The air inside Jai's pawn shop grew heavy with unspoken tension. The dim light from a single hanging lantern flickered against the old merchant's wrinkled face as he waited for their answer. Kiara's arms were crossed, her jaw clenched in irritation. She had made up her mind the moment she heard the details—this mission was suicide.
Agastya, however, didn't hesitate. He looked at Jai with unwavering determination. "I'll do it," he said.
Kiara turned sharply toward him. "Are you out of your mind?" she snapped. "Do you even understand what you're signing up for? This isn't a simple rescue mission. A noble's slave? Do you have any idea how high the security around those barons is? And let's not even start with the political consequences."
"I understand," Agastya replied calmly. "But I also understand what it means to lose someone."
Kiara scoffed. "You think that's enough? That's exactly why you shouldn't do this. The world doesn't work on emotions, Agastya. We don't make decisions based on sentiment."
Agastya turned to face her directly, his voice steady. "Really? Then what is the rebel force built on, Kiara? What is the entire fight against the Duchy of Earth based on? Logic? Profit?" He took a step closer, his brown eyes boring into hers. "If everyone only looked at the 'greater picture' like you say, no one would fight for what's right. If we only focused on grand revolutions, we'd miss the smaller battles—the ones that actually matter."
Kiara flinched, but her pride wouldn't let her show it. She wanted to argue, but deep down, she knew he was right.
Agastya continued, his voice softer now. "I know you don't like reckless moves. I know this mission is dangerous. But tell me—how can I trust a cause that ignores the suffering of individuals?"
Silence.
Jai watched the exchange in fascination, his old eyes flickering between them. He knew this wasn't just about his daughter anymore.
Kiara sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. Damn it. He was too convincing.
"Fine," she muttered, narrowing her eyes at him. "You win this argument. But don't get any ideas, Agastya. You're still following my lead."
A slow smirk spread across his face. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
Jai let out a small chuckle, nodding approvingly. "You two are quite something," he said. "If you truly pull this off, I'll not only give you these scrolls—I'll teach you how to read them."
Kiara's head snapped toward him. "Wait, you know Sanskrit?"
Jai grinned. "I may be an old refugee, but I am also a scholar. The knowledge of our ancestors isn't so easily erased."
For the first time since entering the shop, Kiara's expression softened. So, the lost techniques aren't completely lost after all.
Agastya extended his hand toward Jai, sealing the deal with a firm shake. "Then it's settled. We'll bring your daughter back."
As they left the pawn shop, Kiara glanced sideways at him. "Just so you know," she said, "if you die because of this, I'm bringing you back to life just to kill you again myself."
Agastya grinned. "Noted."
The slums of Gwalior stretched out before them like a labyrinth of rusted metal, crumbling concrete, and makeshift tents stitched together from scavenged tarps.
The stench of sweat, burning garbage, and despair hung thick in the air, mixing with the scent of sizzling street food from vendors trying to make a living. Children with dirt-streaked faces weaved through the alleys, their laughter a sharp contrast to the bleak surroundings.
Agastya navigated the chaotic maze with practiced ease, his sharp eyes scanning every shadowed corner.
For him, this was familiar—too familiar. He had spent years in places just like this, dodging thugs, bartering for scraps, and learning the unspoken rules of survival. To him, the slums were not a place to fear. They were a place to listen.
Kiara, however, was different. She stuck close to him, her hood pulled low over her face. The bounty on her head made her a walking target.
Drones hovered above, their red sensor lights flickering as they scanned the streets. She resisted the urge to reach for her dagger each time one passed overhead.
Agastya had assured her that the slums were beneath the city's direct jurisdiction—guards rarely patrolled here, and the drones focused more on the wealthier districts. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
Agastya approached a stall where a middle-aged man was frying strips of synthetic meat in a wok. He slid a few credits onto the vendor's counter. "I'm a journalist from the Moon," he said smoothly. "I'm researching the state of human rights under the Duke's rule."
