The tests were complete. In a flurry of light and cascading data streams, Dr. Rhea Singhania and Dr. Ishani Kapoor had guided the man through a series of complex assessments. It didn't take long. His mind was as sharp and formidable as it had been 150 years ago, his skills undulled by time. Physically and mentally, he remained in peak condition.
Afterward, he was escorted back to the quiet sanctuary of the living room—a haven amid the sterile chaos of the lab. He sank into the plush sofa, letting the silence wash over him, a welcome reprieve from the constant hum of machinery.
He had just closed his eyes when a sharp knock at the door cut through the calm.
"Enter," he commanded, his voice low and firm.
The man who stepped in was in his early thirties, tall and lean, with subtle muscularity beneath a perfectly tailored suit. His face was a mask of composure, honed by a life of authority. Piercing dark eyes betrayed nothing, while a faint scar near his left temple hinted at a past of trials—a solitary imperfection on an otherwise flawless visage. He exuded the quiet authority of someone born to lead.
As he approached, he regarded the figure on the sofa not merely as a man, but as a living legend, a relic from a bygone era whose power and influence had shaped the world he now inherited. He bowed his head and offered a measured greeting.
"I am Veer, sixth-generation leader of the Black Dragon Society, current head of the family. I welcome you back… sir."
The man on the sofa rose, his presence immediately filling the room. "No need for formality. Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
"Tell me, how is the family?"the man said, the possessive pronoun deliberate, a soft challenge.
Veer's smile was a polished blade. "It thrives. The foundation you laid has made us the leading force in the world. Your legacy is… well-managed."
"That's good to hear." A genuine smile broke across the man's face, fleeting but warm.
Silence hung briefly between them, comfortable yet heavy with unspoken history. The man sighed, the weight of the last few hours pressing down. "Let's go to the family then."
"Not yet," he said, his smile fading. "There is something dormant within me… a power I cannot control. I might… accidentally hurt someone." He looked away, the burden of the confession clear in his eyes. "For now, make preparations. I want to… take in this future at my own pace."
Veer's composure faltered for a fraction of a moment. His gaze met the man's, then quickly dropped to the floor. "As you wish… sir," he said quietly. He understood the subtext perfectly. "I will ensure your stay is comfortable. Someone will escort you to your temporary quarters shortly."
"Good," the man replied, a subtle spark of satisfaction returning to his voice.
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Veer settled into the plush backseat of his armored car, the holographic dashboard humming to life. He didn't glance at his assistant; his gaze was fixed on a distant point, somewhere between thought and calculation.
"Contact the First Knight," he said, his voice low and commanding.
"Yes, sir," the assistant replied, fingers dancing across the console with practiced precision.
A moment later, a voice filled the car's speakers, familiar yet deferential. "My lord. I was just thinking of you."
"Where are you?" Veer asked, urgency sharpening every word.
"Southern Capital."
"Good. Get to the Dragon's Lair. Escort him to the Saffron Spire," Veer commanded, leaving no room for argument.
There was a pause, heavy with disbelief. "Him? He's… he's awake?"
"Yes," Veer confirmed, voice tight, final. "Do not leave his side till someone else take over. i will arrange the guards by tomorrow."
The line went dead. Silence filled the car, broken only by the soft hum of the engines. Even for the assistant, one of the Twelve Knights and privy to the family's most guarded secrets, the news hit hard. A man who had slept for a century and a half had returned. The rumors he had heard were mere whispers; now the legend was real. A cold dread settled in his chest as he considered the upheaval this would bring to the carefully maintained order of their era.
"Let's get to the family estate."
"Yes, sir," Samarth said, snapping the car into motion.
The estate appeared on the horizon, a majestic fortress rising from the rolling grounds—a fusion of ancient architectural grandeur and gleaming modern glass. Domed towers and intricate carvings concealed advanced systems, the heartbeat of a family that balanced tradition and technology.
Inside, Veer moved through the halls with the quiet grace of a man who commanded every inch of the space. Servants bowed their heads as he passed, silent acknowledgments of authority, while the very air seemed to hum with the precision of a household run like a military operation.
He reached the heavy doors of his private study. Without slowing, he gestured to a maid arranging flowers nearby.
"Send the butler in," he ordered, voice low and final.
The door swung shut behind him, sealing Veer inside his study. The room was a mirror of its owner: sleek, minimalist furniture, walls lined with carefully curated books, and a single, large holographic display humming with a live stream of global economic data. Veer settled into the leather chair behind his desk and waited.
It wasn't long before the door opened again. A man in a perfectly tailored uniform entered—Javed, the family's trusted butler. Calm, poised, and sharp-eyed, Javed had witnessed generations of family secrets. He bowed respectfully, awaiting orders.
"Javed," Veer began, his voice slicing through the stillness of the study. "Have you read The Dragon's Compass?"
For a moment, Javed's impeccable composure faltered. He recovered quickly. "Yes, sir."
"Can your son take care of him?" Veer asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
Javed's calm veneer cracked. He stammered, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "Sir… you mean… the founder? He's… but…"
Veer's gaze sharpened, impatience radiating from him. "Can he, or not?"
Straightening, Javed's voice took on a quiet certainty born of pride. "He can, sir. His nature is playful and curious, which allows him to approach this with a lightness others cannot. Yet he is also serious about his duties. He will take care of him."
"Good. Call him," Veer commanded, leaving no room for argument.
The study fell silent once more as Javed bowed and exited. He instructed a passing maid to summon his son, and as she hurried away, he remained still, mind reeling. Pride and apprehension warred within him. His son had been entrusted with a monumental task—a role demanding both playful curiosity and lethal seriousness. In this game of giants, his piece suddenly felt more vital than any other