The middle of everything was sinking into Kriday. His mind, still fogged from his prolonged unconsciousness, struggled to process the reality before him. The sterile hum of machines monitoring his vitals filled the otherwise silent underground chamber. Drona, noticing Kriday's stabilized condition, pulled his stool closer to the gurney, his sharp gaze studying the young man before him.

“I am surprised... Why after 27 years has someone appeared the same way I did? At least 27 years if I count with respect to my arrival here,” Drona mused, his tone laced with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Kriday, still groggy but now more alert, frowned. “You are the same as me?” His voice carried confusion, but also a rising sense of intrigue.

“You heard me right. My name is Drona, and I am a resident of Delhi, India,” Drona declared, watching Kriday's reaction closely.

The revelation sent a jolt through Kriday. He stared at Drona, his mind racing. Another man from India, from his world? What were the chances?

Pulling himself up slightly, he asked, “Then which place is this? Or what exactly is this region?”

Drona took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “This is Dwitansh, a realm of longevity and abundance. You are currently in Shangri-La, within Shambhala.” He kept the explanation brief, gauging how Kriday would react.

Instead of panicking or resisting, Kriday's eyes gleamed with a spark of life. He was absorbing this information differently than Drona had expected.

“Aren’t you sad?” Drona questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Kriday scoffed lightly. “Why would I be?”

“I expected you to be baffled, desperate even. People in your situation would typically say, 'I just wish to go back as soon as possible,' and mourn their loss.” Drona teased, though there was a serious undertone to his words.

The air around them shifted as Kriday's expression darkened. His voice carried an unfamiliar softness as he murmured, “I wish I had someone to look forward to, back at home. I live alone... and I have been like this ever since I became conscious of myself.” He leaned forward slightly, the weight of his past pressing against him. “But I am alone here too. And yet, I feel as if I’ve been given a second chance. A chance to restart, to fix my mistakes, and rebuild everything from scratch. That’s why I feel excited rather than sad.”

Drona studied him carefully. “Don’t you have friends or anyone you treasure?”

For a moment, Kriday hesitated. Images of Drithra and Shishta flickered through his mind. The warmth of their presence, the memories of their time together... He was growing more aware of himself and what he had left behind. His eyes softened, but he remained silent.

Drona, noticing the shift, leaned back. “Seems like you have someone... or maybe more. Either way, even if you had declared your desire to return, chances of making it back are slim.” His voice carried the weight of his own failures.

Kriday watched him closely, sensing the burden the man carried. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable.

Drona exhaled, his expression shadowed with regret. “I myself have been stuck here for 27 years... and I have failed miserably as a human. I lost my will to go back and face the people I left behind. Solitude is the greatest redemption I can get for my ‘karma.’”

Kriday observed him in silence before responding, “At least there is someone waiting for you.”

Drona flinched slightly. The words struck something deep within him. But his logical mind took over before the emotion could settle.

“Only if they have made it this far,” he said, his voice quieter now. The possibility of his family surviving all these years was unbearably low. Memories of his past surfaced in fragments—the laughter of his loved ones, the warmth of shared moments, the promises left unfulfilled. They felt like ghosts now, distant and unreachable.

“I have been here for 27 years without knowing anything about my world...” He let out a heavy breath. “Holding onto hope is easy, but if it never turns true, it haunts you. You might end up losing yourself.” He looked at Kriday, a question lingering in his gaze. “Will you still tread that path?”

Kriday held his gaze, unwavering. “Losing a precious one is not always a choice. But losing oneself... always is.”

Drona stiffened. The intensity of those words left him speechless. For the first time in years, something stirred inside him—a realization he had long suppressed. Giving up had been easy. Too easy. He had never tried to mend the tattered remains of his soul. He had simply let himself wither.

Breaking the silence, Drona finally asked, “Just one question... Have you ever heard of the teleportation experiment that failed?”

Kriday frowned, thinking for a moment. “No. Never.”

“Was there ever a mass missing report registered?” Drona pressed, his mind starting to piece things together.

Kriday tilted his head slightly before asking in return, “Where were you in 2028?”

Drona blinked, caught off guard. “March 19th, 2028 was when I got transported to this world. Why?”

Kriday's expression shifted dramatically. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched.

“The Great Catastrophe happened on March 20th, 2028.”

A silence heavier than before settled between them. Drona's fingers clenched involuntarily.

“What happened that day?” he asked, his voice low, cautious.

