Harshit's elbows came crashing down again and again on the control panel, driven by rage— each strike heavier and more frenzied than before.

  But there were no sparks, only dust bursting from the impact. And when the dust cleared, the control panel remained untouched.

  Not even a single scratch.

  Harshit's breath, which came out in angry bursts, began to slow down as confusion crept into his enraged eyes.

  His next strike stopped mid-air, aware that there would not be any further effect.

  The veins on his forehead twitched as he leaned in forward.

  And then, he saw it.

  "…How?"

  A small hand— trembling, reddened with impact, but unshaken by determination— stood firmly in his path.

  Slowly, Harshit's gaze rose to witness the arrival of Yug Verma.

  His clothes were torn, dust coating streaks of his hair. Yug exhaled slowly through clenched teeth, arriving right on time to take all the strikes on his palm, which now rested on the panel.

  "You'll have to go through me first."

  Dust swirled between as the roller coaster's movement dimmed for a heartbeat.

  There was the kind of calm that slithered before the arrival of a storm.

  ——————————————

  Moments earlier, the world felt like it was vibrating, as if it had a heart of its own.

  The roller coaster's thunderous rattling echoed through the air, drowning every sound with it.

  Tarun rolled his shoulders and cracked his back, ready for impact, his jaw tightening.

  Farhan rubbed both his hands into the ground, coating them with dust for a better grip.

  Rishabh's eyes flicked between the ground and the speeding coaster. His lips moved rapidly, calculating, and then—

  The coaster approached for a dive.

  "Six seconds," he muttered, and then shouted.

  "Tarun! Farhan! Go!"

  Without any hesitation, they began to sprint straight towards the track's base, boots hammering against the gravel.

  The coaster dived down, and a metallic roar filled the air.

  And in that split instant, when the coaster was at its lowest point, both the boys leapt.

  Their hands caught the steel frame mid-swing.

  The impact shook them violently, muscles screaming— but they managed to hold on.

  Tarun's right hand. Farhan's left. Their grips were one spark away from falling.

  Below, the others stared in awe.

  Kritika's hands covered her mouth. Rishabh's eyes were wide with not only disbelief, but also satisfaction.

  But soon after, Rishabh's mouth parted for the next instruction, through the chaos

  "That's it—! This is the shortest gap between two consecutive falls."

  Yug cracked his knuckles, but before he could respond any further—

  "Rishabh!" Kritika's shout sliced through all the noise. Rishabh turned sharply, his pupils dilated.

  The coaster was already descending again. Too early. Too fast.

  "Now, Yug— NOW!"

  Yug's feet pushed off the ground before Rishabh finished his words.

  The air whooshed past his ears as he tore through the friction.

  He stretched both arms forward, fingers open, reaching forward— and two hands caught him.

  Tarun and Farhan. The same grip, same power and the same unspoken trust.

  The roller coaster rattled like it was refusing to take another passenger on board.

  "Swing him!" Tarun roared.

  Farhan gritted his teeth. "One… two… three!"

  They swung Yug with every ounce of energy they had left in their muscles.

  The momentum sent him upward like a human bullet— straight to the top of the coaster.

  For a moment, Yug felt weightless— a heartbeat suspended in air— until gravity remembered him again.

  There, Harshit's elbows were already in motion, about to crush the control panel to dust.

  And right before the impact of Harshit, blinded by anger, Yug's hand blocked it— the same hands that trembled under his own weight had now stopped a storm.

  There panel did not crack.

  Harshit's blows were a failure.

  There was only silence— and the echo of Yug's quiet, ragged breath as his knuckles turned red, trembling but resolute.

  ——————————————

  "—He made it!" Kritika's voice rang out, sharp and trembling with relief.

  Both eyes turned upwards.

  Far above, between the blur of spinning steel and flying dust, they caught a brief glimpse of a silhouette landing on top.

  Yug Verma.

  Then, reality returned— noise, chaos, and a faint hum of confusion echoing through the carnival grounds.

  At the locked gate, dozens of trapped visitors were shouting, stuck at the carnival for hours.

  "Open the damn door!"

  "What's going on? We paid for this?!"

