The world returned without ceremony.
No light.
No sound.
No divine pull.
Just gravity.
Yeshwanth staggered as his feet touched concrete instead of marble. The air was heavier here—thick with dust, smoke, unfinished lives. Streetlights buzzed overhead, some flickering, some dead. The city smelled like oil, rain-soaked asphalt, and exhaustion.
Earth.
For a moment, he stood still, waiting for something else to happen.
Nothing did.
No system prompt.
No mana response.
No guardian presence.
Only silence.
Nila appeared beside him a second later, her arrival softer, almost careful—as if the world itself resisted her presence. She swayed slightly, steadying herself with one hand against a wall.
"…So this is it," she said quietly.
Yeshwanth glanced at her. "Welcome to my world."
She didn't smile.
1. The Weight of Small Things
They walked.
Not far—just enough to feel it.
The uneven pavement.
The cracked shop signs.
A stray dog limping past with ribs showing.
Nila noticed everything.
People arguing over change.
A woman counting coins twice before boarding a bus.
A man sleeping on cardboard under a billboard promising Luxury Living.
Her steps slowed.
"This place…" she murmured. "It's loud. But no one is speaking."
Yeshwanth nodded. "That's normal."
She stopped.
"No," she said. "It shouldn't be."
He didn't answer.
There was nothing to defend.
2. A Room Without Power
The room he rented was small—one fan, one light, a single window facing another wall. He dropped his bag near the door and sat on the edge of the bed.
Nila stood near the window, fingers hovering just above the glass.
"I can feel it," she said. "Something in me… pulling inward."
Yeshwanth looked up. "Your power?"
"Yes. It doesn't belong here." She turned to him. "If I don't suppress it, things will break."
He exhaled slowly. "Then don't use it."
She studied him. "You live like this every day?"
"Lived," he corrected. "I was supposed to leave this behind."
Nila sat beside him.
"And yet… you survived it."
He didn't reply.
Survival wasn't something to be proud of. It was just something that happened when dying failed.
3. No System, No Safety
Night came quietly.
Too quietly.
Yeshwanth lay awake, staring at the ceiling fan as it rotated unevenly. His body felt wrong—like a machine missing half its parts. He reached inward, instinctively, searching for that familiar pull.
Nothing answered.
"…So they really sealed it," he muttered.
Nila turned on her side, facing him. "You're afraid."
He didn't deny it.
"I've been powerless before," he said. "But this time, I know what power feels like."
That was worse.
She reached out, taking his hand.
Her touch was warm—but careful, restrained.
"I chose this," she said softly. "If suffering is the cost of choosing you… then it's acceptable."
He closed his eyes.
"That's not a fair price."
She squeezed his hand once. "Love never is."
4. Elsewhere — Authority
The divine battlefield roared with controlled chaos.
Arkan stood at the center, Xenron resting against his shoulder. The weapon pulsed steadily now—no resistance, no hesitation. Guardians moved at his command. Lines formed. Orders carried weight.
"Advance in pairs," Arkan said calmly. "No heroics."
They obeyed.
The God of Realms watched from above, expression unreadable.
"He adapts quickly," one god murmured.
"Yes," another replied. "But the weapon listens more than it obeys."
Xenron's core flickered once.
Arkan didn't notice.
Or chose not to.
5. The First Crack
Morning.
Yeshwanth checked his bank balance.
The numbers were real.
Money from another world, converted cleanly, sitting silently in an account that didn't care how it arrived.
He stared at it longer than he should have.
"This could fix things," he said quietly.
Nila leaned against the doorframe. "It won't."
He looked at her.
She met his gaze evenly. "It will solve problems. Not consequences."
He shut the app.
Outside, voices rose.
A group of men stood across the street—too still, too observant. Not locals. Not police. They weren't hiding, but they weren't blending either.
One of them looked directly at Yeshwanth.
Held the gaze.
Then smiled.
Yeshwanth felt it.
That same pressure.
But closer.
Sharper.
6. A Voice That Doesn't Belong
Later that evening, the landlord knocked.
Behind him stood a man in a clean suit—too clean for the area.
"Evening," the man said pleasantly. "We're doing routine verifications."
Yeshwanth stepped forward. "For what?"
The man's eyes flicked briefly to Nila, then back.
"Ensuring… certain individuals remain unprotected."
The words landed wrong.
Yeshwanth's pulse spiked.
"You're in the wrong building," he said.
The man smiled wider.
"Oh, no. We're exactly where we need to be."
For just a fraction of a second, the air behind him warped—like a shadow bending without light.
Then it was gone.
"Tell your employers," Yeshwanth said coldly, "I'm not an easy target."
The man inclined his head.
"We've noticed."
He turned and left.
7. Decision Point
That night, Yeshwanth sat at the small table, laptop open. Notes filled the screen—not spells, not techniques.
Systems.
Markets.
Networks.
Control paths.
Nila watched quietly.
"You're planning something dangerous," she said.
"Yes."
She didn't stop him.
He looked up at her. "If gods fight wars with weapons… then I'll fight with structures."
She nodded once.
Outside, the wind picked up.
Not violently.
But enough to move things.
Somewhere far away, unseen, something listened.
And approved.