The decision took three seconds.
The cost would take everything.
Bharat stared at the system notification floating in his peripheral vision. Red text. Urgent. The kind of red that meant this is your last chance.
DIVINE COVENANT — LIFESPAN TRANSFER
Accept terms? Y/N
WARNING: This action is irreversible
Time remaining to decide: 00:00:08
His mother's monitor beeped.
Irregular. Weak.
Fading.
Dr. Mehta stood beside the bed, hands clasped. That particular stillness doctors wore when they'd done everything they could and now it was up to God.
Or whatever passed for God in a world with divine contracts.
"Bharat," Mira said softly. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, I do."
He pressed YES.
The world lurched.
Not sideways.
Down.
Like gravity had tripled, like the floor was falling away beneath him. Bharat's knees buckled. He caught himself on the edge of the hospital bed—hand gripping cold metal, knuckles white.
"Bharat!"
Mira's voice. Distant. Like she was shouting from the bottom of a well.
His vision grayed.
Not black.
Gray.
The color of ash. Of things that used to be alive.
System notification:
COVENANT EXECUTED
Lifespan transferred: 10 days
Target lifespan extended: 30 days
Calculating host vitality loss...
Cold.
Not the cold of winter.
The cold of absence.
Like someone had opened a door inside his chest and let all the warmth drain out. Bharat's breath came in shallow gasps—each one harder than the last, like his lungs had forgotten how to work.
"Get a doctor!" Mira shouted.
"I am a doctor," Dr. Mehta said.
But he was already moving. Stethoscope. Pulse check. The practiced efficiency of someone who'd seen people collapse before.
"His heart rate's dropping. Forty-two. Forty."
"Is he—"
"He's alive. But barely."
Bharat's countdown flickered.
28 days, 6 hours.
Minus 10 days.
18 days, 6 hours.
The numbers burned into his vision like a brand. Each digit etched in fire.
Still dying.
Just faster now.
But his mother's monitor stabilized.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Regular. Strong. The sound of a heart that had decided to keep fighting.
Dr. Mehta looked at the screen. Then at Bharat. Then back at the screen.
"I don't... understand."
"What?"
"Her vitals. They're improving. Kidney function normalizing. Blood pressure stabilizing."
Pause.
"It's like someone just... reset her."
Mira looked at Bharat.
Understood.
"He did."
"What?"
"Nothing. Medical miracle. You said it yourself."
Dr. Mehta frowned. The kind of frown doctors wore when the science didn't add up but the patient was alive so they didn't ask too many questions.
"I'll run more tests. But... she's stable."
"Thank you."
Bharat tried to stand.
Couldn't.
Legs wouldn't cooperate.
Arms shaking. Vision still gray at the edges.
"Easy," Mira said. "You just gave away ten days of your life."
"I'm fine."
"You're a terrible liar."
"Practice makes perfect."
System notification:
VITALITY ASSESSMENT COMPLETE
Host lifespan reduced: 10 days
Secondary effects detected:
Physical weakness (temporary): 48 hoursCold sensitivity (permanent): +15%Healing rate decreased: -20%Divine authority efficiency: -8%
WARNING: Lifespan reserve depleted to CRITICAL levels
Current reserve: 18 days, 6 hours
Recommended action: RESTORE LIFESPAN IMMEDIATELY
New notification. Different color.
Gold.
The system's way of saying pay attention to this.
LIFESPAN RESTORATION OPTIONS AVAILABLE
Method 1: Divine Offering (requires 100 Faith Points)
Current Faith Points: 12STATUS: UNAVAILABLE
Method 2: Covenant Reversal (requires original contract holder's consent)
Original holder: DECEASED/UNAVAILABLESTATUS: IMPOSSIBLE
Method 3: Oath-Gold Absorption
Mechanism: Absorb sanctified wealth offeringsConversion rate: 1kg Oath-Gold = 7 days lifespanRequirement: Gold must be willingly offered to a deityCurrent Oath-Gold in range: 0kgSTATUS: AVAILABLE (requires acquisition)
Bharat stared.
Read it again.
"Oath-Gold."
"What?" Mira asked.
"The system. It's telling me how to get my time back."
"How?"
"Oath-Gold. Religious offerings. The kind people give to temples."
Pause.
"The kind Rajan's been hoarding."
Mira's expression shifted.