  "Someone wake up the guards!"

  "My wife's hurt! I need refund!"

  But the security guards near the main lay slumped against the walls, unconscious.

  Their radios buzzed faintly, useless.

  None of the visitors could contact anyone, there was no internet.

  Kritika turned back to Rishabh, worry stitched together with her face.

  "Do you think they'll be able to pull it off?"

  But Rishabh didn't answer.

  His eyes were glued at the top— his gaze locked on the CCTV camera at the roller coaster's peak.

  A bright red light flickered rhythmically.

  Flicker. Pause. Flicker.

  A faint breeze brushed through, carrying the faint smell of rust and oil.

  Behind them, something moved.

  Tara lay sprawled on the ground, her face pale, a thin line of dried blood across her temple.

  And then—

  Her fingers twitched once.

  Then again.

  Her wrist jerked, spasmodic.

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  ——————————————

  The roller coaster shook violently, metal groaning under the strain as it twisted towards the next sharp turn.

  Harshit lunged first, elbows and fists raining like hammers. Each blow landed hollow against Yug's body, pain radiating throughout.

  "Too slow!" Harshit snarled, driving a knee to Yug's side. Yug doubled over, wheezing and holding to the safety bar for dear life.

  Behind them, Ronak's eyes burned with a will.

  He had Anaya stable now, pressing her back against a safety bar near an abandoned seat.

  "Stay put!" he shouted, moving towards the fight. Even as he began inching towards the top, the wind threatened to rip him off.

  Harshit grabbed Yug again, fists swinging, each movement precise and lethal.

  Yug dodged one punch, then parried another, but then, the coaster jerked sharply.

  The motion tilted the fight unpredictably— a sudden swing of luck.

  Yug's body was timed with the coaster's turn, and CRACK! His knuckles smashed into Harshit's jaw, sending him staggering back.

  He followed up rapidly— a shoulder to the chest, morphing it into a sharp elbow to the ribs almost instantly, and a final headbutt with his thumbs pressing onto Harshit's temple.

  Harshit roared frustratedly, his voice ripped through the air as he teetered to grab the bars to steady himself.

  Suddenly, another hand gripped a nearby safety bar— Jay Khanna, blood streaking from his bruised forehead. He hauled himself up, his veins pumping adrenaline.

  "I thought you'd miss all the fun." Ronak yelled, gently brushing off dust from Jay's shoulder. The brothers began moving, cutting through the chaos and the noise.

  Harshit regained his footing, his attacks more deadly and calculated than before— Yug blocked, deflected and countered most.

  But, one of the attacks sent him skidding behind.

  "My plan will never fail! Not now! Not ever!"

  Yug, gasping for breath, forced a faint smile.

  "There's… always flaws."

  Before Harshit could respond, Yug dropped low in perfect timing as the coaster tilted left.

  Simultaneously, Ronak and Jay's combined strikes hit Harshit from opposite sides— fists caving into his jaw and temple.

  The attack spun him violently, his balance gone.

  Harshit rolled down the carriage, crashing against a support bar and sliding behind.

  And then, a sharp jolt sent him… hurling dangerously close to Anaya's seat.

  ——————————————

  The rattling of the coaster above seemed to be screaming at the carnival grounds.

  Every creak of the rails echoed down, grabbing the attention of the crowd down below.

  Rishabh crouched near a dented junction box, sweat dripping as he tried to untangle the messed up wires, in an attempt to stop the coaster.

  Beside him, Kritika hovered anxiously, glancing at the top for any signs of the control panel.

  "Just one relay. A single click," Rishabh said, forcing his voice steady.

  "Once the power is back, the brakes will engage. We can stop the coaster before it crashes."

  Kritika nodded, brushing dust off her face. "But if we have a chance now, we can—"

  Suddenly, words stopped coming out of her throat. They both looked up to see the control panel— the one Ronak was holding up— slip from his grasp.

  The panel spun through the air like a sharp blade, gleaming with the faint sunlight of the dawn as it descended.

  Kritika ran— heart pounding, feet skidding across gravel— and caught it before it crashed against the ground, her knees scraping against the dirt.

  She exhaled in relief, dust clouding around her hands.

