Eklavya:
A face loomed impossibly close. My brain froze. My heart skipped three beats.
He didn't just stare at me—he seemed to peer straight into my existence.
The man before me… Pradhanacharya.
One hand moved slowly through his beard, deliberate, patient… as if he had all the time in the world to examine what I truly was.
The air grew heavy.
Not tense. Heavy.
Like gravity itself bent around him.
He didn't blink.
He didn't move.
He just stared.
Seconds passed.
Or minutes.
I couldn't tell.
Each tick of time stretched… distorted.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
The aura around him wasn't just powerful—it was suffocating. Cold. Ancient.
It felt like standing before something that had survived wars, massacres, and the collapse of entire civilizations.
For a terrifying moment, I believed—
If someone held his gaze too long, something inside would simply… crack.
Not their body. Their mind.
And then—
He spoke.
"What a handsome youth."
…
…
EEEEEEEEH?!
WHAT?!
I had been bracing for:
"You stand at the edge of destiny."
"Blood will stain your path."
"The Rah has chosen you."
But no.
"Handsome youth."
My brain short-circuited.
Amit's voice cut through the tension.
"Pradhanacharya, we don't have time for leisure talks."
The temperature dropped.
The faint amusement in Pradhanacharya's eyes vanished.
And what replaced it—
Was darker.
Absolute.
The kind of seriousness that carries the weight of decisions that cannot be undone.
Shadows deepened. His presence felt restrained—like something immense was being held back.
He cleared his throat.
"Get up, my boy."
Calm. Too calm.
"You do not have the luxury of rest. There is much you must do."
I reacted before I thought. I sat up immediately.
"For starters," he said, "you will continue your education here from tomorrow."
Education? Here?
"And alongside it," he added, gaze sharpening, "you will begin your physical and mental training."
Physical training… fine.
Mental training? It sounded like torture disguised as improvement.
Wait.
Lectures in the morning… preparing for a battlefield at night?
Double life unlocked?
Reality slapped me.
"Wait… I'm already admitted to another college."
Silence.
Pradhanacharya didn't blink.
"We have already transferred you."
…
My brain froze.
"You… what?"
"How is that possible?!"
He folded his hands.
"We are not merely a college. Most B.Ed. institutions… even some MBBS colleges… function under our umbrella."
The air thickened.
"If we choose to transfer a student—"
His eyes locked onto mine.
"—we do."
No pride. No explanation. Just truth.
My previous college…
My admission…
My plans…
All rewritten without consent.
Like moving a chess piece.
And I was that piece.
I looked at Rudra.
Calm. Unbothered.
None of this was normal.
One moment, worried about exams.
The next—
My life redirected.
Body and mind scheduled for far beyond textbooks.
Pradhanacharya stepped closer.
Not physically threatening.
Just a reminder—there was no turning back.
His eyes unreadable. Not anger. Not kindness.
Vast. Already accepting what was coming.
"From tomorrow," he said, "you will train—because survival will soon be non-negotiable."
The words didn't echo.
They didn't need to.
They settled like a verdict.
The air still.
Too still.
As if the world itself waited.
And for the first time on Rah—
I understood.
This wasn't glory.
Not about being special.
It was preparation for something unseen.
Something that moves without warning.
Something that does not hesitate.
Does not negotiate.
Does not leave survivors.
And somehow…
I had already been chosen.
We exited the room the same way we entered.
Yes—Rudra carried me again.
At this point, I wasn't even surprised.
Curiosity spilled over.
"By the way… you said you'd answer me."
Rudra nodded.
Amit gave a small nod.
"Ask."
"What was that thing in the alleyway? Why are they killing people?"
"Zerakhs," Rudra said calmly. "They kill because they believe it is justice."
"Justice?" I frowned.
"They see the world as rotten. Corrupt. Irredeemable," he said quietly.
"People who lie, cheat, exploit, harm… or simply live selfishly… don't deserve reform. Death is the only solution for those deemed 'bad.'"
A pause.
"To them, elimination is purification."
The corridor stretched.
"And once a Zerakh marks someone guilty," Rudra added softly, "there is no appeal. No mercy. No second chance."
I exclaimed, "Ohhh, how cruel! And… can I use that—pure emotion powers? Like… could I fly? Should I, like… throw my hand up dramatically?"
Rudra's calm voice cut through.
"No, you can't fly. But you do have powers."
"Then… everyone has it?" I asked, curiosity bubbling.
He leaned closer, voice low and serious.
"Yes, everyone has it. But it's locked inside you. To use it, you must train your mind and soul—to manifest it. The kind of emotion you bring forward decides your path. Selfishness, anger, ambition… twist you into a Zerakh. Courage, compassion, selfless resolve… awaken an Aetheris."
I frowned.
"So… if everyone has this power, why don't they all end up as Zerakhs—or Aetheris?"
Rudra's face unreadable.
"Yes. Everyone has it. But simply having power isn't enough. The emotion must burn, intense, pure. Only then does it transform you into an Aetheris or Zerakh."
I blinked.
"So… it's the emotion itself that shapes the outcome?"
"Yes," he said firmly.
"The path comes from within first. Your actions, decisions, even thoughts—they feed it."
I swallowed.
"Ooo… okay… and one more thing. How did you pass through that wall in the alleyway? Is that… one of your powers?"
Rudra frowned.
"Which wall?"
"The one in the alley," I said, pointing, frustration creeping in. "You just walked through it."
For a moment, Rudra said nothing. Behind him, Amit, silent until now, looked up.
"The wall?" he repeated quietly.
"Yes," I said. "At the end of the alley."
Neither answered immediately. I didn't notice—any subtle exchange went completely unseen.
Far beyond the college walls, the city moved as always.
Traffic flowed. Voices overlapped. Lives continued.
Then—a man in the crowd froze.
Rigid. His lips twisted into a smile that didn't belong.
Quiet at first. Then louder.
People turned, confused.
His laughter cracked, broken, as he clawed at his own head.
A woman stepped back. Another person moved unnaturally, jerky, like invisible strings pulled them.
A car horn blared. Someone screamed.
And in a shop window's dark reflection—for the briefest moment—
A tall, indistinct figure smiled from the shadows.
Watching. Waiting. Unmoving.
Somewhere in the crowd, that smile lingered—silent, knowing, sharper than anyone around him.