The monsoon clouds hung low over Mumbai, mirroring the heavy, suffocating atmosphere that had settled over Rudra's life. Ever since the grueling battle with the armored titan, the boy who once worried about school fines and missed lectures had been replaced by a ghost in a charcoal-grey hoodie. To the public, he was a mystery—a symbol of hope splashed across the front pages of local newspapers and trending on every social media feed under the tag #HoodedHero. But to Rudra, the transition felt less like an ascension and more like a slow, exhausting drowning.
He quickly realized that power was not a gift; it was a debt that demanded payment in the currency of a normal life. The simple pleasures he once took for granted—sleeping until noon, finishing a meal without checking his phone for emergency alerts, or simply walking down the street without scanning the rooftops—were gone.
Strangely, his debut had triggered a bizarre shift in the world's ecology. While monster reports all allover the country were actually beginning to decline, as if the beasts were retreating from the newfound resistance, but the activity in Mumbai had spiked aggressively. It was as if the city had become a magnet for malice. Attacks were now a daily occurrence, sometimes reaching a frantic peak of three separate incidents in a single twenty-four-hour cycle.
The physical and mental toll was immense. Rudra's reflection in the morning mirror showed dark circles beneath his eyes that no amount of caffeine could erase. He found himself perpetually exhausted, his head lolling onto his desk during history lectures. Teachers grew frustrated, and his grades began to slip, but how could he explain that he had spent the previous night wrestling a multi-ton beast in a shipyard while they were tucked safely in their beds?
One humid afternoon, the weight of the city felt particularly heavy. Rudra, Raj, and Priya gathered outside their favorite haunt, a small, vibrant cafe tucked away in a side alley, only to find the shutters pulled tight and a heavy padlock on the door.
"It's been three days! Three days without their signature cutting chai!" Raj complained, rattling the gate with a dramatic sigh. "Why is this place still closed? The old man is usually here by sunrise."
Priya stepped closer, her expression unusually somber. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and spoke in a hushed tone. "I heard... I heard the owner's daughter was murdered."
The air seemed to leave Rudra's lungs. He felt a deep, cold pang of sympathy for the elderly owner. The man had always treated them like family, often sliding an extra samosa onto their plate when he thought they looked hungry.
"The pretty girl at the register?" Raj's voice dropped, the humor vanishing instantly. "She was so nice to everyone. Who could have done something so senseless?"
"The neighborhood is talking," Priya whispered, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "They say it was that scary waiter, Arjun. I heard he's involved with some kind of local mafia gang—the kind that handles the 'dirty work' for the city's underworld."
"I knew it!" Raj hissed, his eyes widening. "Did you see that face of his? The scars, the way he never blinked? He looked like a killer from the moment he stepped into the shop."
Rudra shook his head, a memory flickering in his mind. He recalled a moment a week prior when he'd seen Arjun carefully helping the owner's daughter carry a heavy crate of supplies, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his intimidating frame. "I don't know, Raj. I don't think he's a murderer. He was actually quite nice to her when the boss wasn't looking."
"Nice? Rudra, the guy looked at us like he was calculating the most efficient way to break our ribs if we didn't tip," Raj countered.
Rudra opened his mouth to defend the man further, but his wrist suddenly throbbed. The purple stone was humming—a low, rhythmic vibration that only he could feel. He checked his watch; it was nearly time for his self-appointed "shift."
"It's late. I have to go," Rudra said, pulling his bag over his shoulder.
"Where are you heading now? We were supposed to hang out," Priya asked, her brow furrowing with concern.
"He's doing... uh... extra study sessions!" Raj jumped in, lying with a practiced smoothness. "You know, to catch up for the board exams. He's practically a scholar now."
Rudra gave a quick, thankful nod to Raj and disappeared into the crowd. In reality, he wasn't heading to a library. He was heading for the heights.
Later that evening, the "Hooded Hero" stood atop a forty-story glass-paned skyscraper. From this vantage point, the chaotic streets of Mumbai looked like veins of liquid gold. He had flipped his hoodie to the charcoal side and pulled his mask tight, the cool night air biting at the small patches of exposed skin.
