have two weeks left… we must find the unknown variable. The last survivor of Numn University. This fly will lead us."
As one, the group raised their weapons and chanted:
"Hail Hollow Pact."
---
Meanwhile, back in the girls' hostel…
Riya was furiously scribbling in her diary, only to tear the page out seconds later and toss it aside with a growl.
"Ugh! I swear I'll kill Dev! That idiot—saying eww at me during a blind date?"
She threw another crumpled page across the room.
Suddenly—
"BOO."
Riya jumped and nearly threw her pen like a dart.
"What the hell, Anaya?! Are you trying to kill me?"
Anaya grinned mischievously.
"According to law… the sentence for killing a friend is lighter than killing your husband."
"Bitch," Riya muttered, flopping back on her bed.
Anaya flopped beside her, laughing.
"Where are Pooja and Sneha?"
Riya groaned.
"They found some new mall and went shopping. Also—where the hell were you, miss mysterious?"
Anaya gave a proud smirk.
"Unlike someone who ruined a blind date, I had a real one."
Riya sat up, stunned.
"You what? You really went on a date?"
"Are you jealous?" Anaya teased, eyes sparkling.
"Not jealous," Riya muttered. "Just… shocked. The college queen who never talks to boys suddenly fell for some guy she met on a train?"
Anaya winked.
"Simple. It's a secret."
Riya rolled her eyes and grabbed her towel.
"Fine. I need to wash off the embarrassment. At least fix your face—it's dried out or something. Go look in the mirror."
Riya disappeared into the bathroom.
Anaya stood quietly, walking toward the mirror. She stared at her reflection.
A strange hollowness lingered in her expression.
"Again… same face… same tears."
She reached up slowly, touching her cheek.
Why do I look like I cried?
Suddenly—her hand knocked Riya's handbag off the shelf.
It dropped with a loud thud.
Too heavy for a normal purse.
Startled, Anaya picked it up—and hesitated.
A quiet breath. Then she slowly unzipped it.
Inside… she saw ....
------
Ayaan pulled up to the gate on Dev's bike. His mother, Tanvi, stood at the doorway with crossed arms, staring like a detective who already had her answers.
"Mom," he said as he got off the bike, "wake me up early tomorrow, okay? I need to return Dev's bike."
Tanvi kept her gaze on him, then glanced at the clock. "Do you have any other plans tonight?"
Ayaan lowered his head slightly. "No."
She walked toward him slowly, inspecting him as if he were a suspect. "Did you and Dev go to a movie? A party?"
"Nope."
"What's the time now?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Ayaan sighed, "Nine… It's nine, Mom."
Tanvi raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat dinner outside?"
"…No."
She gave him a deadpan look. "Last warning. Get inside before you collapse from hunger."
"Yes, yes, I'm coming."
As Ayaan stepped into the house, Tanvi's eyes caught something unusual. She narrowed her gaze at the faint mark on the back of his shirt—a lipstick stain.
She froze for a moment, then yanked Ayaan by the ear.
"Ow, Mom!"
"Who is she, huh?" Tanvi smirked. "When are you going to introduce her to me?"
Blushing hard, Ayaan stammered, "I-It's not like th—"
But Tanvi suddenly turned her head sharply toward the dark street.
"…Someone's watching us."
---
A few meters away…
Inside a parked car, two men observed the house with perverse grins.
"So, this is that bastard's home," one of them muttered, licking his lips.
The other leaned in, sniffing. "That's his mom, huh? Damn… even at 50, she's gorgeous. Just like Ajay sir said—let's enjoy her in front of him."
But before they could finish the thought, a knock tapped against the driver's window.
They turned.
A group of vehicles now surrounded their car. At the front stood a figure holding a gleaming sickle under the moonlight.
The man stared at the house and murmured, "It's been 25 years… You've been through a lot. I never imagined my nephew would grow up like this. I'm sorry… for both my mistakes."
He exhaled slowly.
"Enough is enough. That's why... I'm joining the game."
In a flash, he struck the sickle into a nearby electric pole. The streetlights around them cut out, plunging everything into darkness.
The men inside the car shouted, trying to move—but felt the car pulled to a stop, stuck like prey in a trap.