  "Got it!" She shouted, tossing it towards Rishabh.

  He caught it with both hands, and immediately set it steady. His fingers over the buttons.

  "Almost there… a few seconds, or maybe less."

  Rishabh's focus was razor sharp, until he heard a click that made his stomach drop. He turned.

  Tara was not on the ground anymore.

  A figure stood up slowly— her hair deshelved, blood matting one side of her forehead, but her smirk was eerily calm— and it was Tara.

  Her left hand trembled as she wiped her mouth, and in her right, she held a rusted hammer, hung loosely.

  Rishabh's voice caught his throat, "Kritika… get out… move away—"

  But it was too late for Kritika to react.

  Tara's footsteps were silent, until her arm snapped forward and hooked Kritika by the neck, pulling her closer to the hammer.

  The hammer pressed against Kritika's cheeks, its cool edge tracing across the curve of her face. On the far end, Rishabh froze too.

  "You move that hand," Tara hissed, low and dangerous, "and I will paint her face red."

  Tara's expression wasn't wild, but it was empty.

  As Rishabh's hands trembled more and more, Tara pressed the hammer harder.

  "Do it." Kritika winced through gritted teeth, "Don't think about me."

  Rishabh's throat tightened, eyes burning. His fingers hovered a breath away from the switch.

  But, he didn't have the courage to risk a life for it.

  And then—

  A faint whistle of wind as the coaster approached to dive again.

  Two shadows clung to the coaster. But could they save Kritika?

  ——————————————

  On the coaster, relief swept everyone like a long awaited breath. For the first time in hours, everything felt back on track.

  Yug dropped his guard, Ronak let out a sharp laugh and even Jay smiled faintly.

  But, a sharp, piercing noise caught their attention— it was Anaya's scream.

  They turn sharply, only to see Harshit right behind Anaya, his hand gripping Anaya by her neck. The tip of a broken shard— once a part of the machinery— pressed dangerously close to her skin.

  The entire group froze. The whir of machinery echoed, but the silence was still thick and alive.

  "Don't move!" Harshit shouted, voice cracking with fury. "Not one of you!"

  Yug's body stiffened— his instincts screamed to act, but Jay stopped him, knowing that one wrong move could draw blood.

  Ronak's expressions faltered. His hands trembled slightly, and then turned to a fist.

  "Harshit, let her go." His voice was strained but steady.

  Harshit snarled, pulling Anaya closer. "Admit what you did— right now, right here— and leave the band! Walk away from all of this!"

  The roller coaster began to dive, but no one moved. Their eyes narrowed, and they exchange glances. A quiet, dangerous stillness took over.

  ——————————————

  Down below, the situation was as explosive.

  Tara held Kritika by the hair, like a wild cat ready to strike her any moment.

  As the coaster dived, Farhan and Tarun acknowledged the situation, still holding onto the roller coaster tightly.

  From the side, Farhan's voice boomed, his eyes meeting Tarun's before he was ready to leap.

  "Tara! This ends now!"

  Tara turned just in time to see him, and as the roller coaster groaned while descending, Farhan jumped.

  As he leaped downwards, his body twisted in the air, and he aimed a powerful kick right towards Tara's face.

  "You will not hurt a woman." Tara spoke, her tone venomous, as if she knew she already won.

  For a second, Farhan hesitated— just a flicker of thought— but then his jaw tightened.

  "I won't," he said, grabbing a support beam to stop himself, "but they will!"

  Tara's eyes twitched— but it was too late.

  She turned back, but Kritika slammed her head with Tara's, cracking her nose and moving free from her deadly grasp.

  Rishabh gained enough time, and then— a click— and the whole carnival roared back to power.

  The neon lights, despite the dawn, glowed brightly, lighting every single face among them.

  The music began to play again, bringing back the liveliness the carnival should have had from the very beginning.

  Farhan looked up— eyes finding the distant silhouettes of Ronak, Jay, Yug, and Tarun.

  "It's your turn now." He muttered under his breath.

  ——————————————

  Above, the roller coaster came to a stop, letting a metallic shriek, freezing mid-curve.

