The office on the 15th floor of the Satpura Range's underground "cube" blazed with unrelenting LED light, weakening Amar's shadows but not his resolve. He gripped Aryan Kapoor—The Man—by the throat, his golden eyes burning through the dark haze cloaking his face. The three ministers—Gupta, Singh, and Reddy—huddled in a corner, trembling. Rajan, captain of the 1000 fighters, stood with 150 soldiers, weapons lowered, their loyalty wavering. The air crackled with tension as Amar's voice cut through. "Rajan, contact the other two facilities—Kerala, Hyderabad. Tell every villager, every soldier contracted to Kapoor, what's happening. He's done. If they want to live, they can contract with me. One hour. Call them all, video link, now."
Before Rajan could move, a flicker disrupted the light—a holographic figure materialized, barely visible in the glare. A man, lean and sharp-eyed, bowed slightly. "I am Vikram Sethi, equal to Kapoor, a chair in the Council of 25. Amar, you're extraordinary. Join us—replace Kapoor as the 25th. Rule this country. I'll help save these people."
Amar's shadows flared, his voice a growl. "No deals. I'm not stopping with Kapoor. After I save these people, I'm coming for all 25 of you. The Council ends." Sethi's hologram flickered, his expression unreadable, then vanished.
Rajan nodded, moving to a console. He activated a video link to the Kerala and Hyderabad facilities, summoning villagers and soldiers. In the cube's main hall. On screens, faces appeared—farmers, mothers, children, soldiers, all contracted to Kapoor's Sound. Rajan's voice was steady but urgent. "The Man—Kapoor—falls today. The God of Darkness offers salvation. If you want your children, your families spared, contract with him. He can save you. This is your only chance."
Murmurs erupted—fear, doubt, hope. A woman in Kerala clutched a child, asking, "Will we be free?" A Hyderabad soldier demanded, "Why trust him?" Rajan's reply was firm. "Your children don't have to die. Choose now." In an hour, 2000-3000 people—villagers, some soldiers—stepped forward across the three villages, willing to live.
Amar faced the screens, his voice resonant. "I am the God of Darkness. Contract with me, and you live. I'll free you after." Shadows surged from his jacket, splitting into thousands of tendrils, each slipping through screens and air, forming contracts with 2000-3000 souls simultaneously. The cube hummed with his power, darkness defying the light.
He turned to Kapoor, still in his grip. "I've saved them. You're done. I'll kill you now, and they won't die with you. Then I release them."
Kapoor's eyes widened, frustration flashing. "You… you can't—"
Amar glanced at Rajan, shadows softening. "Join them, Rajan. Contract with me. Live."
Rajan knelt, head bowed, voice heavy. "I've killed too many under him. If I live, how do I face those I failed? I'm ready to die, Master."
Amar's heart sank, but he nodded. Turning to Kapoor, he saw the man's desperation—pleading, begging. "Please, I'm sorry, I—"
"You lost your chance," Amar said, voice cold. With a single motion, he snapped Kapoor's neck. The proxy of Sound collapsed, lifeless. A ripple spread—soldiers still contracted to him, hundreds across the cube and villages, dropped dead, their bonds severed. The ministers gasped, but the 2000-3000 under Amar's contract stood firm, alive.
Amar faced them, shadows swirling. "I'll release you now. Live freely, but know this: my shadows linger with you. If you harm others, they'll find you. If you need help, call to your shadow—I'll answer." The room fell silent, the weight of freedom settling over the survivors.
....Season 1 End...…..
Note from Nikhil T.
Dear Readers,
I'm taking a brief hiatus to celebrate the joyous festival of Diwali and enjoy a travel adventure with my family. I'll be away soaking in the festivities and exploring new places, but I'll return on November 1, 2025, recharged and ready to share more stories and insights with you. Thank you for your continued support and understanding during this festive break!
Warmest wishes,
Nikhil T.