As they stepped outside, weapons drawn, a silhouette appeared before them—an older man with only three fingers on his left hand, calmly smoking a cigarette.
The leader raised his weapon—then stopped. Darts flew from all directions, piercing arms, legs, necks. One by one, the attackers collapsed.
The old man exhaled smoke.
"We farmers use darts to kill foxes quickly. But for people with fox-like minds… we kill them slowly."
He raised a hand.
"Bhairava. Finish it."
A sharp, confident voice replied, "Yes, Master."
A youth raised his gun—then stopped as a phone began ringing.
He handed it over. The old man answered, saying nothing.
On the other end:
"Did you find the brandless bastard's house?"
Silence.
"Hello? Say something!"
The man removed the cigarette from his lips, then spoke with cold clarity:
"Shhh. Judging by your voice… you're 25. Still a brat."
He stepped forward.
"And if you're expecting your people to respond… I'm afraid they've already gone to hell."
A pause.
"Ajay Choudhary… son of Bhanupratap…"
The voice sharpened like a blade.
"If you touch my family again, I'll cut you to pieces. Slowly. Personally."
He crushed the phone beneath his heel.
On the other end, Ajay's face paled. The phone slipped from his hand, sweat dripping from his forehead.
---
Back in the shadows…
Bhairava turned. "Master Ranvijay, are you okay?"
Ranvijay stared at the moon above. "I'm fine. You worry too much, Bhairava."
He picked up a twin crescent blade from the ground and wiped away its dust. The moonlight glinted off the faint shield emblem engraved at its hilt.
"Aditya dragged me back into this game… a game I hate. But thanks to that… I get a chance to protect my family."
His voice deepened.
"And this time… I won't fail."
---
At the girls' hostel…
Anaya stared at the handgun, still nestled inside Riya's bag. Her finger grazed the spear symbol carved into the metal.
A tear escaped her eye.
"…Eswar uncle…"
She carefully zipped the bag and placed it back. Sitting on her bed, she whispered to herself,
"This never happened . I'm sure… something's about to change."
---
Near a group of building…
Dark green flies pulsed forward, leading cloaked Hollow Pact assassins toward their hidden target.
Their leader grinned, lifting a blade—
"Move. The survivor is near—"
But before he could finish, a flash of steel cut across the air. One of the men collapsed—his head sliced cleanly off.
A single youth stepped forward, blade stained red, moonlight cascading down.
His sword hummed—radiating orange aura.
With a smirk:
"You didn't expect me, huh?"
Then, with steady resolve:
"Aditya uncle… just like you said—
Surya… your hidden trump card… has arrived."
----
In the dim light of an ancient castle, its walls draped with withering vines and worn-out crests, an old man sat cross-legged before a large palm-leaf manuscript, each line inscribed with ancient symbols and wisdom long forgotten by the world.
Before him, a younger figure—spinning an axe, its curved crimson edge gleaming faintly even in the shadows.
The old man's voice echoed through the stone hall with quiet reverence.
"A bow… the one who sits patiently, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, hoping change will come on its own."
"A sword… the man who holds everything beneath his grasp, not because he is wise, but because he still clings to unanswered hope."
"A shield… no, a broken one… the man who returned, believing he could rebuild what was lost."
"And a spear… the one who abandoned all, wandering alone—not for revenge, but in belief that true change can be earned."
The axe stopped spinning. Its wielder stood silent now, the weapon resting across his shoulder.
The old man continued softly, eyes never leaving the manuscript.
"So… what's your opinion on this regroup?"
The figure holding the axe gave a slow, unsettling smile. His voice was deep, malice curling beneath every syllable.
"Don't ask me as if you know nothing, old man. You know what's coming."
"Only 2.3 years left until the war begins."
The old man finally closed the palm-leaf gently, its dry rustle sounding like a whisper from the past.
He stared out the arched window toward the setting moon.
"Yes… I know everything. But you're still holding back."
"Because of that contract?."
The man with the axe tightened his grip.
"Yes. Only because of the contract."
He turned, voice dropping to a cold whisper—
"But the moment I break it… that day becomes mine."
He stepped away, vanishing into the corridor.
"The day of Nightmare."
As the echoes of his footsteps faded, the old man exhaled a long, weary breath and turned his gaze upward.
"Yet… you're the one who started this war."