~ "Time was running out—only, they didn't know it yet."

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Vedika's face glowed with quiet pride, the corners of her lips curling into a soft, contented smile. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson—like freshly picked tomatoes basking in the sunlight—as Shivangi's eyes sparkled with unfiltered wonder, as if she were witnessing a miracle unfold before her.

They sat in their shared sanctuary — a space that was once a bedroom but had been half-converted into a laboratory, stitched together with laughter, memories, and midnight musings. The table before them was a glorious mess—blueprints layered with scribbles, sketchpads overlapping wires, half-finished circuits nestled beside glitter pens and empty teacups. Childhood trinkets sat beside humming gadgets, echoes of their past woven into the pulse of their present.

Amid the chaos of creation, in that little haven of possibility, sat their masterpiece—proof of all they had built together.

"Thank you, thank you very much!" Shivangi's voice spilled like honey, warm and brimming with gratitude. In her hands rested the finished chip — a sleek, compact masterpiece, designed and perfected by Vedika over days of sleepless tinkering. It wasn't just hardware; it was a dream etched into reality, carefully soldered and coded into existence.

Vedika tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked away, feigning modesty but clearly basking in the praise. Shivangi's gaze lingered, curiosity bubbling beneath the surface.

"Vedu… can I ask you something?" she said at last, her tone gentle but laced with that unmistakable mix of awe and affection.

"Of course, what is it?" Vedika replied, raising a curious brow. She leaned in, resting her chin against her palm, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes. "Is this where you ask for my autograph?"

Shivangi chuckled and rolled her eyes, but then her voice softened, her curiosity peeking through. "No, I'm serious. How do you do it, Vedu?" She asked, hesitating for just a beat, her gaze sparkling with wonder. "How do you create something so beautiful… so alive? It's not just code and circuits with you — it's art. It's immersive."

She leaned in, her face just inches from Vedika's, eyes wide with fascination—like a curious little child, on the verge of uncovering a precious secret.

I knew that it was not appropriate to ask this type of question. She thought. I am well aware that neither I nor my next seven — no, not even my next 100 generations — would be able to acquire the level of concentration and determination that Vedika possesses.

After all, Vedika's exceptional concentration and determination are traits that will remain unmatched for hundreds of generations to come.

Vedika chuckled, a sly smile playing on her lips as she glanced theatrically from side to side, scanning the room like a spy about to divulge state secrets. Then, leaning in with a mock-whisper, she said, "Okay. I'm about to share my deepest secret. But shh... don't tell anyone."

Shivangi's eyes widened, her excitement practically radiating off her. She instinctively leaned closer, her body buzzing with anticipation—like a kitten drawn toward a dangling toy, ready to pounce on a long-lost treasure.

"It's all about passion, Shivangi…" Vedika began with a dramatic pause, her tone rich with faux wisdom. Then, just as Shivangi leaned in with bated breath, Vedika's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "And dedication. Which, by the way, you completely lack!"

"What—!?" Shivangi's eyes widened in mock betrayal, her mouth falling open. "You ungrateful jerk!" She shouted, her voice rising like a battle cry.

Vedika burst into laughter, the sound ringing through the room like music. Shivangi, not to be outdone, sprang from her chair and charged with exaggerated fury. What followed was pure chaos—a wild, laughter-filled chase around the room as Shivangi attempted to give her mischievous best friend a thoroughly earned, good-natured beating.

"Aaah! No!" Vedika shrieked with laughter, dodging to the side.

Before Vedika could react, Shivangi lunged at her with theatrical fury, launching into a full-on chase. The room exploded into laughter and chaos as Vedika squealed and darted between chairs and scattered blueprints, narrowly dodging Shivangi's outstretched hands. Their little sanctuary echoed with the sounds of mischief, friendship, and pure, unfiltered joy.

After 30 seconds of chasing...

"You won't get away with this, Veda!" Shivangi shouted, her voice a dramatic mix of mock fury and laughter. She chased Vedika around the room, knocking over cushions, sliding across rugs, and throwing everything within reach—a pillow, a book, even a plush flying squirrel—and hurled them with wild precision.

"You insult me after I compliment you? VEDIKA NARAYAN, PREPARE TO DIE!" She bellowed, her laughter ringing through the room like battle drums made of pure mischief.

Vedika cackled breathlessly as she dodged behind a chair. "No violence, please! I'm delicate! My brain's a national treasure!"

"You mean narcissistic treasure." Shivangi snapped, her voice breathless with laughter as she hurled a pillow across the room.

Vedika ducked just in time, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You can't hit genius!" She declared grandly, grabbing a cushion in self-defense.

She dodged or caught the items, her laughter echoing through the room, like a battle cry. "No, no, no. Shivangi, no." She pleaded dramatically, holding up her hands in defense. "No, Shivangi. My darling, please."

But Shivangi was relentless, fueled by the righteous fury of playful betrayal. Cushions had flown, a plush flying squirrel had been sacrificed, and Vedika was rapidly running out of places to hide.

Just as Shivangi lunged forward, poised to strike with another pillow, Vedika's eyes flicked to the table—and then lit up.

"Shivangi! The project!" she yelped, snatching the project chip and holding it aloft like a divine shield. "Do you want to be the reason we fail?"

Shivangi skidded to a halt, her eyes locking onto the chip. "What?" she asked, suspicious.

Vedika waved the chip in the air. "You break this, and we both fail. No dreams, no future, just eternal shame and failure."

Shivangi's eyes darted between the chip and Vedika, suspicious. "…Are you bluffing?"

