The night was dark, shrouded in thick clouds, as if the heavens themselves refused to witness what was about to unfold.

Arya stood still, his piercing gaze locked onto Swetha’s glowing form. Only he could see her.

“What is your wish?” he asked, his voice steady, like a silent storm ready to break.

Swetha stepped closer, her translucent figure shimmering in the dim light. Her voice, though soft, carried the weight of her pain, her anger.

“They ruined my life… they ruined countless lives,” she said, her fists clenched. “My last wish is to kill all those monsters, save the girls, and end Rajavarthan—so that no other hospital dares to trade lives for profit.”

Arya exhaled, his expression unreadable. But then, a slow, knowing smile formed.

“I was waiting for someone… with this very wish,” he said. “To kill Rajavarthan.”

The Slaughterhouse

A massive warehouse loomed before Arya. Inside, muffled cries of helpless girls echoed through the cold, blood-stained air. Armed goons stood guard, laughing, smoking, as if they owned the world.

The heavy door creaked open.

A shadow stepped inside.

Arya.

His face was hidden beneath a tattered hood, his body cloaked in darkness. He moved like a phantom, swift and silent. One by one, the lights flickered and died.

Then, the first scream.

A goon was yanked into the shadows. A sickening crunch followed.

Another turned, fear spreading in his eyes. A blur of movement. A swift strike to the throat. Silence.

Panic erupted. "Who the hell is that?! Who are you?!"

Arya remained silent. A shadow with burning eyes.

From the corner, Reema—one of the captive girls—lifted her head. She knew that stance. That presence.

Her breath caught. “Arya…?”

Arya looked at her. A slow nod.

The goons lunged at him, brandishing blades. A knife slashed across Arya’s back—only for the wound to disappear in an instant.

One of them pulled out a pistol, aimed at his head. The gun roared. The bullet struck Arya’s forehead—

—and fell to the ground.

Dead silence.

A trembling goon grabbed an acid flask and flung it at Arya’s face. The liquid hissed as it splashed across his skin—

Nothing.

The acid dripped from his lips like water.

Arya slowly tilted his head, gathering a single drop on his tongue. Then, with a soft blow, he sent the droplet flying—straight onto the goon’s face.

The man screamed in agony as his flesh burned instantly.

Now they understood.

He wasn’t just a man.

He was something far beyond them.

Swetha, invisible to all but Arya, stood beside him, whispering, "Yes! Destroy them! Don't stop!"

The warehouse erupted into chaos. The fight was fierce, relentless. But one by one, every last demon in human skin fell at Arya’s feet.

He freed the girls, stepping out into the night.

The police and media swarmed the scene. Cameras flashed. The world saw the horrors of organ trafficking exposed.

Yet, no one knew who had done this.

Because every man who could have spoken… was dead.

The legend of an unknown savior began to spread.

Arya made his way to Rajavarthan’s mansion, prepared for the final kill. But as he stepped inside, his breath caught.

Standing before him, shrouded in shadows, was a figure he never expected.

His guru.

The sage.

Dark energy swirled around him, his fingers tracing forbidden symbols in the air.

Arya’s fists clenched. “You…”

The sage smirked. “I was expecting you, Arya.”

From behind him, Rajavarthan stepped forward, a sickening grin on his face.

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “You knew I was coming?”

The sage’s voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it. “I was the one who told him.”

A chill ran through Arya’s spine.

The sage folded his arms. “You were never my only student, Arya. Rajavarthan has been under my guidance for centuries—long before you ever arrived.”

Arya’s breath hitched. “The two hours you vanished every day… you were with him.”

The sage nodded. “I have protected him for ages.”

Arya’s body tensed, but his voice remained controlled. “Why?”

The sage’s eyes darkened. “Because he once saved my life.”

A bitter laugh escaped Arya. “So that was the price?”

The sage's tone grew sharp. "A debt must be repaid. When I was on the brink of death, Rajavarthan provided the medicine that saved me. From that moment, he became my disciple.”

He gestured around. “Did you really think I would let you kill him?”

Swetha, still visible only to Arya, stepped forward, enraged. “He’s a monster! He kills innocent people! And you protect him?!”

The sage’s expression remained unmoved. “Justice and power do not walk hand in hand, child. Rajavarthan possesses strength beyond you. I made sure of that.”

His fingers twisted in the air, forming an intricate spell. A powerful gust of dark energy swirled around him.

Arya stepped forward instinctively—but suddenly, he couldn’t move.

A crushing force wrapped around his body like invisible chains.

The sage’s eyes gleamed. “You are strong, Arya. But you are alone.”

Arya’s fists trembled. “Let Swetha go.”

The sage exhaled, lifting his palm.

Darkness swallowed Swetha’s form.

Arya’s eyes widened. “NO!”

The sage’s voice thundered through the chamber. “She is a mortal soul. She will be reborn. But you… you are different.”

Swetha’s form began to fade.

Arya struggled, his muscles straining, his rage reaching its peak.

He roared, “Swetha!”

Her voice, breaking with fear, echoed as she was pulled into the abyss—

“Aryaaaaa!”

Then—silence.

She was gone.

Arya’s head dropped. His fists clenched so tight, his knuckles turned white.

The sage stepped closer, whispering—

“Now, let’s see if immortality can save you.”

Darkness crashed down upon Arya.

And the world faded to black.