The man eyed him with suspicion, his face weathered by years of hardship. "Journalist, huh? From the Moon?" He let out a dry chuckle. "Never seen one of you rich folks step foot in the gutters before."
Agastya kept his expression neutral. "That's because they only report on the problems from the comfort of their offices. I prefer firsthand information." He gestured toward the slums. "No better place to get the truth than from the people who suffer under the system, right?"
The vendor grunted, his skepticism wavering. He glanced around, making sure no one was listening, then leaned in slightly. "You wanna know about suffering? The Duke's barons bleed this place dry. Taxes so high even breathing feels expensive. Every few months, people go missing—young ones, mostly. They never come back." He stirred the meat with a spatula, his jaw tightening. "Everyone knows where they end up."
Agastya frowned. "Slavery?"
The man gave a bitter nod. "Some get taken to work in the factories, others… well, let's just say the nobles have their own twisted tastes." His eyes darkened. "Word is, Baron recently acquired a new 'slave.' Some girl, barely eighteen."
Agastya glanced at Kiara, who was listening intently. This was the lead they needed.
Sliding another handful of credits onto the counter, he asked, "Where is Baron's estate?"
The vendor hesitated, then sighed. "Eastern district. Walled mansion, guarded like a damn fortress. If you're planning something stupid, forget it. No one gets in without an invitation."
Kiara smirked. "Then I guess we'll just have to get ourselves invited."
As they walked away from the stall, Agastya shot her a look. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
The air in the high-class hotel room was thick with silence. Agastya leaned against the balcony railing, staring out at the neon-lit cityscape of Gwalior as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Below, the streets transformed as darkness crept in—street vendors packed up their stalls, beggars huddled into alleys, and the true predators of the city came out to play. It was the perfect time to strike.
Kiara sat on the edge of the luxurious bed, sharpening her dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. She had been tense since they arrived, and Agastya could tell she didn't like relying on others for shelter.
But their current disguise—as a wealthy man engaged in an extramarital affair with his secret lover—had gotten them into the hotel without any identity scans. The trader they had bribed had done his job well. They had privacy. Or so they thought.
Agastya glanced at Kiara, amused. "You know, for someone who just got us into a five-star hotel, you don't seem very relaxed."
She scoffed, not looking up from her blade. "Relaxation gets you killed."
He smirked. "Paranoia gives you wrinkles."
Kiara rolled her eyes but didn't respond. Secretly, she was impressed with how smoothly Agastya had handled things. It was easy to dismiss him as a reckless idiot, but when it came to deception, he was sharper than he let on. Not only had he arranged a secure hideout, but he had also found a way to ensure they could move through the city without suspicion.
Still, something about Gwalior made her uneasy. The Duke's forces had a strong grip here, and the Baron they were targeting was known for his obsession with tracking down rebels.
She sheathed her dagger and exhaled. "We'll move in an hour," she said, her voice softer than before. "For now, let's get some rest."
Agastya nodded and stretched, walking toward the couch. "Fine..."
And then, the door burst open.
A squad of heavily armed police officers stormed into the room, their energy rifles aimed directly at them. Before Kiara could react, a suppression device was activated—a pulse of energy washed over her, and she felt an instant, crushing weakness spread through her limbs.
She couldn't move.
Her mana was completely locked down. A second later, cold anti-elemental cuffs snapped around her wrists, sealing her powers away entirely. A trap.
Her heart pounded as she turned her head to Agastya—only to find him standing completely still, his expression calm.
The police captain stepped forward, smirking as he holstered his weapon. "Well done, kid," he said, clapping Agastya on the shoulder. "Clever plan. The Duke's gonna be pleased. We've been after this one for a long time. Come with us. You will receive your bounty."
Kiara's blood ran cold.
She turned to Agastya, eyes filled with confusion and betrayal. He… sold me out?