Rahul stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching students effortlessly showcase their powers. Fire danced in the palms of one, while another levitated boulders with a flick of their wrist. These were future legends, destined to fight the Mrityudoots that threatened their world. And yet, amidst this sea of brilliance, Rahul felt like an outsider.

Despite his determination, the weight of his C rank clung to him like a shackle. His enhanced robotic suit, though powerful, only reminded him of his inadequacies. Unlike the others, his power had not blossomed. His emotions, once a wellspring of strength, were now distant memories—sacrificed in the experiment that had failed him.

"Hey, Rahul!" A voice called out, breaking his reverie.

He turned to see his younger brother, Rohan, jogging toward him. Clad in the pristine white-and-gold uniform of the Tactics and Planning Branch, Rohan radiated confidence. The students around him greeted him with smiles and respect—proof of his growing reputation.

"You’re zoning out again," Rohan said, his voice filled with warmth. "You’ve been here for hours. Don’t you have training?"

Rahul shrugged. "Not much to train when your power is… what it is."

Rohan frowned, his usual cheer dimming. "Don’t talk like that. You’re strong, Rahul. You just need to find your way."

"My way?" Rahul chuckled bitterly. "I’ve been trying to find my way for years. All I’ve found is failure."

Rohan placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. "You’re not a failure. You’re a fighter. That’s what makes you different."

Before Rahul could respond, a loud siren blared across the campus. The training grounds fell silent as students turned toward the towering monitors that dotted the academy. A red warning flashed on the screens, accompanied by an announcement:

"Gate activity detected. Class B Mrityudoots emerging near Kolkata. All available Sentinels, prepare for deployment."

The air buzzed with tension. For the students, this was an opportunity to prove their mettle. For Rahul, it was a chance to do something—anything—that might matter.

"Rahul," Rohan said, his voice steady. "Let’s go. We can join the strike teams."

Rahul hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the creatures again, but the determination in Rohan’s eyes was infectious.

"Alright," Rahul said, tightening his grip on his suit’s controls. "Let’s do this."

As the brothers made their way to the deployment zone, Rahul couldn’t shake the feeling that this mission would be different. The air was heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

And somewhere, deep within the shadows of Kolkata, the Mrityudoots stirred.