Drona steadied his breath, gripping the dagger tightly in his left hand while his dominant right held the Glock-like firearm infused with his Tattva. Across from him, Vrisha stood poised, swords glinting in the dim morning light. The weight of the air thickened, their auras clashing before the battle had even begun. Without a word, they lunged.

Vrisha’s Surya Tattva-infused Talwaar blazed as it cut through the space between them. Drona fired a bullet aimed straight at his head. The impact threw Vrisha’s sword arm back, disrupting his strike, but he recovered almost instantly, countering with his Katar. The searing heat radiating from the weapon melted the edge of Drona’s dagger, twisting its form and rendering it nearly useless.

Vrisha’s footwork, powered by the Perpetual Gear, made him a blur, covering the uneven terrain with effortless glides. He twisted mid-air and delivered a devastating kick to Drona’s side, sending him crashing into a tree. Drona barely had time to regain his stance before Vrisha followed up with an energy wave from his sword, a molten arc of destruction aimed straight at him.

Drona leaped to the side, but the sheer force of the blast grazed his left leg, leaving a deep burn. He retaliated, unloading a precise volley of bullets at Vrisha, who barely managed to deflect them. One shot found its mark, piercing his shoulder, while another scraped his side. The heat from Vrisha’s previous attack had already begun to distort the forest around them,ash and soot clouding the air, embers dancing in the wake of destruction.

Vrisha smirked, despite the blood trickling down his arm. “You’re Drona, aren’t you?” he called out, pointing his sword at his opponent. “That footwork, that gun. It could only be you.”

Drona remained silent, his expression masked beneath Begtse’s war face.

“You can’t win against me like this,” Vrisha continued, his voice laced with a dangerous amusement. “Your Tattva is at a disadvantage. Space and time manipulation means nothing if you can’t use it on yourself. So why aren’t you warping me into nothingness?” He took a step forward. “Or is it that using it will reveal your identity?”

Drona’s grip on his damaged dagger tightened. With a controlled exhale, he launched himself at Vrisha once more, slashing with desperate precision. But Vrisha was unfazed, countering every strike with minimal effort. “This is unlike you,” he mused, parrying yet another attack. “No tricks, no warping. Just this? Tell me, Drona, why are you holding back?”

The tension broke as a guttural snarl echoed through the battlefield. The ground trembled as Raigon emerged from the shadows, its massive form cutting through the smoke-filled air. Its hunger-driven rage fixated on the blood dripping between them.

Vrisha’s focus split for a fraction of a second—just enough time for Drona’s dagger to slip past his defenses. The blade sank into his left arm, drawing fresh blood. The moment the wound was inflicted, Drona pulled back, knowing he had secured his escape. The beast lunged at Vrisha, its fangs bared, and the army officer barely had time to react.

Drona wasted no time. He sprinted to where Kriday lay hidden beneath the shroud of his cloak. With swift, practiced movements, he secured the unconscious boy to his back and vanished into the thickening mist of battle.

Vrisha, now locked in combat with Raigon, struggled to hold back the relentless beast. He knew harming it would be disastrous, Raigon was sacred, a being no one dared to slay. He attempted to push it away, but the creature, drawn by the scent of blood, was unrelenting. With no other choice, he swung his Surya-infused Talwaar, aiming only to wound, to drive it back. But in a cruel twist of fate, the lethal energy coursing through his blade burned too deep.

Raigon let out a final, agonized roar before collapsing. The world seemed to still.

Vrisha stood frozen, his own breath betraying him. His hands trembled, sword dripping with sacred blood. His heart pounded as the weight of his actions crashed down upon him. He had slain a creature of divine significance.

Tears rolled down Drona’s hidden face as he vanished into the horizon. Vrisha clenched his jaw in frustration, his mind racing.

Was he really Drona? Or just a Image what I wanted to be?

The sun crested the sky just as Vrisha’s entourage arrived. They stood in silent shock, gazing at the lifeless Raigon and their captain, staring up at the heavens, his sword still clutched tightly in his hands.

Exposed to the full Sun at horizon, steam started oozing out of Vrisha as it started burning his skin.

Three days after the incident

A faint beeping sound echoed through the dimly lit underground chamber, its rhythmic pulse breaking the otherwise dead silence. The air was thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic, mixed with the faint metallic tang of machinery at work. Rows of luminescent screens lined the walls, displaying a series of vital signs, data streams, and encrypted messages. This was no ordinary hideout, it was a sanctum of technology far beyond anything found in the world above. A hidden bastion of innovation, buried deep beneath the surface.

In the center of the chamber, Kriday lay motionless on a metallic table, wires and sensors attached to his body, feeding information into the life-support system keeping him stable. His chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, his body visibly scarred from whatever ordeal had brought him here. A soft hum from the medical apparatus filled the air as a transparent intravenous fluid dripped into his veins, steadily repairing the damage he had sustained.

Drona stood by the bedside, arms crossed, his eyes shadowed beneath the glow of the monitors. He had spent the past three days waiting, watching, and deciphering the anomalies in Kriday’s condition. The resemblance was uncanny, there was no denying it. But was it doesn’t make sense

Then, at last, a flicker. A twitch of the fingers, a shift in breath. Kriday’s eyelids fluttered before snapping open, his gaze unfocused and hazy. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as his senses returned in an overwhelming rush. He groaned, trying to move, only to find his limbs stiff and uncooperative.

Drona, in his late twenties, wasted no time. He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Kriday’s shoulder, pushing him gently back down. “You need to stay still. Your body is still recovering.” His voice was measured, composed, but laced with an undeniable urgency.

Kriday’s eyes darted around the room, absorbing his unfamiliar surroundings. His breathing quickened. “Where…where am I?” he rasped, his throat dry as sandpaper.

“You’re safe, for now,” Drona replied, studying the young man’s reaction. “But that’s not what concerns me. I need answers.”

Kriday turned his gaze to the man before him. He was clad in a reinforced combat suit, a mixture of traditional battle-worn armor and sleek technological enhancements. His presence was imposing, not just in stature but in aura. There was something dangerous about him, something calculated.

Drona’s fingers moved swiftly across a nearby console, and within seconds, a holographic projection flared to life in front of Kriday. A digital reconstruction of a familiar object, his student ID. The insignia of Nalanda University shimmered faintly against the blue-tinted screen.

Drona’s eyes narrowed. “This ID was found in your belongings. You’re a student of Nalanda University. That institution does not exist in this world.”

Kriday’s breath hitched. His mind raced. How did he know about Nalanda? What does he mean, this world?

Drona leaned in closer, his voice unwavering. “Who sent you here? What was their objective?”

Kriday’s head throbbed as memories surfaced in chaotic flashes—his last moments before everything went dark, the inexplicable sensation of being pulled into something beyond comprehension. He clutched at the blanket draped over him, his pulse hammering.

Drona’s eyes remained locked onto him, waiting for an answer.

Kriday swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I…I don’t know.”

A pause. Then, Drona exhaled through his nose, clearly unsatisfied but not entirely surprised. He stepped back, arms folding across his chest. “That’s not good enough,” he muttered. “You didn’t just appear here by chance. Someone sent you—either intentionally… or by mistake.”

A heavy silence hung between them, the weight of those words settling in.

Kriday’s heart pounded against his ribs. If this wasn’t an accident… then who? And why?

And for the first time since waking, Kriday realized his arrival in this world was no mere twist of fate.