"Just once," he muttered to the wind, "I'd like a night where the city just stays quiet."
His wish was ignored. Below him, three streets over, a convoy of police vehicles was moving through an intersection. In the center was a reinforced transport bus, its windows covered in heavy iron mesh. Inside that bus was Arjun. The waiter sat perfectly still, his face an unreadable mask of stoicism even as he was being hauled toward a high-security prison.
Suddenly, the ground erupted.
A new monster—a creature covered in thick, overlapping scales that resembled biological armor plating—slammed into the side of the transport bus. The vehicle skidded across the asphalt, flipping onto its side with a screech of rending metal.
Rudra didn't think. He leaped.
The wind whistled past his ears as he descended, landing with a bone-jarring thud between the scaly beast and the wreckage.
"You can't just cause this much destruction!" Rudra roared, throwing a punch backed by the full weight of his momentum.
The strike connected with a sound like a hammer hitting a granite slab. To Rudra's horror, his hand vibrated with the shock of the impact, but the monster didn't budge. Its skin was incredibly dense, designed to absorb and dissipate kinetic energy.
"Your skin is way too thick!" Rudra grunted, narrowly dodging a swipe from the creature's jagged claws. He lunged again, but every blow felt like he was punching a mountain.
In the chaos, the rear door of the bus groaned and fell off its hinges. Arjun stumbled out into the street, his white waiter's shirt stained with oil and blood. He ignored the police officers and the hero, his eyes scanning the debris with a frightening intensity. He spotted a ring of keys that had fallen from a stunned guard and moved with a silent, predatory grace to retrieve them. Click. The handcuffs fell to the pavement.
The monster, frustrated by Rudra's speed, let out a gutteral hiss. It reached into the side of a nearby building, tearing away a massive chunk of ornamental stone. With a heave of its powerful shoulders, it hurled the projectile toward Rudra.
Rudra rolled to the left, the rock whistling past him. But as he turned, his heart stopped. A small child, no older than six, was standing frozen in the middle of the street, paralyzed by terror. The massive boulder was on a direct trajectory for the boy.
"OH NO!" Rudra screamed. He was mid-roll, his feet slipping on the slick asphalt. He knew he wouldn't make it in time.
Suddenly, a blur of motion intercepted the rock. Arjun had leaped into the path of the projectile. With a sharp, guttural shout, Arjun struck the center of the boulder with the palm of his hand. The stone didn't just stop; it shattered into a thousand harmless fragments, raining down around the child like dust.
Arjun didn't waste a second. He looked down at the boy. "Are you okay, kid?"
The child gave a small, shaky nod and scrambled away to safety. Rudra stood up, stunned by the display of raw, disciplined power. "Thanks for that," Rudra called out, his voice filled with genuine respect.
Arjun didn't acknowledge the gratitude. Instead, he snatched a discarded iron rebar rod from the rubble and turned toward the monster. With a flick of his wrist that was almost too fast to follow, he hurled the rod. It spear-tipped through the air, whistling past Rudra's ear, and drove itself deep into a small, unarmored patch of skin at the base of the monster's throat.
The beast let out a wet gurgle, its eyes rolling back as it collapsed instantly.
"Every creature has a vital point," Arjun said, his voice as cold as the iron he had just thrown. He looked at Rudra with those haunting, scarred eyes. "Attack there, and they go down easily. Stop wasting your energy on the armor."
Before Rudra could ask a single question Arjun turned and disappeared into the shadows of a narrow alleyway.
By the time Rudra finished helping the police and explaining that the "prisoner" had escaped during the struggle, it was well past midnight. He met up with Raj, who had been waiting a few blocks away, and the two walked back to their apartment building in a weary silence.
After working whole day Rudra and Raj return home. Rudra was going to open the but when he try to put the keys on he notice something, "why door is already unlocked?".
"Cloud it be a thief is inside?!"