The garden was illuminated by a haunting, blue light as the veins in Manish’s arms began to glow beneath his skin, pulsing in rhythm with the moon. With a roar of pure celestial pressure, the Banyan root cuffs—shattered into splinters.

  Manish coiled to spring, but Ruek’s voice sliced through the air like a cold blade. "If you attack, I will snap his neck," Ruek hissed, his claws sinking deeper into Aadhi’s throat.

  Manish froze. His fists tightened until his knuckles turned white, the blue energy crackling around his skin, but he slowly released his grip. He was a Kartha, a hunter of the night, but in this moment, he was only a father.

  Taking advantage of his restraint, the twenty-nine mixed-blood vampires swarmed him. They attacked with a feral, suppressed rage, tearing into his flesh. Manish did not fight back. He stood as a silent pillar, absorbing every blow to keep Ruek’s hand still. His crisp white shirt was quickly soaked a deep, wet crimson. Finally, under the weight of the brutal assault, Manish collapsed into the dirt, slipping toward unconsciousness.

  The mixed-blood vampires began to kick and humiliate him, laughing as the legendary Kartha lay broken. Ruek joined the mocking laughter. "See? You are nothing. This kid—your son—he has the potential to be a future Vessel. How could I ever let such a threat live?"

  Manish struggled to open his eyes, his vision swimming in red, but his body refused to move. With a sneer, Ruek threw Aadhi’s limp body toward the stone wall. The boy’s head hit the masonry with a sickening thud. Blood began to seep from his hairline, though his chest still rose and fell with shallow breaths.

  As Ruek stepped toward the injured boy to deliver the final blow, a figure stepped in his path.

  "Do not touch him," Raksha said, her voice trembling but firm. She crossed her arms, shielding Aadhi.

  Ruek looked at Rakhi, who was watching in stunned silence. "Raksha, what are you doing?" Rakhi shouted. "Have you lost your mind?"

  "I see," Ruek purred, staring into Raksha’s green eyes. "You love this human. That love has made you forget what you are. Do you think he would still love you if he saw your true, hideous form?"

  "Whatever he thinks, I don't care," Raksha replied, tears streaming down her face. "But I won't let him die. If you want him, you kill me first."

  "Alright," Ruek growled, "let it be."

  The vampires stopped their torment of Manish to watch the execution. One lone mixed-blood stayed behind, mockingly counting his kicks into Manish’s ribs. "Ninety-one... ninety-two... ninety-nine..."

  As the vampire’s leg swung for the hundredth strike, a blood-stained hand shot out and gripped his ankle with the strength of a vice.

  "Are you done?" Manish’s voice was a low, guttural rasp.

  ?With a sickening twist, Manish tore the leg completely off and threw the screaming vampire aside. He wiped the blood from his nose, though more continued to pour from a gash above his eye, blurring his vision.

  ?As Manish stood, the sky suddenly broke.

  Rain fell in sudden, violent sheets, droplets rippling through the stagnant pools of blood at his feet. The rain washed the blood from his face, and his eyes slowly opened - inhuman blue.

  In a blur of blue light, he became a whirlwind of vengeance. He began striking; his punches were slow, steady, and laden with the weight of a dying star. Each hit cost a vampire's life. He moved through them methodically, killing twenty-eight of them one by one.

  ?While he attempted to strike the last one, Ruek lunged and stabbed Manish in the back with a thick, short blade. Manish didn't even flinch. He reached behind him, grabbed Ruek’s arm, and literally tore it from his shoulder.

  ?Ruek fell back, howling in agony, his eyes wide with a terror he had never known. While Manish finished the final vampire, the Pure-blood gripped his bleeding stump, turned, and fled into the dark safety of the mountains.

  Raksha remained on the ground, weeping as she cradled Aadhi’s hand. Manish approached them, his steps heavy and uneven. Rakhi tried to intervene, but Manish swatted him aside with a light hit that sent the goblin to the graden entrance.

  Manish loomed over Raksha, his fist raised to strike the creature that had deceived his son. But then, He saw Aadhi’s mother’s watch on Raksha’s wrist and his fist unfurled. He saw the way Raksha held his son—not as a predator, but as someone desperately trying to hold onto the only light she had ever known.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  As the first rays of the sun began to crest over the horizon, Manish’s strength finally evaporated. He sank to his knees before his son. The blood loss was too great; the ground beneath him was turning into a crimson pool.

  He reached out one final time, his trembling hand cupping Aadhi’s cheek.

  "Aadhi... I'm sorry," he whispered.

  His hand slid away as he fell forward. The Kartha was gone.

  The scene shifted to the Neyveli Hospital, where the air was heavy with the sterile scent of antiseptic and a crushing silence. Aadhi’s eyes fluttered open, his head wrapped in thick white bandages. Through a blurred haze, he saw two figures standing over him. One was Francisco Pedro; the other was a stern old man with a sacred Urdhva Pundra mark on his forehead.

  "Are you alright?" the old man asked, his voice like weathered parchment.

  Aadhi struggled to focus, the light stinging his eyes. "Yes..."

  "I am Mr. Pedro's teacher, Jayant," the old man explained softly, stepping closer.

  "Uh... who is Pedro?" Aadhi whispered.

  Pedro felt a jolt of shock. They had shared such weight just days ago; how could the boy forget? "I’m your father's friend, Aadhi. Don’t you remember? We met only a few days back."

  Aadhi’s brow furrowed in painful concentration, his pulse spiking on the heart monitor. "My father... he... um..."

  "Don't you remember your father?" Pedro asked, his heart sinking.