Kriday exhaled, his tone grim. “I wasn’t born yet, but from what I’ve learned, something unexplainable happened. Thousands of morphed and disseminated bodies were discovered across different locations. Millions went missing. This continued for nearly four years, reducing the global population to a billion. Even today, similar cases appear sporadically.”

Drona's breathing slowed. This was too much to be coincidence.

Kriday continued, “That’s also when ‘Isolated’ appeared worldwide. They possessed abilities beyond human comprehension, yet instead of aiding humanity, they chose rebellion. They called it ‘independence.’ They even adopted the ‘Swastik’ as their symbol, and in doing so, the West used it as an excuse to further distort its meaning—a once-sacred sign turned into a mark of terror.”

Drona's hands trembled slightly. His mind raced. His failure... had it triggered all of this?

“You being transported here is somehow my responsibility,” he admitted, his voice weighed down with guilt. “I wanted to create a portal for instant travel across vast distances... but I ended up creating this.”

Kriday studied him, then, with a wry smile, said, “Well. I don’t mind.”

Drona looked at him in disbelief.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Kriday added, forcing a smirk despite the unease stirring in his gut. “I don’t bear any ill will towards you. We don’t even know if you triggered everything. And frankly, worrying about it won’t change anything.”

Drona wanted to believe those words. But deep down, something told him—this was no coincidence. Some unknown force has set them.

Kriday had finally settled, at least externally. The weight of revelations still pressed against his mind, yet he remained composed, his thoughts weaving through the labyrinth of everything he had just learned. The silence between him and Drona stretched, heavy yet oddly comfortable. But one question gnawed at him, refusing to be ignored.

“How am I still alive...?” The words carried more weight than he anticipated, laced with an unspoken fear.

Drona, who had been staring into the dim glow of the ceiling, turned his gaze toward him. “Tattva.”

Kriday frowned. “Tattva?”

“The essence that governs this world,” Drona explained. “Elements or aspects of reality that shape human experience. This realm has seen wars far worse than ours, conflicts that shook the very core of existence. To counterbalance destruction, nature forged a force—Tattva—that sustains life in ways unfathomable to us. It heals wounds, restores vitality, and keeps one alive until the heart stops completely. The mortality rate here is significantly lower than what you know.”

Kriday absorbed the information, his mind racing. “Does that mean life expectancy is higher too?” he asked, trying to make sense of it all.

Drona nodded. “800 to 1000 years, on average.”

A dry chuckle escaped Kriday’s lips. “That’s... unsettling.” His voice held disbelief, as if the mere concept of living that long defied his comprehension. “I don’t think I can picture it yet.”

“You will, in time,” Drona said with quiet certainty. Then his expression turned sharper, his gaze intense. “Tattva has accepted you. If it hadn’t, you would have died the moment you stepped into this world. This world has chosen you, Kriday. Don’t waste this second chance.”

Kriday met his eyes, feeling the gravity of his words. A strange sensation twisted in his chest—not fear, but something deeper, something that felt dangerously close to fate.

But his mind, ever eager to deflect, latched onto another curiosity. He leaned forward slightly. “You said you were transported here 27 years ago.” His eyes trailed over Drona’s face, noting the sharp, disciplined features. “But you look like someone in his early thirties. What’s your secret? Strict workout routine? Dieting?” He smirked, trying to lighten the moment.

Drona exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Tattva.”

“That again?” Kriday let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

“We are bound by this world’s laws, whether we like it or not,” Drona stated. “You, too, will feel its effects. There is no escaping it.”

Drona suddenly rose from his seat, his presence imposing. The shift in his demeanor made it clear—the conversation was over, at least for now.

“I don’t know why,” he muttered, half to himself, “but I can’t just leave you to your own devices. Perhaps our fates are intertwined.” He turned to Kriday fully. “Rest for a week. After that, I will engrave the basics into your mind.”

Kriday’s expression stiffened. “Basics?”

Drona crossed his arms. “Self-defense, politics, geography, history, sciences—everything you need to understand this world. Consider it, your enrollment into a Gurukul.” His lips twitched into a knowing smirk. “And I? I am your Guru.”

Kriday groaned, running a hand over his face. “Isn’t there an easier way?”

“No,” Drona said flatly. “And one day, when the time is right, I will ask for my due.”

Kriday arched his brow. “Your due?”

Drona’s gaze was unwavering. “Gurudakshina.”

Before Kriday could protest, Drona turned on his heel and strode away, leaving him alone on the gurney, dazed and uncertain.

A new page in his life was about to be written. Whether he was ready or not, the story was already unfolding, and the secrets of this world waited just beyond the horizon.