  Harshit's eyes darted towards the carnival below— he realised that they'd done it.

  The bright blue and red lights lit all their faces partially, sending a wave of calmness— but doubt cracked through Harshit's furious glare.

  "No… no, no, no— this isn't—"

  But before he could finish, Anaya's eyes flared with fury, "For everything you ruined." she hissed.

  Her knee shot up with brutal precision, slamming hard into his groin.

  Harshit's scream tore through the air, raw and ugly, as he staggered backwards.

  And that was the moment for Tarun to strike.

  He lunged forward— a blur of motion and pent-up rage— his fist connecting with Harshit's jaw. The sound was sharp, raw and final.

  Harshit's body spun with the impact, crashing against the safety bars before crumpling to the floor of the halted roller coaster.

  Anaya stood steady, leaving the railing and she ran to hold Ronak, clutching onto him, embracing him like never before.

  Below them, the carnival lights flickered with full brightness— steady, alive again.

  Tarun turned towards Jay and Yug and gave a single nod. "It's over."

  ——————————————

  The chaos finally faded.

  "Let's get down." Tarun commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried— like a leader who'd seen too much.

  Smoke lazily curled from the wheels of the halted roller coaster. What was once the noise of screams, metal shrieks and crashing wind, now gave away.

  Tarun bought the others— Yug, Ronak, Jay and Anaya— and each step clanged against metal.

  Farhan was already on the ground, his breath heavy but controlled. He had grabbed the traitors.

  Harshit, bleeding and beaten, his eyes half open in disbelief. Tara, shouting at the top of her lungs, unlike her usual calm personality.

  He began tying them against the support beam. The carnival lights, that flickered back to life, illuminated their worn-out faces.

  Farhan's hands trembled as he tied them, pulling the final knot. He wasn't angry any more. Just… disappointed.

  He stared at the faces of people he once called friends— traitors now, their loyalty giving up against the jealousy.

  Farhan crouched in front of Tara, her face pale under the orange hue of the lights.

  You know," he whispered, "Ronak loved you."

  Tara's lips parted, but no words came out of it.

  The silence between them was heavier than any other word or scream.

  Her eyes flickered towards Ronak, standing a few feet away, bruised and limping, watching her quietly.

  There was no anger in his gaze. Just an ache— a kind that came from a betrayal that hurt too deep to hate anymore.

  Behind him, Anaya and Kritika worked fast, wrapping gauze around the deep wound on his chest, the bleeding almost stopped.

  Anaya shook her head, voice switched between scolding and relief.

  "Why'd you lie to us, you little imbicle."

  Ronak exhaled a faint laugh, one side of his mouth twitching upwards.

  "Doesn't matter now," he muttered, "We're all together… that's what counts"

  A few feet away, Rishabh and Yug stood watching— battered, bruised, but grinning like the kids who survived the impossible.

  Rishabh looked at the quiet mess of the carnival— half-lit stalls, damaged rides, scattered debris— and exhaled sharply.

  "We did it." He whispered.

  Yug grinned back, tired but proud. "Yeah… we did it, brother."

  "And yeah," Rishabh continued, "How's it humanly possible for you to hold the coaster, Tarun." But, something was missing.

  Rishabh looked around

  "Wait—"

  Yug's tone shifted, "Where's Tarun?"

  Tarun Singh had disappeared.

  And somewhere in the distance… a faint, cold thunder began to roll.

  ——————————————

  The dawn was heavy with smoke and laughter when the faint twang of the guitar strings broke the silence.

  It was off-key.

  Painfully off-key.

  All eyes turned.

  There, under the flickering spotlight of the stage, stood Tarun. He sat on a stool, awkwardly holding the guitar on his lap.

  His face— bleeding, injured— carried a faint, cooked smile.

  "Ladies and gentlemen…" he said, tapping the microphone that let out a shrill screech.

  "Apologies for the inconvenience. But—" his fingers brushed against the guitar again, the notes jangling, "— here goes the refund."

  The crowd stared, confused for a moment.

  Then, someone at the back laughed.

  And slowly, another. One by one, the laugh spread like it was contagious, life returning back to the carnival.

