Captain
. . . . . .
The wolf pounced, jaws wide, aiming straight for my head. I jerked back on instinct. Its massive paw slammed into my helmet. Metal screeched under its claws, deep grooves carving across the surface.
The impact hurled me to the ground. The world tilted, the edges of my vision swimming. Warm blood slid down from beneath the helmet, cutting through the cold wind.
For a moment, I thought this was where my story ended.
The wolf gathered itself, fury blazing in its glowing eyes. Its muscles tightened for the killing leap. I shut my eyes, bracing for the pain.
But it never came.
A shadow flickered behind the beast. The wolf sensed it too late. It twisted to dodge, but the shadow was faster. A blade tore straight through its chest. The wolf managed a broken, strangled growl before collapsing into the snow. A final twitch, and then stillness.
I dragged myself up, desperate to see the one who could kill a creature that size in a single strike.
CHOP.
A sharp blow hit the side of my neck. My body went limp. Consciousness slipped away again.
. . . . . .
Some time earlier.
The forest rang with the clash of metal and the thunder of heavy blows.
Five fighters battled the same enormous wolf. A little distance away, high on a tree branch, stood a dark silhouette—likely their instructor—watching every move with unsettling calm.
All five wore identical gear: black bodysuits reinforced with grey plates over vital areas, faces hidden behind featureless black masks.
Two carried swords—sleek blades with blue-lit stones embedded in the hilts, humming faintly with energy. One wielded a massive hammer wrapped in the same blue glow. Another held a shield large enough to guard half his body. The fifth stood further back with a strange, curved bow, providing support from a distance.
For all their numbers, the fight was at a standstill. Five against one, yet neither the team could bring the wolf down, nor could the beast escape.
Then the hammer-bearer faltered. His grip trembled; his stance buckled. The hammer crashed into the dirt with a heavy thud.
That single mistake was all the wolf needed.
Its eyes narrowed. With a low growl, it surged forward, slicing through the sudden gap in their formation. One swordsman slashed at its back, landing only a shallow cut. The archer's shot vanished into the trees.
Branches snapped as the wolf disappeared into the forest's shadowed depths.
The team rushed after it, until a single voice froze them mid-step.
"Stop."
Their instructor dropped from the tree without a sound, landing in front of them.
"You will not pursue," he said. His tone left no room for argument. "Return to the camp."
The hammer wielder stepped forward, frustration spilling out.
"But Captain, we can still—"
The Captain's gaze cut him down instantly.
"This is not a game, Nikhil. You were brought to this wilderness to be trained—to learn teamwork. What I saw today was anything but. You will return to camp and reflect on your failure. Is that understood?"
Silence thickened around them.
The Captain's voice cracked like a whip.
"I asked—do you understand?"
"YES, SIR!"
Weapons lowered. Heads bowed. The team trudged away, swallowed by the trees.
The Captain watched them vanish, expression unreadable. Then he turned toward the path the wolf had taken. Without hesitation, he followed.
He moved fast—far faster than any normal human.
Minutes later, he found the wolf again. This time, it wasn't alone.
He watched from the shadows as the beast lunged at a young man on an old hovercycle, fighting desperately for his life.
"This boy has good instincts," he thought. "But what is he doing here?"
He observed everything—the struggle, the injuries, the grit.
When the wolf prepared the final strike, the Captain stepped in. One slash. One kill.
"Not now," he murmured. "We'll talk later."
Before Hira could speak, his hand chopped the side of his neck. Darkness swallowed him again.
Captain black robes fluttered in the cold as he wiped blood from his blade.
. . . . . .
When I opened my eyes, a dim lantern swayed above me, its light flickering across canvas walls.
I was lying on a medical bed inside a field tent. My head was bandaged. An IV line was taped to my wrist. For a long moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, forcing my memories to reconnect.
A deep sigh escaped me.
Every time I lost consciousness, I woke somewhere new. The helplessness gnawed at me. At least this time I wasn't buried under snow. That felt like progress.
Another sigh slipped out.
Where am I now? Why am I here? And who the hell was the man who killed that wolf?
Voices drifted in from outside the tent.
I froze.
For the first time since the landslide… human voices. Real, living voices. After months of silence, the sound felt unreal. My chest tightened—not in fear, but in relief so sharp it was painful.
I swung my legs off the bed, but my body crumpled under its own weight. Hunger and exhaustion hollowed out every movement.
The tent flap rustled.
A woman stepped inside—a white bodysuit under a white coat smeared with dust. Grey hair, black eyes, a few wrinkles softening her stern face.
Her eyes widened when she saw me collapsed on the ground. She rushed forward, slid her arm under my shoulder, and helped me back onto the bed.
"Easy… don't strain yourself," she said. Her voice was calm, practiced.
She checked the bandage on my head, then looked directly into my eyes. Something about her gaze felt analytical—like she was studying more than my wounds.
"You're lucky," she said, scanning a small device beside the bed. "The wolf's claws only grazed your skull. The wound isn't too deep."
I exhaled shakily.
"But you've been unconscious for almost two days. Severe dehydration. Malnutrition. It's as if you hadn't eaten in… quite a while."
Her words hit harder than the wolf's paw.
Before I could ask where I was, she continued, adjusting the IV drip. "Rest for now. Someone will come for your interrogation soon."
She dusted her coat and turned to leave.
"Wait…" My voice cracked. She paused. "What… what's the date?"
Her expression changed—small, subtle, but unmistakable.
"It's the 1st of March," she said quietly. "The 1st of March… of the 96th year."
And she was gone.
1st of March.
96th year.
The words echoed in my mind.
Yash and I had come to Uttarakhand on the first of August. A simple trek. A few days in the mountains.
If she was telling the truth… then I'd been unconscious for seven months.
A.N. - So guys, it's finally time for our MC to know about the truth and the changes of the planet. Any guesses how his reaction will be.
Title meaning: CAPTAIN OR INSTRUCTOR