The repair shop sat tucked beneath a flickering yellow sign that buzzed like a dying insect. Bhaskar kept the lights low to save electricity, so the inside always felt like a half-remembered dream—dim, dusty, and filled with the metallic smell of soldered wire.
As Arjun stepped inside, the doorbell jingled weakly, announcing him with a tired chime.
Bhaskar looked up from his stool. He was in his usual outfit: grease-stained white vest, navy shorts, and glasses slipping off a sweaty nose. His hairline had retreated years ago, leaving a gleaming patch that reflected the tube light.
His eyes widened the moment he saw Arjun's face.
"Arre… what happened to you?" His voice wasn't loud, but the concern in it hit harder than any punch.
Arjun's shirt stuck to his bruised ribs. His long hair was tangled from sweat, clinging to his jawline. He tried straightening it, but his hand still trembled from the alley.
"Just a long day," Arjun murmured.
Bhaskar stared at him—really stared. A rare thing in this city.
His gaze fell to Arjun's shaking fingers.
"Your hands… they never shake." He stood, wiping his palms on a dirty rag. "Sit. Sit."
Arjun obeyed silently. The worn wooden chair creaked under him.
The shop was warm. Safe. Full of humming electronics and half-fixed devices.
Yet Arjun's heartbeat felt too fast for the room.
"Drink water," Bhaskar said, handing him a steel cup.
Arjun took it. The metal felt cold. Too cold.
His hand shook again.
Bhaskar frowned deeply. "What did those school idiots do today?"
Arjun didn't answer.
Because it wasn't Samar this time. It wasn't school.
It was instinct. It was him.
Bhaskar sat opposite him, eyes softening behind the thick lenses.
"You're a good kid, Arjun," he said. "Not the type who starts trouble. If someone hurt you—"
"I'm fine," Arjun cut in quietly.
But the lie cracked in the middle.
Bhaskar didn't push. He just sighed—the heavy kind adults sigh when they've learned some fights aren't theirs to win.
"Show me your hand," Bhaskar said.
Arjun hesitated.
"Come on."
Arjun extended his right hand. Bhaskar held it gently, turning it palm-up. The contrast was striking—Bhaskar's thick, rough fingers holding Arjun's thin, delicate ones. Hands that had known long hours, poverty, bruises, and stubborn survival.
Bhaskar's brows knitted together. "You're burning up… and your pulse is racing."
Arjun looked away. He didn't want questions he couldn't answer.
At that moment—
The door jingled.
A customer walked in—a tall teenage boy in a different school uniform, hair pushed back with too much gel.
The boy paused when he saw Arjun. His gaze lingered on the bruise peeking from under Arjun's collar.
"Bro… You good?" the boy asked, tone half concern, half curiosity.
Arjun nodded, but the boy didn't buy it. He whispered to Bhaskar, loud enough for Arjun to hear:
"That's the guy Samar smashed this morning, right?"
Bhaskar's eyes snapped toward Arjun. He hadn't known.
The silence tightened.
Arjun felt heat creep up his neck. Shame mixed with exhaustion. His breath shortened.
He stood. "I should work."
"Arjun—" Bhaskar began, but Arjun was already moving.
He sat at the workbench and pulled the half-repaired phone toward him. His long hair fell over his face like a curtain, hiding his expression. His fingers traced the circuit board, memorizing its layout.
Normally, this calmed him.
Today, it didn't.
His fingers trembled again.
The blue flicker appeared.
[Instinctive Counter Progress: 16% → 20%] [Micro-Stability Required]
Words blinked beneath the message:
BREATHE.
Arjun inhaled slowly.
But the inhale felt… different.
Sharper. Cleaner. More controlled.
His hand steadied.
Bhaskar watched from the corner, worry etched into every line on his face.
Arjun placed the micro-soldering tip onto the circuit. And something strange happened.
His vision narrowed just slightly—not blurry, but focused. Like the world dimmed everything except the wire he needed to fix.
His hand moved smoothly. Too smoothly.
One motion. One clean weld.
Perfect.
He blinked, startled.
The system flickered again.
[Fine Motor Control +1%]
Arjun exhaled shakily. "What's happening to me…?"
A voice answered from the doorway.
"You're adapting."
Arjun's heart lurched.
Rudra leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his broad chest. Long dark hair tied back. The hoodie was half-zipped. Expression unreadable. His silver-brown eyes surveyed the room with a predator's calm.
Bhaskar stiffened. "And who are you?"
Rudra didn't even glance at him. "No one you want to know."
His eyes stayed on Arjun.
"You didn't freeze today," Rudra said quietly. "Good."
The memory of the knife flashed behind Arjun's eyes. His breath stumbled.
Bhaskar stepped protectively between them. "You look like those men who bring trouble. Leave the boy alone."
Rudra's gaze shifted for the first time—just slightly.
And in that microsecond, Bhaskar flinched.
Not because Rudra threatened him. Because Rudra's presence hit like a cold wind running through old bones.
"I'm not here to hurt him," Rudra said.
His voice carried weight. Heavy. Measured. Scarred.
He walked closer.
Arjun's grey-brown eyes widened as Rudra stopped beside him, lifting the repaired phone lightly.
"Good work," Rudra said. "Steady hands mean a steady mind. You'll need both."
Arjun lowered his gaze. "I didn't do it. My body just… moved."
"That's adaptation." Rudra's tone softened just enough to be noticeable. "Your instincts are waking. They'll feel unnatural. They'll scare you. They should."
Arjun swallowed. "Why me?"
Rudra's jaw clenched.
"If I told you the truth now, it would break you."
Arjun's breath caught. His chest tightened.
Rudra stepped back.
"In three days," he said, "something will happen at your school."
Arjun froze.
Rudra's eyes hardened.
"You must be ready."
The system pulsed hard.
[Main Quest: Prepare] Time Limit: 72 Hours Penalty: Severe Reward: Unknown
Arjun felt the room spin.
Bhaskar looked between them, confused and uneasy. "Arjun… what is all this?"
Arjun couldn't answer.
Rudra turned toward the door but paused, glancing over his shoulder, expression darker now.
"And Arjun—"
Arjun lifted his face.
"Stay away from Samar."
Arjun's heart dropped.
"Why?"
Rudra's eyes sharpened, silver under the harsh fluorescent light.
"Because he's not your enemy."
Arjun's chest went cold.
"Not yet."
Then Rudra disappeared into the night.
Leaving Arjun with a shaking heart, a glowing system, and a 72-hour countdown—and a truth scarier than violence:
Samar wasn't the danger. He was part of the storm coming.