The next morning, my body felt like I had been put through a washing machine on the 'Heavy Duty' cycle.
My muscles ached. My left wrist—where the Astra-Chakra sat invisible under a glamour Riya had taught me—felt hot and itchy.
I walked through the school gates, keeping my head down.
Just act normal, I told myself. You are Aryan.
You like video games and sleeping. You did not blow up a construction crane yesterday.
But the school was buzzing. The atmosphere was different. Usually, people were glued to their phones watching reels of cats or dancing. Today, everyone was huddled in groups, whispering.
"Did you see it?"
"The footage is blurry, but that was definitely a Class-B spell."
"Sector 9. My cousin lives near there. He heard the explosion."
My stomach did a backflip.
I opened my locker, trying to hide behind the metal door.
"Hey."
I jumped about a foot in the air.
Riya was standing right behind me. She wasn't wearing her usual cool, detached expression. She looked... stressed. She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the empty AV Room nearby.
"Ow! Hey! What gives?"
She slammed the door and locked it. She pulled out her phone and shoved it in my face.
"Congratulations," she hissed. "You're trending."
On the screen was a video. It was shaky, filmed from a high-rise apartment window probably a mile away from the construction site.
It showed a cloud of grey dust. And then, a beam of pure, concentrated fire slicing through a crane cable.
And for one second—just one clear second—the camera zoomed in.
It showed a figure with charcoal skin and burning hair standing on the scaffolding.
The title of the video: UNKNOWN HUNTER OR ROGUE ASURA? FIRE DEMON SPOTTED IN SECTOR 9.
Views: 4.2 Million.
"Oh," I said weakly. "The camera quality is... surprisingly good."
"This isn't funny, Aryan!" Riya paced the small room. "The ADTF (Anti-Demon Task Force) has algorithms that scan for unlicensed magic use. They scrubbed this video from YouTube in ten minutes, but it's already on the Hunter Forums. It's on the Dark Web. People are analyzing the frame data."
She pointed at the screen.
"Look at the comments."
* User_Slayer69: That's not a standard Fireball. That looks like Ancient Magic.
* Void_Walker: Is that a new Vigilante? The movement is sloppy. Definitely an amateur.
* Gov_Bot_01: [This thread has been flagged for review.]
"They are hunting you," Riya said grimly.
"Not monsters. The Government. If they find out a kid has a God-Class weapon, they won't ask nicely."
BING-BONG.
The school PA system crackled to life.
"Aryan Sharma of Grade 11-B. Please report to the Principal's Office immediately. Aryan Sharma to the Principal's Office."
My blood turned to ice.
I looked at Riya. She went pale.
"Run?" I whispered.
"If you run, you confirm it," she whispered back. "You have to go. Deny everything.
You're just a student. You were at home gaming. Do not let them check your wrist."
She handed me a small, silver sticker. "Put this over the Chakra. It scrambles mana readings. It's a temporary fix. Go."
The Principal's Office
The walk to the office felt like walking to the gallows.
I pushed the door open.
Principal Das wasn't there.
Instead, a man in a sharp, black suit was sitting on the edge of the Principal's desk. He was peeling an orange.
He looked normal, except for the silver pin on his lapel—the emblem of the ADTF.
He looked up. He had tired eyes and a scar running through his left eyebrow.
"Aryan Sharma," he said, his voice smooth like gravel. "Have a seat."
I sat. I tried to stop my leg from bouncing.
"Is... is Principal Das here? Did I fail Math again? Because I swear I studied—"
"I am Agent Rathore," the man interrupted. He didn't offer a handshake. "I'm not here about your grades. Although, a D-minus in Algebra is concerning."
He finished peeling the orange and placed a segment in his mouth.
"Where were you yesterday evening between 5:00 PM and 7:00 PM?"
"Home," I lied instantly. "Playing Elden Ring. I was stuck on a boss."
"Hm." Rathore pulled out a tablet.
"Interesting. Because your phone's GPS signal vanished during that time. And traffic cameras caught a boy matching your build entering Sector 9."
He slid the tablet across the desk.
It wasn't the viral video. It was a high-resolution photo of me, climbing the fence into the construction site. My face was blurry, but the backpack—my bright yellow backpack with the 'Ben 10' keychain (ironic)—was clearly visible.
"That's a popular backpack," I said, my throat dry.
Rathore leaned forward. The air in the room got heavy. I felt a pressure—actual physical pressure—pushing down on me. something woke up in this city. We detected a massive energy spike two days ago. Energy that matches readings from the Ancient Scriptures. If you know something... if you found something... you need to tell me. For your own safety."
He looked at my left hand. I had pulled my sleeve down to my knuckles.
"Is your wrist still sprained?" he asked.
"Yes."
"May I see it?"
"It hurts to move it."
Rathore stood up. He walked around the desk.
"I have a Healing Skill. I can fix a sprain in three seconds."
He reached for my arm.
Panic.
If he touches the bracelet, even with the sticker, he'll feel the metal. He'll know.
"I..." I started to pull away.
Rathore's grip was like steel. He grabbed my forearm.
"Let me see, Aryan."
He started to pull up my sleeve.
I saw the silver edge of the Astra-Chakra.
Game over.
SLAM.
The office door flew open.
"Agent Rathore!" a voice boomed.
"Harassing my students without a warrant?"
We both looked.
Leaning against the doorframe, looking utterly unimpressed, was Vikram Malhotra.
The School Ace. The Rival.
Vikram walked in, holding a file.
"My father, the CEO of Astra-Tech, contributes 40% of the ADTF's budget, doesn't he? I believe the protocol states that minor interrogations require a guardian or legal counsel present."
Rathore didn't let go of my arm. He stared at Vikram.
"This is an active investigation, Mr. Malhotra. It doesn't concern you."
"It concerns me when you disrupt my dodgeball team's practice," Vikram lied smoothly. "Aryan is my teammate. And he was with me yesterday evening."
My eyes widened.
Rathore paused. He looked at me, then at Vikram.
"He was with you?"
"Yes," Vikram said, not blinking. "At the Astra-Tech private gym. We were training.
His GPS was off because our facility is shielded. Is there a problem?"
Silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds.
Rathore slowly let go of my arm.
He smoothed his suit jacket.
"No problem," Rathore said. He picked up his tablet. "If Vikram Malhotra vouches for you... then it must be a mistake."
He walked to the door, stopping right next to me.
"Be careful, Aryan. Fire is dangerous. If you play with it, you inevitably get burned."
He left.
I slumped into the chair, sweating buckets.
I looked up at Vikram.
"Why?" I asked. "Why did you save me?"
Vikram walked over, grabbed my collar, and hauled me out of the chair. He slammed me against the wall—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make a point.
"I didn't save you," Vikram whispered, his eyes intense. "I bought you. You owe me now."
He leaned in close.
"I know you have it. The Device. My father has been looking for that signature for twenty years."
He let go of me and brushed off my shoulder.
"I'm not going to turn you in, Aryan. Because I want to see what it can do. And when the time is right... I'm going to beat you and prove that I'm better than some ancient relic."
He turned and walked away.
"Don't be late for practice."