CHAPTER 40, THE FIRST STEP
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The hospital room no longer felt like a place of recovery.
It felt like the beginning of something else.
Something quiet…
Something dangerous.
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The steady rhythm of the heart monitor continued—
Beep… Beep… Beep…
But now, instead of sounding like a reminder of survival…
It sounded like a countdown.
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Krrish stood beside the bed.
Barefoot.
Unstable.
His body trembled slightly under its own weight, muscles still weak, untrained, unfamiliar.
Every breath felt heavier than it should.
Every movement demanded effort.
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But his eyes—
They were calm.
Too calm.
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"Adaptation…" he murmured softly.
"Step one."
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He slowly lifted his hand again, observing it carefully.
Thin.
Unrefined.
No strength.
No scars of battle.
No history of victory.
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"This body…"
"…has never fought."
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A faint smile appeared.
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"Good."
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He lowered his hand and took a step forward.
His leg almost gave out—
But he caught himself against the wall.
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Pain surged through his body instantly.
Sharp.
Immediate.
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But he didn't react.
Didn't even flinch.
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"Pain confirms function…"
"Function can be improved."
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He pushed himself upright again.
Slower this time.
Controlled.
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No wasted movement.
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Because from this moment on—
Every action mattered.
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Information Before Action
Krrish turned toward the window again, staring at the city beyond the glass.
People moved without purpose.
Cars rushed without thought.
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"They live reactively…"
"Not strategically."
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His gaze sharpened slightly.
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"That's why they're easy to control."
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Before he could continue—
The door opened.
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A man stepped in.
White coat.
Measured steps.
Eyes that observed more than they revealed.
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A doctor.
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Krrish shifted his gaze instantly—
Analyzing.
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Height: average.
Posture: disciplined.
Expression: controlled, but curious.
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"Authority figure…" Krrish concluded internally.
"But not dominant."
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The doctor stopped beside the bed, flipping through a file.
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"So… you're awake."
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Krrish didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
He studied the man for another second.
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"Dr. Mehra," he said calmly, reading the name from the badge.
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The doctor looked up, slightly surprised.
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"Yes…"
"You're recovering faster than expected."
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Krrish tilted his head slightly.
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"Expected by whom?"
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The doctor paused.
That wasn't the kind of response he was used to.
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"…By medical standards," he replied.
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Krrish gave a faint nod.
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"Standards are averages."
"I am not interested in averages."
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The room fell quiet for a moment.
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Dr. Mehra narrowed his eyes slightly.
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"You've changed," he said.
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Krrish didn't deny it.
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"People do… when they understand their situation."
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"And what do you understand?" the doctor asked.
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Krrish's lips curved slightly.
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"That weakness is not a problem…"
"…if no one expects strength."
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Silence.
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That answer lingered in the air longer than it should have.
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Dr. Mehra closed the file slowly.
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"You should rest."
"Your body isn't ready for stress."
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Krrish's gaze didn't waver.
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"My body doesn't decide my actions."
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The doctor exhaled lightly.
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"That mindset will kill you."
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A pause.
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Krrish leaned slightly forward.
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"No…"
"It will decide who dies."
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For the first time—
The doctor said nothing.
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Because something about that sentence…
Didn't feel like arrogance.
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It felt like certainty.
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After a moment, he straightened up.
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"You're being discharged today."
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That was it.
No warning.
No hesitation.
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Just a statement.
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"But tell me…"
Dr. Mehra hesitated slightly.
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"Are you ready to go back?"
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Back.
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Not home.
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Back.
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To the battlefield.
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Krrish's eyes shifted toward the window again.
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"I never left."
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The doctor studied him for a few seconds longer…
Then turned and walked out.
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The door closed.
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And once again—
Silence filled the room.
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But this silence…
Was no longer empty.
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It was calculated.
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The Absence of Attachment
A few minutes later, a nurse entered.
She carried discharge papers and avoided direct eye contact at first.
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"You're being released," she said softly.
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Krrish nodded once.
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Then she hesitated.
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"…No one has come for you."
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A normal person would pause.
React.
Feel something.
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Krrish didn't.
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"I didn't expect anyone."
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The nurse looked up, surprised.
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"…You're going alone?"
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Krrish picked up the phone lying beside the bed.
Old.
Simple.
But functional.
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"I came alone."
"I'll leave the same way."
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There was no bitterness in his voice.
No sadness.
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Just truth.
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And that made it more unsettling.
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The First Signal
Outside the hospital—
The air felt different.
Open.
Unrestricted.
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Krrish stood still for a moment, adjusting to the environment.
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Noise.
Movement.
Chaos.
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"This world is loud…"
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He unlocked the phone.
The screen flickered slightly before stabilizing.
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Notifications flooded in.
Missed calls.
Messages.
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But one name stood out—
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Shane.
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Multiple messages.
Aggressive.
Demanding.
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Krrish opened them slowly.
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"Where are you?"
"Stop hiding like a coward."
"If you don't come back… don't blame me for what happens next."
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A pause.
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Then—
Krrish smiled.
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Not with amusement.
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With recognition.
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"Control through fear…"
"Pressure through uncertainty…"
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He locked the phone again.
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"Predictable."
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He stepped forward, his movement still slightly unsteady—
But no longer hesitant.
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"Which means…"
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"…controllable."
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The First Move
A taxi stopped in front of him.
The driver glanced at him briefly.
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"Where to?"
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Krrish opened the door and sat inside.
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For a moment—
He said nothing.
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Then—
He spoke.
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"Thomson House."
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The driver nodded and started the engine.
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As the car moved—
Krrish leaned back slightly, closing his eyes.
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Not to rest.
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To think.
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Step one: Re-enter the environment.
Step two: Observe without reacting.
Step three: Identify fractures.
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Then—
Exploit them.
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His fingers tightened slightly.
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"Jain's pride…"
"Liya's guilt…"
"Shane's overconfidence…"
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A faint pause.
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"Their weakness is already there."
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His eyes opened slowly.
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"I just have to…"
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"…make it visible."
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Return of the Player
The city passed by outside the window.
Unaware.
Uninvolved.
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No one noticed him.
No one recognized him.
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And that—
Was his greatest advantage.
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"Obscurity…" he whispered.
"…is the perfect cover."
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The car slowed down as it approached a large gate.
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Tall.
Elegant.
Cold.
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Thomson House.
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Krrish looked at it silently.
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"This isn't a home…"
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"…it's a system."
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A system built on control.
On image.
On perception.
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And systems—
Could be broken.
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Not from the outside.
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But from within.
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The car stopped.
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Krrish stepped out slowly.
His legs still weak.
His body still recovering.
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But his presence—
Was something else entirely.
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The gate stood before him.
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And beyond it—
His enemies.
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His battlefield.
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His opportunity.
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A faint smile appeared on his lips.
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"Let's begin."
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Because this wasn't a return.
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This was an infiltration.
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And this time—
Krrish wouldn't fight like a warrior.
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He would move like a shadow.
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Unseen.
Unnoticed.
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Until it was too late. 🔥