Vedika tilted her head, smirking. "Wanna find out?"

There was a beat of tense silence.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Vedika quickly got closer and snatched the pillow Shivangi had been wielding.

"Nothing." Vedika said, grinning mischievously. "Just needed to stop a wild cat."

"…You're bluffing," Shivangi said flatly, but her voice had lost some of its steam.

Vedika smirked. "Am I?"

Shivangi narrowed her eyes.

And then puffed out her cheeks in mock defeat. "Ugh. Fine. You win this time, evil genius."

"National treasure, actually," Vedika corrected, still grinning, as she placed the chip back on the table with exaggerated care.

"But mark my words, I'll get back at you next time!" she said, sticking out her tongue, her face scrunched up in a mock-threatening expression. Then she crossed her arms in playful anger.

"Sure, sure." Vedika chuckled and reached out, ruffling Shivangi's hair fondly. "Plot your revenge, my little menace."

Shivangi leaned into the touch, her frown giving way to a soft smile — one that said this moment, like many others they shared, would be a memory worth keeping forever.

The room gradually quieted, their laughter fading into a warm hum of contentment. The chaotic storm of pillows and flying squirrel plushies gave way to a soft stillness, like the hush after a summer rain.

Vedika gently settled into her chair again, the grin on her face slowly melting into a look of fierce concentration. Once again, with renewed focus, she was ready — eyes sharp and hands steady — to deftly adjust the intricate design of the chip.

She inhaled deeply. 

"Nabhovajranetra." "Abhayagami."

The words fell from her lips like sacred invocations.

With a surge of awakened clarity, Vedika's eyes blazed — no longer the soft brown of earlier, but radiant golden orbs, glowing like miniature suns. She wasn't merely looking; she was perceiving — decoding layers of data woven into reality itself. Each line, each microscopic solder joint, each faint energy fluctuation shimmered into view under her Nabhovajranetra gaze. Nothing could hide from her now.

At the same time, her hands moved — not with haste, but with a mesmerizing precision. Every gesture was deliberate, like a secret whispered to the wind. The air around her pulsed gently, charged with unseen energy, as her fingers danced in a symphony only she could hear. To an onlooker, it might've looked like magic — but for Vedika, it was mastery. A harmony of intuition, intellect, and something deeper… something divine.

Shivangi leaned back, mesmerized, watching this transformation with a blend of reverence and disbelief. She had witnessed this transformation before — the shift from goofy, snarky Vedika to this golden-eyed force of precision and purpose — but it still left her a little breathless each time.

And yet, even admiration couldn't hold back mischief for long.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Shivangi tiptoed out of the room. Vedika, sensing her plan, gave a playful nod without even looking up.

A few minutes later, she returned with two frosty glasses of chilled Aam panna. The glasses clinked softly as she placed one beside Vedika's elbow.

"Here, genius." She said with exaggerated reverence. "An offering to the goddess of geniuses."

"Hmm." Vedika replied, not even glancing up. Her eyes remained locked on the chip, fingers still dancing to the rhythm only she could hear.

Shivangi waited.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

Not a single sip.

Her grin returned.

Oh, this was war.

"Vedika." Shivangi called, her voice patient at first.

No response.

"Vedikaa…" She repeated, louder this time — still nothing.

Shivangi sighed dramatically, rolled her eyes, then picked up the frosty glass and unscrewed the lid. Her grin widened with pure devilish delight.

"Oh, you asked for this." She muttered under her breath.

In one swift motion, she tilted the glass and poured a stream of cold Aam panna straight into Vedika's slightly parted lips.

"BLLRGHH—Shiv...a...ngi...!" Vedika sputtered violently, jerking upright, her hands flying to her mouth. A bit of the drink dribbled down her chin as she blinked in disbelief, coughing once.

She glared at Shivangi, eyes narrowed in mock outrage. "What the hell?! Are you trying to drown me?!"

"Just making sure the genius doesn't die of dehydration." Shivangi only shrugged, utterly unrepentant. Then laughed like a maniac. "You were ignoring me! This is justice."

Vedika glared, wiping her mouth. "I'm working with delicate tech!"

"Exactly why you need hydration." Shivangi replied sarcastically. "Drink it properly this time."

Vedika rolled her eyes, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "Okay, okay. I'm drinking it. Are you happy now?" She set aside her work and took a sip of her Aam Panna, her eyes never leaving Shivangi's face.

The tension between them was palpable — but it was a comfortable, familiar tension, born of years of friendship and playful banter. As they engaged in their lighthearted exchange, they remained oblivious to the fact that something monumental was about to happen in the next few seconds — something that would catch them completely off guard.

The air was thick with anticipation, though it was a kind of anticipation only the universe seemed to sense. Vedika and Shivangi were too caught up in their own little world — a world of laughter, shared memories, and easy companionship — to notice the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

Outside their bubble of comfort, something stirred — faint, distant, but inching closer. The kind of silence that only comes before a storm. The clock was ticking. The seconds were counting down — toward a moment that would change everything.

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[1] Nabhovajranetra (Sky Thunder Eye):
Upon activating this skill, the pupils transformed into radiant golden orbs, blazing with an otherworldly light. The vision sharpened to perfection, allowing to scan and analyze even the tiniest details in the surroundings. Nothing escaped the piercing gaze.

[2] Abhayagami (Fearless Walker):
Upon activating this skill, hands moved with an almost ethereal precision, dancing through the air as if conducting a silent symphony. Each motion seemed alive—as though fingers were whispering secrets to the unseen forces around.