Prologue 7

In the surreal dream world, Jay continued his desperate flight from the relentless shadows. They chased him through a nightmarish landscape, their very presence intensifying the feeling of impending doom. His legs trembled, threatening to give way beneath him. He couldn't outrun them forever. Desperation forced him to search for refuge.

In the distance, Jay spotted a small convenience store, its neon sign flickering erratically. With a final burst of energy, he dashed towards it. His entrance was far from graceful; trembling and disoriented, he stumbled inside, panting and clutching at his chest.

The store was dimly lit, a disorganized maze of shelves filled with forgotten products. Jay's heart raced as he scanned his surroundings. His search for sanctuary was urgent, but more importantly, he sought a means of defending himself against the pursuing shadows.Then he saw it, an old baseball bat propped up in the corner. Jay seized it, feeling its weight and reassuring presence. Armed and determined, he hid behind a stack of dusty shelves, his breathing steady as he prepared for the impending clash.

Time passed slowly, and the shadows seemed to have disappeared. Jay emerged from his hiding spot, sighing with relief. But just as he took a step, a menacing shadow loomed before him. Jay jumped back, heart pounding, desperately trying to run again. But this shadow was different; it was fast, much faster than the others.

The ensuing clash was intense. Jay, still weak and trembling, faced the formidable adversary with a mixture of courage and wits. The battle was brutal, with the shadow nearly overpowering him multiple times. But through a combination of clever maneuvers and a stroke of luck, Jay managed to land a final, decisive blow, causing the shadow to dissipate.

"Good, that's for the last time," he whispered to himself as he examined his fallen foe. "That makes it my second kill." However, there was no time to revel in victory. A sudden, powerful shock coursed through Jay's body, and to his horror, an army of shadows materialized around him, pursuing him once more.

The dream had taken a darker turn, with Jay's situation growing more perilous by the moment. Jay's heart pounded as he dodged and darted, trying to avoid the pursuing shadows. Should he fight them, he wondered? The dream ended eventually as Jay was overwhelmed and ultimately succumbed to the darkness.

Jay suddenly awoke to a moonlit room, the darkness interrupted by faint moonlight seeping through the window. As he blinked into wakefulness, he saw a shadowlike figure, he could mildly see him though, "Aiedrow?", Jay asked as he emerged from the shadows and turned on the lights, his smile revealing that he was already aware of Jay's recurring dream.

"Same dream again?"

Jay nodded, his voice laden with a sense of helplessness. "Yeah, it just doesn't stop."

Aiedrow, ever the enigmatic thinker, couldn't resist sharing his own perspective. "You know, Jay, I've been pondering something. What if there are infinite universes out there? What if your recurring dream is actually glimpses of how you died in the last universe, and your soul traveled here?"

Jay furrowed his brow, his mind grappling with the concept. It was a lot to digest, especially considering his current state of unease. Ameya, who had been standing with Aiedrow, joined the conversation. She had known about Jay's dreams and was here to offer her own unique perspective. Ameya teased Aiedrow for feeding Jay stories he himself might not fully believe in. "Honestly, you're such a dumb dream theorist."

Aiedrow, ever the charismatic one, couldn't resist a playful rejoinder. "Who says I don't believe in it? I might be more open-minded than you think."

Ameya rolled her eyes. "You don't believe in anything. Not even yourself."

Aiedrow leaned closer, flashing a teasing smile. "Well, I think I believe in you."

Jay couldn't help but intervene with a mock complaint. "EWW, guys, get lost. I can't deal with your flirting. I'd rather die a thousand times in my dreams than see you two together."

Aiedrow and Ameya shared a laugh, their playful banter lightening Jay's mood.

After a brief silence, Ameya mentioned Vishnu's impending arrival on the top floor. "You're not going to join?" she asked Aiedrow. Aiedrow, with a thoughtful expression, considered his options. "Do you really need me there? You know how it can get with Vishnu. Besides, I have to gather the others if we're going to execute your plan."

Ameya acknowledged his help. "True, you did say you believe in me.", she smiled.

"But you make me work too hard for it. It's not easy to get them all here. I might have to get involved personally." Aiedrow laughed and revealed his departure plans. "I'm leaving tonight."

Ameya didn't look concerned but she did know how this guy was, more than anyone else. "With you, it's always like that. Just don't overdo it, alright?" Aiedrow reassured her. "I will not. Besides, I never do my best. never did, Not even against you."

Ameya playfully countered, "Sure, and you call me a sore loser."

Aiedrow responded with a hint of flirtatiousness. "That would imply that you've beaten me."They shared another laugh before Ameya took a deep breath and began walking away. Jay, who had been covertly observing their interaction, couldn't help but smile. "These two are really weird, but in a good way," he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and whispered, "Well, Jay, this time around, let's do it."

As Aiedrow and Ameya walked together for a while, they came across a staircase that diverged in two directions. One led to the basement, and the other led to the rooftop. Aiedrow waved at Ameya and playfully encouraged her to go to the top floor. "You go, Kween. SLAAYY!"

Ameya acknowledged his playful remark with a smile as she continued towards the top floor, preparing herself for the challenging conversation with Vishnu.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beneath the enchanting moonlit sky, Siddharth lay alone near the river's edge. Stars adorned the celestial canvas above, their distant glimmers a profound testament to the vastness of the night. He gazed at these cosmic sentinels, deep in contemplation, grappling with questions that pierced his very soul.

"Am I destined for failure?" Siddharth's voice was a mere whisper, lost in the night's silence. Cool breezes danced upon his skin, carrying a weight of uncertainty that burdened his chest. Self-doubt gnawed at him, questioning if he could ever become the person he longed to be. The words of Isha's brother reverberated mercilessly in his mind: "You have a limit, you can't go past that."

