Somewhere on the battlefield, a man with long red hair lay broken in his suit of armor—writhing in pain, coughing blood that stained the dirt beneath him. The world around him felt distant, unreal, as if time itself had slowed to a crawl. Screams echoed far away, blurred and hollow. He forced his eyes open and scanned the battlefield, his thoughts scattered.
Is everyone alright?
Am I dying?
Why does everything feel so slow?
Then he saw it.
A vast shadow forming in the empty space above him—immense, calm, and impossibly familiar. It didn't terrify him. Instead, it felt soothing, like a presence he had known long before this life.
He let out a weak chuckle.
"Huh... is that you, Lord Krishna?"
"Haha."
The shadow laughed.
As it gently lifted him from the ground, a voice echoed—warm, amused, eternal.
"So, you knew it was me?"
The man smiled through the pain. "Yeah. I had a hunch."
"And how are you feeling now?" the voice asked.
"Just like always," the man replied softly. "It hurts—but it feels right."
A pause.
"Do you regret your actions?" the voice asked.
"At first," the man said. "But not anymore."
"Hm". lord krishna seemed pleased. "Then I want to hear everything. Your journey. Your past. How you arrived here."
The man sighed, coughing once more. "Are you sure you want to listen my lord? It's a long story. And I'm still wounded, you know."
lord krishna laughed again.
"Did you forget who I am, boy? Come on—you've got me curious now. Tell me."
The man closed his eyes, then smirked.
"All right... brace yourself. You're about to hear the story of the greatest loser."
He paused.
"...Now where do I even begin?"
"As lord krishna waited, my memories pulled me back to another life..."
It felt as if time itself had stopped.
Rain poured relentlessly from the sky, cold and heavy, mixing with the blood beneath my body. I lay there on the street, barely conscious, pain tearing through my stomach with every shallow breath I took. My vision blurred, sounds stretched and distorted, as if the world had decided to slow down just to watch me suffer.
I remembered this moment.
I remembered the pain.
I had been shot—three bullets straight through my stomach.
I was from another universe, another world where i was working under a mafia gang. For years, I did everything they asked—transporting goods, cleaning messes, obeying orders without question. But eventually, I had enough. I wanted out. I wanted to live whatever life I had left freely, without blood on my hands.
So I went to him.
Francis Carlos—the mafia boss who controlled the eastern parts of Mumbai.
I asked for permission to leave.
No explanations. No reasons.
I was prepared for threats, punishment... even death.
But instead, he simply said, "You can take your leave."
Just like that.
I was stunned. Confused. Something felt wrong—but I didn't question it. I thanked him and left before he could change his mind.
Back in my room, I packed my bags in a hurry. I was finally leaving this city. Leaving this cursed life behind. The airport was only hours away.
Then the doorbell rang.
My hands trembled as I walked toward the door. Through the glass, I saw him.
Samar.
My closest friend.
The only person I could call family.
I let him in.
"What's the matter?" I asked. "I was just about to leave the city."
He looked surprised. "Why didn't you tell me before leaving? Our colleagues informed me. I thought I should at least see you off."
That was when doubt crept in.
I only spoke to the boss.
How do they know?
But I ignored it.
I trusted him.
That was my mistake.
We got into the car, supposedly heading for the airport. Instead, he drove us deep into the narrow gullies of Mumbai—beggars' streets, slums stacked upon slums.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my heart pounding.
Before I could say anything else—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three shots.
Pain exploded inside me as bullets tore through my stomach. I gasped, choking on blood, unable to scream. Samar dragged me out of the car and threw me onto the wet street like garbage.
I heard him making a call.
"Yes, sir. I've killed Roshan. Thrown him in the slums."
A photo was taken.
As my vision faded, I looked at him and whispered,
"Why...? I thought we were family."
He didn't answer.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly—and walked away.
Rain washed over me as I lay there, dying.
So this is how it ends, I thought.
Betrayed by the only family I had.
No parents.
No love.
No marriage.
Thrown into a pit to die like trash.
"I lived like a dog," I laughed weakly. "No... even dogs have it better than me."
Tears mixed with rain.
Why?
What did I do to deserve this?
All I wanted was freedom.
I wasn't going to expose them. I wasn't going to the police.
But it didn't matter anymore.
"I'm glad this life is ending," I whispered. "May my next life be peaceful... I hope he finds love."
Lightning split the sky.
Suddenly, a woman's voice echoed inside my head—deep, desperate, trembling.
"Help us... please. I will grant all your wishes... ple—please... help us—"
The voice faded.
My soul was ripped apart.
Pulled into a rift.
Everything went black.
—
When I opened my eyes again, my head spun violently. I struggled to breathe as panic flooded my chest. The ground beneath me felt unfamiliar. The air was different.
This wasn't Mumbai.
"Where the hell am I...?" I whispered.
And that was the moment my real story began.
To be continued...