  Aadhi looked at them with wide, hollow, and vacant eyes. "I can't remember anything. I don't even know my own name!" He began to sob, panic rising in his chest like a dark tide.

  Pedro reached out to comfort him. "You are Aadhi, the only son of—"

  "Your name is Chandru," Master Jayant interrupted, his voice firm and absolute. "Do not forget it."

  Having anchored the boy with a new identity, the Master turned and walked out of the room. Aadhi—now Chandru—stilled, the new name acting as a steadying weight as he drifted back into a troubled sleep.

  Outside in the corridor, Pedro turned to his mentor in disbelief. "Master Jayant, why did you do that? Chandru is not his name. He is the son of Manish! He needs to know about his father’s legacy."

  Master Jayant looked out the window at the distant, jagged mountains. "It is not about a name, Pedro. Telling him who he is would force him to relive a horrific night. If a past contains no joy—only blood and loss—it is a mercy to let it stay buried. Let him be a new person. Let him live."

  Pedro bowed his head, accepting the heavy wisdom of the man who had once slain a Pure-blood.Deep within the subterranean darkness of the vampire kingdom, the air was thick with triumph. Rakhi and Raksha stood before the throne of King Janaga.

  "You have done what many thought impossible," Janaga declared. He gestured to his Queen, who brought forward a velvet cushion bearing a flute carved from bone, pulsing with a sinister violet aura. "This flute is bound with high-level Dark Magic. It is yours, Rakhi."

  Rakhi knelt, accepting the gift. However, the harmony was broken by a growl. Ruek, his shoulder a raw, bandaged stump where Manish had torn his arm away, stepped forward. "It isn't over! The Kartha’s cub is alive. We must hunt him!"

  Janaga turned his cold gaze toward the wounded Pure-blood. "A mere human child? Why didn't you kill him when you had the chance?"

  "Because I was stopped by this goblin girl!" Ruek hissed.

  Raksha spoke up, her voice steady despite the fear. "I did it to save Ruek. If he had killed the child, the Kartha would have had nothing left to lose. He would have destroyed Ruek entirely. I chose to protect a Pure-blood vampire over killing a human child."

  "That’s actually right," Janaga mused.

  Ruek intervened, "She is lying! The Kartha was weak. I would have killed him even if he charged!"

  Janaga laughed coldly. "Your missing arm tells the true story, Ruek. Nobody listens to the words of a loser."

  As they left the council, Ruek blocked Raksha’s path. "You protected him today, but you won't again. I'll find him and kill him. No matter the cost." Raksha saw the raw horror in his eyes before Rakhi pulled her away to leave. At the Ockslaw Mansion, the last of the belongings were being packed into the Ambassador car. Pedro spoke to Chandru, trying to ease his transition. "She is a wonderful woman. She will take good care of you; she is much like her brother, Master Jayant."

  "Will moving to a new place change anything, Mr. Pedro?" Chandru asked.

  "It will be a new start," Pedro said gently. "Choose your own path and live with joy."

  As they walked through the house one last time, Pedro spotted an old photo of him and Manish with the Section D students. He touched the glass, whispering, "Why, Manish?"

  The maid called Chandru to fetch his last suitcase. When he opened it, his breath caught. Hidden beneath his clothes were a mask, a pair of gloves, and a blood-stained suit, with a pygmy watch resting on top. Beside them lay a letter.

  "I know you suffered a lot. I am unable to face you or console you. There are things which are forbidden; I am one of them. I want you to be stronger—stronger than you are today—to face the hard days coming. — A Well-Wisher."

  Chandru clutched the letter, a new fire igniting in his amnesiac mind. He ran back to Pedro. "Shall I come with you?"

  "Why?" Pedro asked, startled.

  "I want to become a strong man."

  "It’s not your job, Chandru. It’s life-risky," Pedro argued.

  "Please, Mr. Pedro!"

  Before Pedro could refuse again, Master Jayant placed a firm hand on his shoulder, giving a silent nod of approval. As the Ambassador pulled away, leaving the gates of Neyveli behind, a lone figure stood in the shadows of the forest line.

  Raksha, still wearing the face of Nalini, watched the car disappear into the distance. She clutched her chest, her eyes filled with a mixture of grief and a secret, forbidden hope. She had lost the boy she knew as Aadhi, but she had saved the life of the boy now called Chandru.

  Outskirts of Mumbat,1996:

  On the quiet outskirts of the city, the air was thick with the scent of rain and distant spices. An old man dressed in simple saffron robes carried a tray with two steaming cups. He approached a small table and poured the dark liquid into the vessels.

  The man sitting opposite him took a slow sip, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "... it’s good, Drona."

  ?"When was the last time you drank tea?" Drona chuckled.

  ?"My teens," the man replied. "But back then, we didn't add milk."

  ?Drona leaned back, his expression turning grave. "Tell me—is the boy an Elemental?"

  ?"No," the man replied. "The boy named Chandru is different. He is thirteen, and he draws energy from celestial sources. His power is exorbitant—frightening. He is an upgrade."

  ?The man stood up, his presence commanding and tall.

  ?"The BLINK era ends in twenty-six years," the man said, his voice resonant. "However, Bhavirana will return sooner. According to my calculations, his lifespan will end in roughly ten years; he will push his limits, desperate to find the Earth's soul before he fades. People like Chandru are more than just students—they are an upgrade. We must find more like him and train them. They are the only ones who can face the upcoming danger."

  He began to walk away, his silhouette blending into the twilight.

  Drona watched him go, nodding slowly. "Alright, Bhishma."