Mumbai at night was a different creature.
The heat didn't leave; it crouched low, waiting. Lights flickered in windows, horns echoed far into the alleys, and the smell of frying pakoras mixed with sewage and monsoon-damp concrete. The city didn't sleep—it paced.
Arjun walked home from the rooftop slowly, mind shaking under the weight of Rudra's words.
The System chose you. You are awakening. Get stronger. Quickly.
The words replayed like heartbeat echoes.
His long black hair clung to his forehead. Sweat traced his spine under the thin shirt. Every sound around him felt sharper—not louder, just clearer. The hum of a distant transformer. The click of a pressure cooker from a neighbor's kitchen. The metallic rattle of cycles being chained for the night.
He passed a small chai stall. Students from another school laughed too loudly, neon lights reflecting in their glasses. One of them stared at Arjun's face a little too long, frowning at the bruise near his collar and the hollow cheeks.
"You okay, bhai?" the chaiwala asked softly.
Arjun nodded, not trusting his voice.
He kept walking.
The street narrowed ahead—tall buildings on either side, laundry hanging above like tired flags. The smell thickened: damp cloth, stale spices, and rainwater collecting where it shouldn't.
Arjun stepped into the narrow lane.
That's when he sensed it.
Not sound. Not in sight.
A warning.
A tightening behind his eyes, like someone adjusting a filter. His grey-brown eyes sharpened unconsciously, pupils narrowing. His breath slowed without him deciding to slow it.
A whisper of blue shimmered at the edge of his vision.
[Situational Awareness: +2%] [Micro-Instinct Activation Detected]
He stopped walking.
A shadow moved behind him.
Footsteps—too soft for casual pedestrians, too synchronized.
Arjun turned his head slightly.
Three boys stood at the lane entrance.
Not Samar's group. Not schoolboys.
Older. Street kids. Faces lean from hunger. Eyes sharp with opportunity.
One had messy spiked hair and a tattoo on his neck. Another wore a fake gold chain. The third held something behind his back—a thin, metallic shape.
Knife.
Arjun's ribcage tightened.
"Nice phone," the tattooed one said, nodding at Arjun's pocket. His eyes glinted under the yellow streetlight.
Arjun didn't move. Didn't speak. Old habits returned: stay small, stay quiet, don't provoke.
But something inside him—the part Rudra named—stirred.
The boys closed in.
"Come on, hero," the chain-wearer said. "Don't make it hard."
They thought he was an easy mark.
Arjun looked like one.
Thin. Bruised. Hair falling into his eyes. Shoulders slumped from pain.
He knew the pattern.
He'd been the pattern.
Knife-boy stepped forward, a smirk tugging one side of his mouth. "Give us the phone and—"
His hand lunged.
Knife flashing.
Arjun didn't think.
His body did.
Instinct.
Pure.
Clean.
Unbidden.
His hand shot up and pushed the wrist off-line. The knife skimmed past his ribs instead of entering them. His feet shifted into a stance he had never learned—knees bent, weight lowered, spine aligned. His eyes locked onto their movements, seeing frames within frames.
The world slowed.
Not supernatural. Not bullet time.
Just clarity. Too much clarity.
He saw the twitch before the chain guy swung. Saw the tension in tattoo boy's jaw. Saw the smallest flinch in the knife wielder's shoulder.
His body moved before he realized.
Knife-boy stabbed again. Arjun pivoted, letting the blade slide past his side. He used the motion to elbow him sharply in the forearm—not powerful, but precise.
Knife-boy yelped, dropping the blade.
Tattoo-boy cursed. "What the hell—?"
Chain swung toward Arjun's head.
Arjun ducked—breath steady, mind terrifyingly quiet—and stepped inside the arc. His shoulder collided with the boy's chest. They stumbled backward.
It wasn't skill.
It was instinct.
New. Raw. Terrifying.
Chain-boy angrily grabbed Arjun's shirt. "You little—"
Arjun's eyes narrowed—just a fractional change, but inside… something clicked.
[Adaptive Instinct Progress: 5% → 9%]
His foot swept the ground lightly, shifting weight, and he wrenched himself free in a sharp twist that startled even him.
Tattoo-boy recovered and lunged.
Arjun braced for another instinct.
But before it could fire—
A shout tore through the alley.
"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!"
Lights flicked on from a balcony above. An old man leaned over the railing. A woman yelled behind him. More windows opened. Metal bars clanged. Voices stacked.
Chain-boy clicked his tongue. "Police uncle awake again."
Tattoo-boy spat on the ground, eyes still on Arjun. "We'll remember you, hero."
They ran off.
The alley exhaled.
Arjun didn't.
He stood frozen, chest rising and falling, fist trembling around nothing. Sweat lined his neck. His hair stuck to his cheeks. His grey-brown eyes felt too tight in his skull, pupils still sharp.
He wasn't hurt.
He should have been.
The old man yelled down, "Are you okay, beta?"
Arjun nodded slowly, voice stuck in his throat.
He walked away before anyone asked more.
When he turned the corner, the System flickered again—the strongest pulse yet.
A full box appeared.
SYSTEM NOTICE
[UNLOCKED: Instinctive Counter Lv. 0] A reactive survival skill triggered under threat. Accuracy depends on: — Stress — Breathing — Vision clarity — Fear
Progress: 0% → 16%
Arjun's knees weakened.
He leaned against a shutter, covering his mouth with shaking fingers.
He wasn't imagining it. He wasn't hallucinating. His body… was changing. And changing fast.
Rudra's voice echoed in his mind:
You're awakening. Not fast. But you are.
Arjun's breathing grew uneven.
He had spent his whole life freezing. Tonight, he didn't freeze.
Tonight, instinct moved first.
And that terrified him more than the knife.