If saving the world was my destiny, why was my current mission carrying fifty kilograms of cardboard props for the Drama Club?
"Move it, Aryan! The 'Forest of Dreams' set needs to be up by noon!"
I groaned, hauling a fake plywood tree through the crowded hallway.
"I can vaporize a demon dog," I muttered to myself. "I can catch a mach-speed dodgeball. But I am still a slave to the Student Council."
It was the St. Xavier's Annual Cultural Festival. The one day a year where the school transformed into a chaotic carnival of food stalls, haunted houses, and bad karaoke.
The air smelled of popcorn and teenage desperation.
"Quit mumbling," Riya appeared beside me. She was wearing a maid outfit.
I dropped the plywood tree. "Whoa. What are you wearing?"
"Class 2-A is doing a Maid Cafe," she said, her face deadpan. She adjusted her glasses, which looked ridiculous with the frilly headband. "Don't say a word. Not one word."
"I wasn't going to—"
"I'm scanning the perimeter," she whispered, ignoring the outfit. "My sensors have been acting weird all morning. A low-frequency hum. Like static."
"Maybe it's the sound system?" I suggested. "The DJ is playing terrible EDM."
"Maybe," Riya frowned. "Just keep your guard up. And don't use the Chakra unless people are dying. Rathore is probably watching the school feeds."
She vanished into the crowd of students
I sighed and picked up the fake tree.
"Keep my guard up. Sure. I'll just parry the popcorn with my mind."
The Auditorium - 1:00 PM
I escaped the labor duty and snuck into the back of the auditorium. The main event was starting: The Talent Show.
Vikram Malhotra was on stage, of course. He was playing the piano. And of course, he was perfect at it. The girls in the front row were practically fainting.
He finished the piece. Thunderous applause.
He stood up, bowed, and looked directly at the back of the room. At me.
He smirked.
Show off, I thought.
Suddenly, the microphone screeched.
EEEEEEEEEEE.
The audience covered their ears. Vikram frowned, tapping the mic stand.
The lights in the auditorium flickered. Then they died.
Pitch black.
"Hey! Who cut the power?" someone yelled.
Then came the purple light.
It didn't come from the bulbs. It came from the windows.
I looked outside. The sunny afternoon sky was gone. A swirling, dark purple dome had encased the entire school grounds.
"A Barrier?" I whispered. "No way. A barrier this big..."
crack.
CRACK.
The sound came from the stage. The wooden floorboards were splintering.
Vikram stepped back as a hand—a grey, rotting hand—punched through the wood.
Then another. Then a dozen.
Shadows began to pool on the floor, bubbling like tar. From the shadows, figures rose. Skeletons wearing tattered military uniforms. Ghouls with hollow eyes.
The students screamed. Panic erupted instantly.
"It's a prank!" someone yelled. "It's part of the show!"
A Ghoul lunged at a student in the front row.
FLASH.
Vikram moved.
He didn't use a weapon. He used his leg. A kick so fast it broke the sound barrier.
BAM.
The Ghoul's head flew off, hitting the back wall.
"It's not a prank!" Vikram roared, his voice cutting through the screams. "Everyone get out! Evacuate to the gym! NOW!"
More shadows bubbled up. Not just on stage. Everywhere. In the aisles. By the doors.
The "Purple Mist Man"—The Necromancer—floated down from the ceiling rafters. He wore a black suit and a theatre mask.
"Welcome, students!" his voice boomed, amplified by magic. "I apologize for the interruption. I am looking for a specific item.
A stolen heirloom."
He pointed a gloved finger at the crowd.
"Bring me the boy with the golden wrist. And I will let the rest of you live."
All eyes didn't turn to me—because nobody knew.
But I knew.
I was hiding behind a curtain in the back. My heart was hammering.
He's here for me. He trapped everyone I know in a box with zombies.
Riya's voice crackled in my ear (she had given me a comms earpiece earlier).
"Aryan! Do not engage! I'm coming to you! If you transform now, you expose yourself to the whole school!"
"Riya, look at the stage!" I hissed. "Vikram is fighting a dozen of them, but they keep getting back up!"
On stage, Vikram was a whirlwind of violence. He was punching skeletons into dust, but the purple mist just reformed them.
He was strong, but he couldn't kill what was already dead.
A massive creature—a Bone Golem assembled from five different skeletons—rose behind Vikram. It raised a massive club made of femurs.
Vikram was distracted by a Ghoul. He didn't see it.
"Vikram!" I yelled.
My body moved before my brain did.
Screw the secret, I thought. Screw Agent Rathore.
I jumped over the seats, sprinting down the aisle.
The Necromancer saw me. "Ah. There you are."
He flicked his finger.
The Bone Golem swung its club at Vikram.
And a wave of black spikes shot toward me from the floor.
I slammed my hand on the bracelet.
< OVERRIDE. >
< SITUATION: CRITICAL. >
< ADRENALINE LEVELS: HIGH. >
< AVATAR: AGNI. >
WHOOSH.
The explosion of fire blew the seats apart. I launched myself into the air, a comet of orange flame.
I flew over the students' heads.
"Vikram! Duck!"
Vikram looked up. He saw a flaming demon hurtling toward him.
He didn't ask questions. He dropped to the floor.
I slammed into the Bone Golem.
"BLAZING FIST!"
BOOM.
The impact incinerated the Golem instantly.
The shockwave cleared the stage of the smaller Ghouls.
I landed in a crouch, the stage floor turning to charcoal beneath my burning feet.
I stood up, wreathed in fire, facing the Necromancer.
The auditorium went silent.
Hundreds of students stared at me.
Vikram stood up, dusting off his suit. He looked at my flaming form.
"Took you long enough, Torch-Head,"
Vikram smirked.
I looked at the Necromancer.
"You ruined the festival," I growled, my voice distorted and deep. "And you made Riya wear a maid outfit for nothing. You're going to pay."