  Ronak, now walking towards the stage with all the others, broke into a wheezing giggle.

  "God… he's tone deaf." He muttered, half to himself.

  Anaya looked at him and smiled brightly. "At least, he's trying. For all of us."

  One by one, the group began to move towards the stage. Yug hopped in first— half-grinning, half-limping.

  Rishabh followed, quickly taking control over the instruments, setting the volume and the bass.

  Farhan banged a soda can like a beatboxer, holding iron rods like sticks for drums.

  Anaya joined, getting on the piano instantly.

  "Fine. Let's make it terrible together."

  The crowd began clapping along— a mismatched rhythm that somehow fit perfectly.

  Kritika stood beside the stage, laughing nervously, not ready to go to the stage.

  Suddenly, Rishabh walked towards her with a mischievous grin. "We need a singer. And I believe you'll pull something off."

  "No. I don't think—"

  But before she could argue, Rishabh gently grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her onto the stage. The crowd cheered as she fumbled forward, blushing furiously.

  Then— she began to sing.

  Softly at first, but her voice was surprisingly beautiful. Her melody cut through the chaos, a tender voice that touched all souls.

  Below down, near the stage, Ronak smiled at the beautiful mess his friends created.

  After hours,. everything felt alive, messy, but human and joyous.

  Light shimmered on his face, now reflecting the calm after the storm.

  But then, his hands brushed against a phone on the ground— cracked, but glowing faintly with a notification— that belonged to Kritika.

  The last note of the song rang out, the final chord out of place— but the crowd burst into cheers like it was the best concert they saw.

  Tarun raised his hands, grinning.

  "For Ronnie!"

  Then, the whole group, laughing, yelled back in unison and pride.

  "For Ronnie!"

  Slowly, Ronak got up from the ground, his bandaged arm raised up to gain attention.

  "Guys," he said, smirking, "uh… I found one of your phones…"

  They turned, mid-laugh, curious.

  "And…" his grin turned awkward, "our exams are next week!"

  A collective pause.

  Finally from the stage—

  "NOOOOO!"

  ——————————————

  Far away from the city of Uttar Pradesh, a polished, clean office room gleamed under the harsh glow of the crystal chandelier.

  The room was impossibly neat— sleek glass panels, leather chairs and the faint hum of the air conditioners— a shrine of wealth and precision.

  A woman say behind a massive mahogany desk, her gaze fixed on a tablet in her hands.

  The screen flickered over and over again, replaying the moment recorded by the CCTV camera in the carnival.

  Yug Verma landed blow after blow on Harshit, each strike sharper than the last, taking advantage of the window he got to strike.

  The woman's grip tightened around the tablet as her knuckles whitened. Finally, with a snap of frustration, the tablet shattered against the desk. Glass and circuitry skittered across the floor.

  She rose smoothly, her heels pressing against the marble as she pressed a small brass bell.

  Moments after, a man in a dark suit appeared at the doorway, deferential and alert.

  "Ma'am?" He asked, confused.

  "I want him." She said, voice cold and cruel, "I want that child. And everyone associated with this incident." She walked forward, "He hurt him."

  The man's brows furrowed, but he didn't dare to utter a single whisper in front of her.

  Beyond the office, the building was no ordinary financial institution. Employees moved with discipline and uniformity, as if they were programmed to do so.

  All looked professional, catering to the customers at the bank, but they were all armed with guns under the tailored attire.

  The bank's facade was lightened faintly by the sun, modern and imposing, yet perfectly ordinary to an unknown eye.

  Above the entrance, polished letters spelled:

  "JINDAL BANKS AND SERVICES"

  "He hurt him." The woman continued, "Her hurt little brother." Her eyes narrowed, almost burning through the man infront of her.

  "Yes. Akshita Ma'am," The man replied with caution, "but… where should I bring him?"

  A slow, low laugh filled the room— rich, maniac, and chilling. The woman leaned back, her fingertips steepled.

  "Bring him to The Circle."

  The name hung in the air like a promise— dark, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.

  And at the heart of the polished empire sat Akshita Jindal, Harshit's sister, the architect of the next threat— poised, merciless, and laughing, hollow, at the thought of what was to come next.