The air inside the UOH Headquarters was still and cold.
A circular table dominated the center of the vast conference room, surrounded by rows of high-backed chairs and gleaming microphones.
The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, frosting the mood further. Around the table sat the committee members—faces composed, but eyes heavy with expectation.
The first to break the stillness was Bheem, the head of the Elephant Guild. He rose from his chair with a grin that was both proud and arrogant.
In his massive hands, he held a thick file. The pages fluttered as he turned them, the sound echoing like distant thunder.
"Hehe… these are our new-generation heroes," he said, a proud smirk curling across his face.
Thud.
He slammed his fist onto the table—not out of anger, but sheer excitement.
The impact rattled the microphones and made the others flinch. They knew better than to take Bheem's emotions lightly. His power, like his temper, was legendary.
"Bheem," came a calm but commanding voice, "this is a meeting room. Try to keep your enthusiasm outside."
The voice belonged to Veer Pratap Singh, leader of UOH and bearer of the Yellow Aura—a light faintly glowing around him, casting a divine hue. His posture radiated authority; even the air seemed to bend in his presence.
In this world, auras defined everything—strength, status, even destiny.
Many possessed them, but only five were recognized as supreme:
Black: The Aura of Destruction — capable of erasing anything.
Yellow: The most powerful known aura, divine in nature. Only Veer Pratap Singh possessed it.
Red: The Evil Aura — born only in demons.
Blue: The Assassin's Aura — a gift of the gods to their favored children.
Golden: The ultimate aura, said to embody the power of divinity itself. No one in the world possessed it now.
Other colors—green, pink, silver—existed too, powerful in their own right.
But compared to these five, they were sparks against the sun.
If ranked, their hierarchy was clear: Golden → Red → Yellow → Blue → Black.
Bheem pouted like a scolded child and dropped back into his chair.
For a moment, tension clouded the room—until Ramy spoke, his cheerful tone slicing through the stillness.
"Sir, I think we still have some amazing heroes left," he said with a confident smile.
Bheem's impatience returned; his legs bounced under the table.
Suddenly, he stood again, voice booming with energy.
"Come on, sir! Rihan—our Blazefury! Did you see how he crushed that demon?"
His excitement stirred the air, and a white aura began forming around him, trembling with his zeal. "The world can't stop talking about it! The internet is overflowing with his praises!"
The members couldn't hold back their smiles any longer.
For weeks, they had waited for good news—and now it came like a sunrise.
"Yes, sir," another member chimed in. "America, Japan—calls are coming from everywhere! They want Blazefury to represent India in this year's World Best Heroes Award Show!"
The WBH Awards—the world's grandest celebration of heroism.
Much like film awards, but instead of artists, it honored those who had saved lives, slain monsters, and changed the fate of nations.
But before the joy could take root, another voice shattered it.
"Before you all celebrate," said Ketu, head of the Wolf Guild, his eyes sharp as blades, "do you even know how much Blazefury damaged himself during that fight?"
The room fell silent again. The warmth vanished as if someone had flipped a switch.
"Sir… how is he now?" asked Ravi, head of the Bull Guild, his tone laced with concern. "I pray his condition isn't too bad."
Veer's aura flickered faintly and began to fade, reflecting the heaviness in his heart. His earlier pride drained away, replaced by quiet worry.
"It's been two months," Bheem murmured. "Two months since Blazefury and that other boy were hospitalized."
"That's right," Ravi said suddenly, leaning forward. "Speaking of that boy—how did he defeat such a powerful demon without any superpower?"
The question hung in the air like a spark ready to ignite a storm.
Murmurs spread around the room—Karan's name whispered again and again.
Veer finally spoke, his voice steady yet fierce.
"Being powerless doesn't mean being weak. Many heroes were blessed with divine gifts, but their cowardice turned them into nothing."
He rose from his seat, gaze sweeping across every face.
"The future doesn't belong to the powerful—it belongs to those who refuse to bow. True heroes aren't defined by their powers, but by their will to stand even when they have nothing."
The words struck deep.
For a moment, every member felt a fire ignite within—the kind only real conviction could light.
Thud!
Bheem's fist landed on the table again, this time filled with pride.
"Yes, sir! Our lab tests confirmed that karan killed that demon in a single strike!" His booming voice carried triumph.
"But how did he know the demon's weakness?" Ramy asked, curiosity replacing his grin. "That kind of knowledge is only taught inside UOH."
Veer looked at them all and smiled faintly, a knowing smirk curving his lips.
"These are children of India," he said. "Fearless, instinctive, born to fight. They know how to survive when death is standing right before them."
The others nodded in agreement, their respect for the two young heroes renewed.
"For now," Veer continued, slipping into his coat, "let both Blazefury and Karan recover. Begin regular training for the rest of the students. Once they wake, we'll celebrate their victory with a small party."
The word party brought light back into the room.
Faces brightened, whispers of plans began, and the air shifted from solemn to hopeful.
Far from the shining towers of the UOH, two heroes slept beneath the hum of hospital machines.
_____
At Maha Devi Hospital.
Thuk. Thuk. Thuk.
Footsteps echoed through the white hallway as Crimson Blade entered a dimly lit hospital room.
Two beds stood side by side, separated by a thin partition. On one lay Rihan—Blazefury, eyes half-open under the glow of the ventilator. On the other—Karan, motionless, lost in a sleep that had lasted two long months.
Crimson Blade stepped closer, her expression unreadable.
She moved to Rihan's side, pulled out a chair, and sat down. From a paper bag, she took out an apple and began slicing it silently.
"You shouldn't have come," Rihan muttered, his voice hoarse. "I don't want to see anyone."
"Shut up," she said flatly, not looking up. "Eat this apple."
"I don't need your pity," he snapped, turning away.
"Enough."
Her tone cut through the air, sharp as a blade.
"If someone hadn't been drunk on his own power and almost killed himself, I wouldn't be sitting here either."
Rihan froze.
She didn't sound angry—just… tired. Emotionless. The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.
Then, a weak murmur broke it.
"N… no, Mom… I'm sorry…"
Crimson Blade turned sharply toward the other bed.
Karan was whispering in his sleep, his face twisted with pain.
"It's all my fault… please don't die…"
For a moment, she stood frozen, her eyes softening. Slowly, she walked to his side and touched his cheek.
His skin was warm; his heartbeat fragile but steady. Her stoic expression melted—replaced by something rare. Concern. Fear. Maybe… something more.
Suddenly, Karan's eyes snapped open.
He gasped for air, trembling, then reached out and pulled her into a desperate embrace.
"Huff… huff…" His breath was ragged, his body shaking as if he'd just escaped a nightmare. "Mom… please… don't leave me…"
Crimson Blade's entire face flushed crimson.
Her heart pounded in her chest—wild, uncontrollable. She could barely breathe.
No one had ever touched her without fear — and somehow, that terrified her more than any battle.
Why… why is my heart beating like this? What is this feeling?
Rihan, watching from the other bed, blinked in disbelief.
Half-chewed apple fell from his mouth and hit the floor with a dull thunk.
"What the hell am I watching!?" he shouted, face turning red with a mix of shock and frustration.
"Of all the things I expected to see in a hospital… this wasn't one of them!"
The room echoed with his voice—but Karan didn't hear him.
He clung tightly to Crimson Blade, trembling, lost between dream and reality… while she, the woman known for her icy calm, stood frozen—heart racing faster than she'd ever known.
And somewhere deep inside the hospital's walls—unseen and unspoken—
a new bond, fragile, strange, and fateful, had just begun to form.