Mr. Sharma let go of Yuvraj.
Not deliberately.
Instinctively.
Hope was heavier than fear.
He staggered forward, half-running, half-crying, arms outstretched toward the man in uniform at the end of the corridor.
"Thank God," he sobbed.
"Thank God you came."
Yuvraj stayed where he was.
Half-slumped against the wall.
Limbs still numb.
Breathing shallow.
Paralyzed, but not helpless.
The hallway distorted subtly as Mr. Sharma crossed the invisible boundary.
Doors drifted farther apart.
Gravity leaned forward.
The Rakshasa didn't move.
It waited.
Yuvraj's mind raced, clean and sharp despite the pain.
Variables assembled themselves automatically.
Option A:
Scream.
Warn Mr. Sharma.
Outcome projection:
The entity reacts instantly.
Kills the loudest threat first.
Then kills the immobile one.
Probability of survival: Near zero.
Option B:
Silence.
Observation.
Outcome projection:
The entity prioritizes the closer, louder prey.
Time window created.
Probability of survival: Non-zero.
Yuvraj's jaw clenched.
He felt the scream rise anyway.
Human reflex. Unwanted.
He crushed it.
Cold logic overrode instinct.
If one of us has to die, he thought,
it won't be the one who understands the rules.
Mr. Sharma reached the policeman.
He grabbed the uniform with both hands, sobbing openly now.
"They said gas leak… everything disappeared…"
"Please… please take me home…"
The Rakshasa smiled wider.
Its chest expanded.
Not with breath.
With intent.
The fabric of the uniform split cleanly down the center.
Skin followed.
Then bone.
Ribs unfolded outward like the petals of a grotesque flower.
Each one bending backward, serrated, vibrating at a predatory frequency.
Mr. Sharma froze.
His prayer cut off mid-syllable.
The sound that followed wasn't a scream.
It was a compression.
A wet, crunching collapse as his torso was pulled inward, bones folding, organs liquefying under impossible pressure.
The Rakshasa didn't bite.
Didn't tear.
It absorbed.
Mr. Sharma's arms flailed once, fingers scraping uselessly at the edges of the opening.
Then they were gone.
The hallway fell silent.
No echo.
No aftersound.
Just absence.
Yuvraj watched.
Unblinking.
Heart hammering, not with fear, but focus.
Vibrational Parse activated at minimal capacity.
The Rakshasa's feeding pattern resolved into data.
The ribs vibrated at low-frequency dominance waves.
Designed to override molecular cohesion.
Matter didn't resist.
It complied.
The entity's core pulsed irregularly, like a heart that didn't need oxygen.
Feeding on entropy release, not flesh.
Death wasn't the goal.
Disorder was.
Yuvraj catalogued everything.
Absorption radius.
Reaction delay.
Post-feed lethargy window.
No grief interfered.
Mr. Sharma was already gone the moment he ran.
The System stirred.
Slow.
Judging.
CALCULATED SACRIFICE DETECTED
A chill ran through Yuvraj, not guilt.
Recognition.
KARMA ADJUSTMENT:
-50 NEGATIVE KARMA ACQUIRED
The number burned itself into his awareness.
Heavy.
Permanent.
Another line followed.
ENTROPY OF DEATH ABSORPTION DETECTED
SPIRIT ENERGY RECOVERY: +8
Warmth seeped back into his limbs.
Pins and needles.
Pain sharpened into sensation.
SPIRIT ENERGY: 8/100
Enough.
The Rakshasa finished feeding.
Its chest closed seamlessly, ribs sliding back into place like a zipper reversed.
The uniform reformed.
Clean.
No blood.
It stood still for a moment, processing.
Yuvraj didn't wait for curiosity.
He dragged himself backward, every movement silent, deliberate.
His fingers found the edge of a maintenance vent half-hidden behind a floating door.
Metal hummed faintly.
Loose.
Perfect.
He pulled it open just enough and rolled sideways, suppressing a groan as his ribs protested.
Inside the vent.
Dark.
Tight.
Safe-ish.
He slid the cover back into place with millimeter precision.
Outside, the Rakshasa tilted its head.
As if listening.
Yuvraj lay still, sweat cooling on his skin.
The image of Mr. Sharma didn't linger.
Only the data did.
The hallway groaned softly as reality recalculated.
Yuvraj closed his eyes.
Not in shame.
In acceptance.
Because now he understood the final equation.
Survival wasn't about being good.
It was about being accurate.