Shivam slammed his heel down onto Veeraj's boot, twisted free, and shot a jab-cross combo at his head. Veeraj blocked the first, caught the second, and countered with a palm strike that sent Shivam reeling into another worker hauling a long, sealed container. The man cursed, stumbled, and the container thudded against the ground with a muffled, unnatural thunk.
Shouts rippled across the workers.
"Hey, watch it!" "Keep that sealed!" "Move, move, get it out of here!"
No one stepped in to stop the fight. They just circled the chaos, keeping their distance, eyes flicking nervously between Veeraj and Shivam.
Veeraj came in low, aiming to tackle. Shivam sprawled backward, catching himself with one hand and snapping his legs up in a scissor kick, clipping Veeraj's ear and forcing him sideways. Shivam scrambled back to his feet, chest heaving.
"You're stubborn," Veeraj said, breath coming quicker now.
Shivam didn't answer. He ducked another swing, stepped inside the arc, and slammed his shoulder into Veeraj's ribs. It drove them both into a stack of crates, the wood creaking and shifting around them.
Veeraj shoved him off with raw power, and Shivam hit the ground hard, palms scraping against gravel.
That was when the hum of engines cut through the fight, deep, heavy, and close.
The engines grew louder, filling the night with a low, vibrating hum that seemed to crawl into Shivam's bones. Dust kicked up at the edge of the clearing as two black SUVs rolled in, their headlights slicing long, blinding beams through the fog.
For a brief second, no one moved. The workers froze mid-step. Veeraj kept his stance, chest heaving, eyes still fixed on Shivam.
The lead SUV slowed to a stop, engine still idling. The back door opened.
Out stepped Kairav Mehta, the same crisp suit and composed demeanor Shivam had seen on TV that morning, except now there were no cameras, no podium, and no polite expressions for the public.
Under the floodlights, his suit looked almost too perfect for this place, deep charcoal, tailored to precision, not a speck of dust on it despite the dirt and chaos around him. A faint SynerTech lapel pin caught the light, a small gleam against the shadowed fabric.
Kairav walked forward at an unhurried pace, hands clasped behind his back, his shoes crunching softly over the gravel. The noise of the operation seemed to dull around him, forklifts paused, workers stopped shouting orders, conversations cut off mid-word.
He stopped a few paces from Veeraj and Shivam.
"Leave the boy," Kairav said, voice calm but carrying a weight that felt absolute. "He's, our specimen. We've waited too long to risk him over your ego."
The word hit Shivam like a slap, specimen. His mind snagged on it even as Veeraj's shoulders tightened, his jaw working. For a second, Shivam thought Veeraj might ignore the order, but after a tense beat, the bigger man stepped back.
Kairav's eyes shifted to Shivam. It wasn't a casual glance, it was deliberate, calculating, like he was taking in every detail: the scuffed knuckles, the shallow cut along his jaw, the way his chest rose and fell.
"I know what you saw," Kairav said, voice low enough that only Shivam could hear over the hum of the engines. "I know where you went."
Shivam forced himself not to look away. "Then you know I'm not going to forget it."
A faint smile ghosted across Kairav's face. "Of course not. People rarely forget stepping into another world."
Shivam's breath hitched before he could stop it. He had never said anything about that night outside their group.
Kairav went on, tone almost conversational now. "And I know more than that. I know your friends… where they live, where they go, who they talk to. And your family." His gaze sharpened just slightly. "They're all within reach."
The implication wasn't shouted, but it didn't need to be.
Shivam's fists clenched. "If you're trying to scare me,"
"I'm not trying," Kairav interrupted smoothly. "Fear is a tool, not a goal. I prefer preparation." He took a half-step closer, enough that Shivam could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the stillness in his expression. "When the time comes, you'll understand why you survived the Ridge. Why you were allowed to survive."
"Allowed?" Shivam echoed, the word tasting like rust.
Kairav didn't answer. He simply looked past him, toward the workers who had resumed moving equipment, and gave a small nod. Somewhere behind Shivam, an order was shouted and the distant beep of a reversing forklift started up again.
The conversation was over, at least for Kairav.
He turned and walked back to the SUV, the same unhurried pace, like the fight and the chaos had been nothing more than a line item in his schedule. The door shut, the headlights flared brighter, and both vehicles began to roll back toward the road.
Shivam stood there, his pulse hammering in his ears, watching the tail lights fade into the night.
He didn't know if he'd won or lost whatever just happened. All he knew was that his ribs ached from Veeraj's hits, his palms stung from gravel burns.
Shivam didn't move right away. The clearing had gone back to its rhythm, forklifts beeping, crates thudding into truck beds, voices calling out in clipped urgency, but now it felt like a stage he'd been shoved off of mid-scene.
Veeraj stood a few steps away, still breathing hard, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't satisfaction. It was the look of someone who'd just been told to put away a weapon before finishing the job.
Shivam adjusted his stance, refusing to give him the satisfaction of stepping back first. His ribs ached where Veeraj's punches had landed, and a dull burn spread along his forearm from where he'd blocked a hit too late. But he stayed upright.
A worker jogged past them with a dolly stacked high with sealed black cases. One of the top ones shifted, the lid catching slightly in the rush, and in that fraction of a second, Shivam saw it.
A crystal. Rough-edged, faceted, about the size of his fist. And unlike the pale blue Noctirum fragments he remembered from before… this one pulsed with a deep, molten orange light, as if it had been pulled straight from the heart of a fire.
The dolly jolted forward again, the lid snapping shut, the glow disappearing like it had never been there.
Shivam's breath caught, his mind scrambling. He'd never seen that color before. The air around it had looked… heavier, almost distorted. Like the light was bending toward it.
He forced himself to look away before anyone caught his stare, but the image was already burned into the back of his mind.
"Go home, kid," Veeraj said finally, voice low, almost casual, but his eyes said I'll remember this.
Shivam didn't answer. He bent down, picked up his helmet from the dirt, and brushed it off. The plastic was scuffed along one side, a reminder of where Veeraj had shoved him into the gravel.
He backed toward the tree line slowly, keeping his eyes on Veeraj until the shadows swallowed the clearing. Once he was sure he was out of sight, he made for his bike, every step jarring his bruises.
The engine growled to life under his hands, the familiar vibration grounding him just enough to push through the pain. He took the first turn slow, headlights off until the Ridge's lights were a faint glow behind him.
Only when the road opened up ahead, dark, empty, lined with silent trees, did he let the bike pick up speed. The wind pressed against his jacket, pulling at the bruises beneath, but the pain didn't matter.
All he could see was that crystal. That impossible orange light.
And Kairav's voice, calm and certain: We've waited too long to risk him over your ego.
By the time Shivam crossed into the city limits, the plan had already started forming in his head. He didn't know what SynerTech wanted, or why he was part of it, but if they thought they could keep something like that hidden, they were wrong.
He wasn't just going to remember it. He was going to find it.