Watching closely, Lieutenant General Bakshi realized something strange—Number 0 wasn't looking at him.
His gaze was fixed… somewhere behind him.
For a brief moment, Bakshi turned his head to follow that line of sight—
And that's when it hit him.
He had forgotten.
Behind him, Professor Tiwari and Mahesh were still struggling forward, barely holding themselves up, exhausted, injured… yet pushing on.
Bakshi froze.
A wave of realization crashed over him.
I was so busy running… so caught up thinking about this Number 0… that I completely forgot about them… their stamina… their condition…
His jaw tightened.
No matter how urgent the situation is… how could I forget my own people…?
A flicker of anger rose within him—directed at himself.
He steadied his breath, then looked back at Number 0… and this time, his thoughts shifted.
So he wasn't just rushing blindly…
He calculated everything… every movement… mine… his… everyone's…
A pause.
Black eyes… and the way he speaks… there's a hint of Gujarati mixed with Hindi…
Before he could stop himself—
"Are you from Gujarat?"
The question slipped out.
The moment he said it, Bakshi felt a twinge of embarrassment.
What the hell am I doing? I should focus on the mission… not his identity.
But he couldn't help it.
He wanted to know.
When no answer came, he spoke again—
"I'm right… aren't I?"
"Break's over. Move."
The reply came instantly.
Cold.
Flat.
Completely ignoring the question.
Bakshi exhaled quietly.
There was no point pushing further.
Without another word, they followed him again—moving carefully through the bushes, staying low, staying hidden.
Then—
Bakshi heard something.
Voices… ahead.
He slowly pushed the branches aside and looked—
And froze.
In front of him, just beyond the cover of bushes, a small truck stood parked.
Around it—
Soldiers.
Injured, bandaged… but alive.
"Lieutenant!"
A young soldier jumped down from the truck, his voice filled with relief and excitement.
Bakshi's face lit up instantly.
He turned toward Mahesh and the professor—
"Mahesh… these are our men!"
Then, stepping forward, he called out—
"Hey! How did you all get here?"
The young soldier rushed toward him, pointing behind Bakshi—
"That man… the one in the Number 0 suit… he saved us."
Bakshi glanced back.
The commando stood there, silent, holding his weapon… expressionless as ever.
"He rescued us… told us to wait here… and then went back into those ruins," the soldier continued. "And now he's back—with you, Lieutenant."
Bakshi and the soldier both looked at him.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then Number 0 spoke—
"From here, we go our separate ways."
His voice was calm, precise.
"If you continue toward the southwest… you'll find your rescue team waiting."
Bakshi understood.
There was nothing more to ask.
A small, genuine smile appeared on his face.
"Thank you."
"No need," Number 0 replied instantly. "Someone made a request. I fulfilled it."
Bakshi let out a quiet breath of relief.
A faint smile returned.
"I knew it… you're a highly trained mercenary."
Then, stepping forward, he extended his hand.
"Even if this was just a request… you saved my life… and my entire team's."
His voice carried weight.
"I'll have to insist you accept my thanks. It's the least I can do."
A pause.
"I don't know why you came here, sir… but the truth remains—you saved all of us."
Number 0 looked at his extended hand.
Then at Bakshi's face.
For a brief moment—
It seemed like he might accept it.
But just as his hand began to rise—
BOOM.
A mortar shell struck the ruins behind them.
The explosion ripped through the air with terrifying force.
The ground shook.
A deafening blast wave slammed into everyone—throwing dust, debris, and shock through the battlefield.
Bakshi instinctively shielded himself, his mind racing even in the chaos—
Mortar rounds…
I can't hear anything… the blast is too loud…
He turned frantically, scanning his team.
The professor… the unit… thank God, they're alive…
But there was no time.
What now…? Where do we go…? And where is Number 0…? Is he alright?
Before he could gather himself—
Gunfire.
Sharp. Rapid.
Close.
Bakshi's eyes snapped open.
Who the hell is firing now?
They had just survived a mortar blast… no one should've recovered this fast.
Then—
Two men in the distance dropped instantly.
Dead.
Bakshi followed the direction of the shots—
And what he saw—
Left him stunned.
Through the thick smoke—
There he was.
Number 0.
Standing firm.
Weapon steady.
Firing back at the enemy with absolute precision.
Two targets.
Two kills.
Clean.
Controlled.
Unshaken.
Bakshi's voice escaped under his breath—
"Even after that blast… he recovered instantly… physically and mentally… and is already counterattacking…"
His eyes narrowed in disbelief.
What kind of training teaches someone to stay this calm… in a situation like this?
Who the hell is this guy…?
Bakshi quickly began loading his own weapon—
But then—
Something caught his eye.
He looked again.
This time… carefully.
The scarf covering Number 0's face—
Was gone.
Blown away by the explosion.
Through the smoke, his face was barely visible… blurred… unclear.
Bakshi squinted, trying to focus.
I'll finally see his face…
A thought formed in his mind—
He must be some experienced officer… forty-five… maybe fifty… only experience can create this level of composure…
And then—
The smoke shifted.
The face became clear.
For a split second—
Bakshi's mind went blank.
A curse slipped out of his lips—
"What the—"
He stopped himself.
Blinking once.
Twice.
He looked again.
And this time—
There was no doubt.
"F***… he's… he's just a kid…"
His voice dropped into disbelief.
"Twenty… maybe twenty-one…"
Bakshi stood frozen.
The man fighting like a machine… the one who had wiped out an entire terrorist stronghold… the one who had saved them all—
Was not some veteran.
Not some hardened commander.
But a young man.
Sharp features.
Strong build.
A face that belonged in a college classroom… not a battlefield.
And yet—
Here he was.
Moving like death itself.
Destroying enemies without hesitation.
Bakshi rubbed his eyes once… twice…
But the truth didn't change.
It was still him.
A young boy.
Fighting like a war.
And before he could stop himself—
The question escaped his lips.
"But… how?"