Understanding.
"You want to rob a temple."
"Not rob. Reclaim."
"That's the same thing."
"Legally? Yes. Morally?"
Bharat looked at his mother. Breathing steady. Alive.
"I don't care."
His phone buzzed.
Peacock.
Of course it was Peacock.
[PEACOCK]: Saw your mother's vitals stabilize.
[PEACOCK]: What did you do?
[BHARAT]: Made a deal.
[PEACOCK]: With who?
[BHARAT]: The system.
[PEACOCK]: Idiot.
[PEACOCK]: How much did it cost?
[BHARAT]: 10 days.
[PEACOCK]: ...
[PEACOCK]: You have 18 left.
[BHARAT]: I know.
[PEACOCK]: That's not enough time to find the Unmade City.
[BHARAT]: I know that too.
[PEACOCK]: So what's your plan?
Bharat looked at the notification.
Oath-Gold.
1kg = 7 days.
He needed at least 20 days to have a realistic shot at survival.
20 days = ~3kg of Oath-Gold.
Where would he find three kilograms of consecrated gold?
[BHARAT]: Rajan's vault. You said he has Oath-Gold.
[PEACOCK]: Had. Past tense.
[BHARAT]: What?
[PEACOCK]: He moved it. Two days ago. Right after you exposed him.
[PEACOCK]: Probably expected you'd come for it.
[BHARAT]: Where did he move it to?
[PEACOCK]: That's the interesting part.
[PEACOCK]: He didn't move it to another temple.
[PEACOCK]: He moved it to a bank.
[BHARAT]: A bank?
[PEACOCK]: Private vault. International holdings. The kind with armed guards and biometric locks.
[PEACOCK]: The kind you can't just walk into.
[BHARAT]: How much gold?
[PEACOCK]: According to my source? 47 kilograms.
Bharat's breath caught.
47 kilograms.
= 329 days of lifespan.
Almost a full year.
More than enough to find the Unmade City. Break the curse. Save himself.
More than enough to save Mira too.
If he could get it.
[BHARAT]: Which bank?
[PEACOCK]: Imperial Secure Holdings. Downtown Mumbai.
[PEACOCK]: Vault level 3. Subsection 12.
[PEACOCK]: And Bharat?
[BHARAT]: What?
[PEACOCK]: It's impossible.
[BHARAT]: Why?
[PEACOCK]: Because Rajan's not stupid. He hired private security. Ex-military. The vault requires three separate authorizations to open.
[PEACOCK]: And even if you got in...
[PEACOCK]: The gold is consecrated. Taking it without divine permission will trigger a curse.
[PEACOCK]: The kind that kills you instantly.
Bharat closed his eyes.
Of course there was a curse.
There was always a curse.
"What are you thinking?" Mira asked.
"I'm thinking we need a team."
"We have a team. You, me, Ayesha."
"Ayesha's still recovering. And you're not exactly combat-ready."
"Neither are you."
"I know."
Pause.
"So what do we do?"
Bharat looked at his countdown. 18 days, 6 hours. The numbers ticking down like a bomb he couldn't defuse.
"We do what desperate people always do."
"Which is?"
"We get creative."
Dr. Mehta returned.
Clipboard. Professional smile.
"Your mother's stable. We're moving her to a recovery room."
"How long until she wakes up?"
"Hard to say. Could be hours. Could be days. But her brain activity is strong. She'll wake."
Pause.
"You should rest, Bharat. You look terrible."
Mira snorted.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to him today."
"I'm fine."
"You're collapsing."
"I'm functional."
"Barely."
System notification:
HOST VITALITY: 23%
SEVERE WEAKNESS DETECTED
Recommendation: Rest for 48 hours
WARNING: Continued activity may result in system shutdown
"System shutdown?" Mira read over his shoulder. "What does that mean?"
"It means if I push too hard, my body will force me to shut down."
"Like a coma?"
"Like death."
Pause.
"Temporary death."
"That's not reassuring."
Bharat stood.
Slowly.
Legs shaking but functional.
Vision still gray but clearing.
"I need to see Ayesha."
"She's at the safe house. Resting."
"Good. We'll need her."
"For what?"
"The heist."
Mira grabbed his arm.
"You're serious. You're actually going to rob a bank."
"Not a bank. A vault."
"That's worse."
