The humid monsoon season descended upon Pune, washing the land clean, just as the "Week of Silence" had cleansed the political air. Adav, now fifteen, stood on the vast balcony of his Pune mansion, the ledgers of Bharat Corporation spread before him. The numbers were staggering. Profits had soared despite the brief shutdown, testament to the pent-up demand and the sheer indispensability of Adav Steel and his nascent chemical ventures. His shipping fleet, small but strategically placed, was already carving out new trade routes.
He had built an empire. Not one based on land or military might, but on capital, industry, and a chilling foresight. He had altered history, a quiet, almost invisible shift, but one with monumental repercussions. The British were weakened, their hubris dented, their economic vulnerabilities exposed. The Indian nationalist movement, under Bose's increasingly confident leadership, was learning to wield a new kind of power.
A servant approached, deferentially announcing the arrival of a special telegraph from Calcutta. Adav took the missive. He scanned the terse, coded message. It spoke of diplomatic tensions reaching a fever pitch in Europe, of ultimatums and troop mobilizations. His eyes, devoid of surprise, returned to the vast landscape of his burgeoning empire.
As he watched, a single, flashing notification appeared in his Mind's Eye, overlaid on the distant hills:
[OPPORTUNITY: WORLD WAR I]
The great game, as he had always known it would, had finally begun. And Adav, the architect of a new Bharat, stood poised to be its biggest winner. The world was about to plunge into chaos, and he was ready to reshape it.