Siddharth's thoughts turned to Krishna. He too had heard how Krishna swiftly took down Rudra, one move is all it took, While going up against Shoaib he had to do his best even then it took long enough. He couldn't help but compare their approaches to combat. Krishna's astonishing speed in defeating Rudra, a fierce adversary, lingered vividly in Siddharth's memory. Rudra had posed a formidable challenge. The fight he had, required every ounce of Siddharth's strength and determination. But Krishna's victory was swift, a blend of awe and bewilderment. Just what was he? This Krishna? Did he really mean it when he said he would surpass everyone the day he joined the school?

"Can it be so effortless?" Siddharth wondered aloud, frustration tingeing his thoughts. "Are they truly blessed by the gods, destined for excellence in all they attempt, while the rest of us must toil endlessly and still fall short?" It was an injustice that festered within, resentment growing.

A white bird glided through the night sky, its wings shimmering in the moon's silver embrace. Siddharth watched, briefly captivated by the elegant creature's flight. He closed his eyes, palms upturned, a fleeting wish passing through his thoughts: "If only I could reach the sky." Yet the dream faded, slipping through his grasp.

His gaze returned to the river, and a wistful smile tugged at his lips. "If not the sky, then the river," he mused, a sense of resignation in his voice. The river, steadfast and unceasing, offered solace amidst his turbulent thoughts. But then, a lone flower in the river's midst drew his attention.

Was it a lily, or perhaps a lotus-like bloom? It seemed to radiate a soft, otherworldly glow, or maybe it was a trick of the night's drowsy spell. Siddharth was captivated by the enigmatic blossom, intrigue, and wonder stirring his heart. This lone flower held a secret, an invitation to something beyond the ordinary.

With a sudden start, Siddharth rose to his feet, a surge of adrenaline awakening his senses. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the present. It was time to head home, to face his own limitations. He turned from the river, smiling at the night, renewed determination gleaming in his eyes.

"Perhaps," Siddharth whispered to the night, "I could endeavor to emulate these so-called geniuses, to explore the limits of my potential." The night sky cradled its secrets, hidden in plain sight. Siddharth ventured into the night, thoughts teeming with possibility, the weight of doubt lightened by newfound ambition.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Krishna sat alone in a dimly lit room, the battle with Rudra still echoing in his mind. The flickering candle on a dusty bookshelf cast elongated shadows that danced around him. A tattered battle-worn poster of a legendary fighter adorned one of the room's peeling walls, a stark contrast to the young man's current contemplative state.

The question weighed heavy upon him, pressing deeper into his thoughts: How had Rudra managed to single-handedly dismantle so many of their allies? His gaze fixated on a small, cracked mirror hanging on the back of the door. It was as though he was searching for answers within his own reflection.

The room held an air of quiet tension, broken only by the soft hum of an old ceiling fan, whose blades spun lazily. Krishna leaned forward, his hands absentmindedly clutching the edges of his faded blue jacket, the fabric wrinkled from the day's rigorous battle.

He couldn't simply disregard the thought of potential, though. He whispered with a sense of reverence, "I still remember your teachings," and the memory carried him back to a person held in the highest regard in his aunt's village. The elders there lovingly called him 'Gopu,' a nickname filled with warmth, while the other villagers knew him as 'Chhote Sahab.'

Krishna's connection with this village legend had formed when he was just eleven, a time of unfamiliarity and unwelcome isolation in his aunt's village. It was beneath the cool, soothing shade of a majestic blueberry tree that he had often sought refuge. His childhood companions were the rustling leaves and the sun's gentle rays filtering through the lush foliage.On one of those quiet afternoons, the voice from above had startled him. "Oi, get away from there," it had scolded, prompting Krishna to look around in bewilderment. "I'm up here, retard!" The voice emerged from a boy perched in the branches of the very tree under which Krishna sought shelter.

"Move aside, I need to get down," the boy had demanded, his youthful arrogance apparent in his tone. Concerned for the boy's safety, Krishna had warned him against leaping from the tree. "I've heard that people break their legs doing that," he cautioned, a trace of anxiety in his voice.

The older boy had chuckled heartily, his demeanor exuding a sense of self-assured nonchalance. "That's true, but not for me." And with that, he had rolled down from the tree with a grace and elegance that had mesmerized Krishna.

"How did you do that?" Krishna had asked, his curiosity piqued. The boy, who seemed like the epitome of coolness to young Krishna, had leaned back with an air of supreme confidence and embarked on an explanation. "I rolled to absorb the shock, distributing the pain and impact evenly across my body. It's not that difficult, really."

As their eyes met, Krishna had seen an unmistakable spark of adventure. But the elder boy, as if reading Krishna's thoughts, had shared a knowing glance. That memorable encounter beneath the blueberry tree marked the inception of their brotherhood.

Krishna's mind returned to the present, still pondering that remarkable day. A faint smile graced his lips as he shifted on the creaking chair. His body continued to tremble intermittently, an aftermath of the intense battle. "I guess I still can't completely absorb the shock," he admitted, his gaze now fixed on the tattered poster of the legendary fighter. "Rudra is truly a force to be reckoned with. What was that—Battle Rage, Fury, or Aura?" The labels sounded absurd when applied to reality, yet what he'd experienced was otherworldly.

He'd managed to subdue Rudra, but for how long could he have continued? The seed of doubt had taken root and was growing steadily. "I was just lucky. weak! I still have a long journey ahead," he reflected, the uncertainty seeping through. Sitting cross-legged, he brought his hands together in prayer, his eyes slowly closing. Was he seeking clarity, meditating on his past, or perhaps praying for guidance in the face of future challenges? The room remained silent, an unassuming witness to Krishna's inner struggles.