"Probably."
"And if you get caught?"
"Then I die in prison instead of from a curse. At least it's a change of scenery."
She didn't laugh.
Just looked at him.
That look.
The one that said I'm scared for you and I believe in you and please don't die all at once.
"We'll figure it out," Bharat said.
"Will we?"
"We always do."
"That's a lie."
"It's optimism."
"It's delusion."
Pause.
"I'll take it."
They left the hospital.
Afternoon sun. Harsh. Unforgiving.
Bharat pulled his jacket tighter. The cold still there—deep in his bones, like winter had taken up permanent residence in his marrow.
"You're shivering," Mira said.
"Side effect. The system said it's permanent."
"You're going to be cold forever?"
"Just more sensitive to it."
"That's horrible."
"Could be worse."
"How?"
"Could be dead."
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Text message:
"I know what you're planning."
Bharat stopped.
"What is it?"
"Someone knows."
He showed her the screen.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Another message:
"The vault. The Oath-Gold. The heist you're planning."
"I can help."
"Meet me. Midnight. The old docks. Warehouse 7."
"Come alone."
"Or don't come at all."
"It's a trap," Mira said.
"Obviously."
"So you're not going."
"I'm going."
"Bharat—"
"Whoever this is, they know about the gold. Which means they have information I need."
"Or they're working for Rajan."
"Then I'll find that out too."
Pause.
"You're not coming with me."
"Like hell I'm not."
"Mira—"
"The message said come alone. It didn't say anything about me showing up separately and watching from a distance."
Bharat almost smiled.
Almost.
"You're getting good at this."
"I had a good teacher."
"Who?"
"You. Unfortunately."
They walked to the car.
Bharat's legs still weak. Each step an effort.
But he walked.
Because stopping meant dying.
And he wasn't ready for that yet.
System notification:
NEW QUEST UNLOCKED
"THE OATH-GOLD HEIST"
Objective: Acquire minimum 3kg Oath-Gold from Rajan's vault
Reward: 21 days lifespan
Failure penalty: Curse activation (instant death)
Time limit: 7 days
Current progress: 0%
Seven days.
To plan a heist.
Infiltrate a military-grade vault.
Steal consecrated gold without triggering a divine curse.
Oh, and not die from weakness in the meantime.
"Piece of cake," Bharat muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just... planning."
"Planning what?"
"How to rob the impossible."
Mira looked at him.
Really looked.
Saw the gray tinge to his skin. The slight tremor in his hands. The way he moved like every step cost him.
"You gave up too much."
"I gave up what I had to."
"Your mother's alive. But you're dying faster."
"I know."
"Was it worth it?"
Bharat thought about his mother.
Breathing. Stable. Alive.
Thought about the countdown.
18 days, 6 hours.
Still ticking.
Still a death sentence.
But his mother would live.
For thirty more days.
Maybe long enough to say goodbye.
Maybe long enough for him to fix this.
"Yes," he said.
"It was worth it."
They drove.
Mumbai traffic. Honking. Chaos.
Normal.
Safe.
A lie they both pretended to believe.
Bharat's phone buzzed.
Peacock.
[PEACOCK]: Got intel on your mysterious texter.
[BHARAT]: Who?
[PEACOCK]: Don't know yet. Number's scrambled. VPN. Professional grade.
[PEACOCK]: But I traced the signal origin.
[PEACOCK]: It came from inside the bank.
[BHARAT]: Inside?
[PEACOCK]: Someone who works there. Or has access.
[PEACOCK]: Which means either...
[PEACOCK]: 1. It's a trap set by Rajan.
[PEACOCK]: 2. Someone inside wants to help you.
[PEACOCK]: 3. Someone inside wants the gold for themselves and needs your skills.
[BHARAT]: Great. Three terrible options.
[PEACOCK]: Welcome to your life.
Midnight.
Seven hours away.
Seven hours to prepare for a meeting that could save him.
Or kill him.
Bharat leaned back.
Closed his eyes.
Felt the cold seeping deeper.
Felt the countdown ticking.
Felt the weight of choices he couldn't take back.
His mother was alive.
That was what mattered.
Even if it cost him everything.
Even if it meant he'd die trying to steal enough gold to buy back the time he'd just given away.
The question wasn't whether he'd survive.
Was whether he'd survive long enough to matter.