The eagle's thoughts were a bolt of lightning to Anmol's heart. Simhavyagrah has fallen! The words echoed in his mind, a message of pure disaster. For a second, the world seemed to stop. Disbelief was replaced by a cold, flooding dread that stole the air from his lungs.
There was no time for questions, no time for panic. His mentor, his friend, was in danger. He was already moving.
Right there in his bedroom, Anmol call animal stamp. The golden light of the Animal Stamp erupted from his chest, not with the thrill of his first transformation, but with a grim, urgent purpose. The cool, solid weight of the gold and green armor formed around him. The tiger helmet clicked into place, and the world sharpened, seen through its glowing blue eyes. He was no longer Anmol, the college student who was just moments ago feeling a strange unease. He was Animal Boy, and he had a desperate mission.
He threw his window open wide. The great Tawny Eagle was still on the ledge, its eyes wild with urgency. "Follow me! Fly as I do!" its thoughts urged him.
Anmol leaped out into the chilly winter night. He didn't fall. He called upon the power of the eagle, not just for its sight, but for its command of the sky. He felt an incredible lightness as the power took hold, allowing him to launch himself from the roof in a powerful, soaring leap that was more flight than jump.
He was flying. Alongside the great eagle, he became a golden streak in the moonlit sky, a desperate shadow racing against time. The wind howled past his helmet. Below him, the sleeping city of Nagpur was a grid of quiet, orange lights, completely unaware of the drama unfolding in the heavens above. The eagle was a frantic beacon, guiding him back to the jungle, back to the source of his power, back to the friend he feared he was about to lose.
They arrived at the clearing in what felt like both an eternity and a heartbeat. The scene of devastation stopped Anmol cold. The secret entrance, once hidden by rock and vines, was a gaping, violent hole. The sacred place had been broken open, violated.
He rushed inside, his heart pounding with a terrible rhythm. The inner chamber was a disaster. The soft, golden light that usually filled the room was weak and flickering, casting long, dying shadows. The air of ancient peace was gone, replaced by the smell of blood and scorched stone.
In the center of the room, he saw him. Simhavyagrah. The great lion was lying on the sandy floor, his magnificent golden fur matted with dark blood. A deep, terrible wound was torn in his side. His breathing was a shallow, painful rasp.
"Simhavyagrah!" Anmol cried out, his voice a mix of a boy's fear and a tiger's growl. He rushed to his mentor's side, falling to his knees.
The great lion slowly opened his eyes. The ancient, golden light within them was fading, like the last embers of a mighty fire. He looked at Anmol, and a faint flicker of warmth entered his thoughts.
"You came, young one..." Simhavyagrah's voice was weak, strained.
"I'm here," Anmol said, his own voice breaking. "What happened? I'll help you. We can fix this."
"It is too late for me..." the lion's thought was heavy with finality. "The dinoman... he is stronger than I knew. My time was already fading... my pride made me careless..."
Anmol felt tears welling up in his eyes, hot against his own skin inside the cold helmet.
"Listen to me, Anmol," Simhavyagrah insisted, a surge of his last strength focusing his mind. "There is no time. You must know what you are facing. His power... it comes from a Dino Stamp... a corrupted twin to yours. It does not bond with a host. It consumes. It is not a bridge to the spirits of the wild... it is a cage for the rage of an extinct world."
The dying lion's words painted a horrifying picture. "DinoMan is not just a man in a suit. The man and the stamp... they are becoming one single, monstrous thing. All that is left of the man is his hate... the stamp gives it power."
Simhavyagrah coughed, a deep, painful sound, and more blood trickled from the wound. "Do not fight his rage with your own, Anmol. That was my mistake. My anger made me blind. You must fight with the heart of the wild... its harmony... its unity... That is how you will win. Become the storm... as I taught you... It is your only way..."
The lion's golden eyes looked deep into Anmol's. "You were not a mistake, Anmol. You are... the future of the wild. Make me... proud..."
With that final thought, the light in Simhavyagrah's eyes faded completely. His great head rested on the sand, and the last, shallow breath left his body. The flickering golden light of the chamber died with him, plunging the sacred space into a deep, profound darkness, lit only by the cold, glowing blue eyes of Anmol's helmet.
His mentor was gone.
For a long time, Anmol just knelt there in the dark, a silent warrior grieving his fallen king. The silence was absolute, heavier than any sound. He had lost his teacher, his guide, his friend. He was truly alone.
But the grief inside him slowly began to burn, the sadness turning into a cold, hard anger. He would not let his mentor's death be in vain.
With a heavy heart, he stood up. He would not leave Simhavyagrah in this broken, violated place. He called upon the power of the Indian bison. His muscles swelled with a deep, earthy strength. He went to the ruined entrance and began to move the massive, shattered boulders. One by one, he placed them back, sealing the opening. He worked through the night, his grief fueling his immense strength. When he was done, the cave was a tomb, a sealed monument of stone, safe and quiet once more.
As he placed the last rock, he became aware of silent figures in the moonlit clearing. Deer, wild boar, monkeys, even a shy leopard... the animals of the jungle had gathered, a silent honor guard standing vigil for their fallen protector.
Anmol stood before the sealed tomb, the silent animals his only witnesses. His grief had now burned away into a single, sharp point of cold, focused rage. His mission was no longer just to protect. It was to avenge.
He closed his eyes, his armor glowing faintly in the dark. He reached out with his mind, sending a single, powerful command to the entire animal network of the region. It was not a request. It was a demand.
"Where is he? The dino-man. The red-eyed killer. The one who did this. FIND HIM!"
The response was a tidal wave of information, a thousand whispers flooding his mind at once. He sorted through the chaos of fear and sightings from bats, owls, and jackals, following the trail of terror DinoMan left in his wake as he moved back towards the city.
Then, he got it. A clear location. A flock of bats, hiding under a bridge, were screaming in his mind about a "red-eyed stone-man" lurking in the dark, empty parklands near Ambazari Lake.
Anmol's eyes snapped open, the glowing blue of his helmet burning with a cold fire. He knew where his enemy was.
He turned to the silent animals of the jungle and gave a solemn nod. Then, without a sound, he leaped into the air, a golden blur of anger and purpose, heading back to Nagpur.
The hunt was over. The war was about to begin.
[To be continued…]
Support me: vanshbosssrahate@oksbi (UPI ID)
Author: Vansh Rahate
Editor: Vansh Rahate
Story by: Vansh Rahate
Under: Alaukika Studios