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7:13 AM – Rudran's Home, India
The pressure cooker hissed—a sharp, steaming warning that cut through the morning stillness. On the wall-mounted TV, a news anchor's voice fought for dominance, crisp and relentless. This was the new morning ritual—no incense, no chants. Just crisis.
Rudran sat at the breakfast table, unmoving. Steam curled lazily from his untouched aloo paratha. Across the room, his mother stirred something on the stove, stealing glances at the screen like it might rewrite their fate.
"Breaking: A minor crack in Gujarat was neutralized after three military personnel awakened mid-combat. All hostiles eliminated. No civilian casualties."
"The W.A.R. Protocol has been officially signed. Each nation is now responsible for managing its Awakened population. India begins drafting its own registry system today."
"New proposal: Civilians showing signs of resonance may soon be required to report for evaluation. Testing centers are being discussed."
"Nineteen new cracks confirmed this morning alone—across Asia, Europe, and the Americas."
The world wasn't collapsing.
It was… evolving. Rearranging itself like a shattered bone forcing itself to heal. Wrong, twisted—but functional.
"Beta," his mother asked gently, the weariness in her voice softened by habit. "Are you sure school is closed again today?"
Rudran nodded. "Yeah. Safety concerns. They said until further notice."
The door burst open. His older brother, Ishan, emerged mid-scroll, brushing his teeth with one hand and laughing through the foam. "Yo! Did you see that Punjab clip? Dude shot lightning from his eyes. No CGI. Straight up mutant-level stuff."
Rudran managed a thin smile. "Yeah. Wild."
But his mind wasn't here.
It still echoed with something far older, far darker:
"Open paths. Close space. Burn gods… if they bleed."
The plate in front of him might as well have been made of stone. He pushed back his chair. "I'm heading to the terrace. Gonna check on the guys."
His mother didn't argue. She just nodded—like she'd already learned that silence had become the safest answer in a world full of noise.
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7:45 AM – Arin's Terrace
The rooftop hadn't changed.
Same cracked concrete. Same tilted water tank. Same plastic chairs, half-swallowed by dust and sun.
It wasn't much.
But it was theirs.
Zayn sat near the wall, cross-legged, juggling two phones, tangled in a mess of wires and whispered military feeds.
Arin leaned against the ledge, still in his sweat-soaked jersey from morning practice, chewing on a masala-dusted boiled egg. His eyes were hollow. Not tired—emptied.
Hiro stood apart, silent, arms crossed. His gaze tracked a lone surveillance drone as it glided overhead, quiet as a ghost, watching.
No one spoke—not at first.
Then Arin broke the silence. Voice low. Uncertain. Like he didn't trust the words. "So… this is it? Our world now?"
Zayn snorted without humor. "Monsters. Powers. Government databases. Totally normal teenage stuff."
"You think we'll awaken?" Arin asked, softer now. "That guy from the tuition center did. They took him."
Something stirred inside Rudran. Coiled. Listening.
He didn't answer.
Zayn looked up, eyes shadowed with something beyond exhaustion. "They're making lists. Drafting candidates. Military schools. Task forces. We're next. If one of us—"
"They won't take us," Hiro interrupted quietly.
The first words he'd said all morning.
"Not unless we let them."
The silence wasn't empty.
It carried the weight of what was coming next.
They were just four boys from the same street.
Boys who once chased ice cream trucks and played cricket with broken bats and plastic bottles.
But things were different now.
The world had cracked open.
And Rudran… was changing.
He still laughed with them, sat beside them, nodded at the same jokes.
But inside, something was shifting—quietly, relentlessly.
He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it hidden.
Not from the world.
Not from them.
Zayn threw a pebble off the ledge. Hiro watched the sky. Arin picked at his shoes.
Rudran just stared at his hands.
Felt the stillness under his skin.
> "I'm still me," he told himself.
"Aren't I?"