The night didn't feel normal.
Yeshwanth noticed it before his mind could explain it — a subtle irritation crawling under his skin, like static before a storm. The air around him felt delayed, as if reality itself was responding a fraction of a second too late.
His footsteps echoed strangely on the empty road.
Not louder.
Hollower.
He stopped walking.
The streetlight ahead flickered once… then stabilized.
The system stayed silent.
That was the problem.
Usually, when danger approached, warnings came. Alerts. Calculations. Threat levels.
This time — nothing.
Yeshwanth slowly exhaled.
"Someone's here," he muttered.
A soft sound followed.
Not footsteps.
Not wind.
More like… fabric brushing against existence.
She was already standing there.
Leaning casually against the railing near the roadside tea stall, untouched cups still steaming beside her. She hadn't appeared — she had been.
Her presence didn't press down like power usually did. No suffocating aura. No divine pressure.
Just awareness.
She turned her head slightly, eyes sharp, observant, dissecting him without urgency.
Black hair tied loosely. Dark coat. Calm posture.
Not a warrior.
Not a civilian.
Something in between — and above.
Yeshwanth didn't reach for his weapon.
Instinct told him it would be pointless.
She smiled faintly. Not mockingly. Not kindly.
Curiously.
"Relax," she said softly. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have noticed me at all."
That alone made his spine tense.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She ignored the question.
Her gaze drifted past him — far past — toward something he couldn't see.
"Do you know," she said, voice almost thoughtful, "what happens to a pearl thrown into shark waters?"
Yeshwanth said nothing.
Silence stretched.
The woman pushed herself off the railing and finally looked directly at him.
"Some pearls break," she continued.
"Others…" her lips curved slightly, "…learn how to bite."
His chest tightened.
Nila.
He didn't say her name.
But his heart did.
The woman turned away, already losing definition, her presence thinning like mist under moonlight.
"Your pearl," she added calmly, "is already drifting."
And then—
She was gone.
No flash.
No distortion.
Just absence.
Yeshwanth clenched his fists.
The wind shifted.
Somewhere far beyond sight, something had set its eyes on the current.
THE HEADQUARTERS OF GODS
The Hall of Convergence rarely echoed with urgency.
Today, it did.
Golden pillars rose endlessly into the glowing ceiling as divine figures gathered — projections, incarnations, fragments of will. The air vibrated with restrained tension.
At the center stood the God of Spy, his eyes glowing with layered sigils, information cascading behind him like invisible screens.
"Report," demanded one of the elder gods.
The God of Spy spoke without embellishment.
"Heir-level movements have been disrupted across multiple realms," he said. "Tracking interference detected. Patterns suggest coordinated intent."
Murmurs spread.
"Assassination?"
"No," the God of Spy replied. "Capture."
That word hit harder.
The God of Realms narrowed his eyes.
"By whom?"
Silence.
The God of Spy hesitated — just slightly.
"…Unknown. But the signatures don't align with any registered divine faction."
That was worse.
Across the hall, the God of Light remained still, expression unreadable.
"Heirs are being targeted," another god said sharply. "This violates the Accord."
"The Accord protects gods," the God of Spy replied. "Not what hunts them."
That sentence dropped like a blade.
The God of Realms turned toward the God of Light.
"You know something."
The God of Light didn't deny it.
Instead, he said quietly, "I know who must be protected."
SUMMONING — WITHOUT PERMISSION
Yeshwanth felt it mid-breath.
The system roared back to life.
[FORCED TRANSFER INITIATED]
[OVERRIDE AUTHORITY: GOD OF LIGHT]
"What—" was all he managed before the world collapsed inward.
Light swallowed him whole.
THE REALM OF GODS
Yeshwanth landed on solid ground — marble etched with cosmic runes — barely managing to steady himself.
He looked up.
Gods.
Dozens of them.
Watching.
Judging.
The pressure here wasn't aggressive — it was absolute.
The God of Realms stepped forward immediately.
"Why was this mortal summoned?" he demanded. "Without my consent?"
The God of Light finally moved.
"Because," he said calmly, "when fate becomes violent… love reacts faster than law."
Before anyone could respond—
A ripple passed through the hall.
Nila froze mid-step.
Her breath caught.
Her heart skipped.
She turned sharply.
"Yeshwanth—!"
She didn't hesitate.
Didn't care about gods watching.
Didn't care about protocol.
She crossed the hall in seconds and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as if confirming he was real.
Yeshwanth stood stunned.
Then slowly raised a hand… and held her back.
The hall fell into complete silence.
The God of Realms' eyes narrowed dangerously.
The God of Light spoke before he could.
"The intelligence came from the God of Spy," he said. "There is a large-scale movement targeting godly heirs."
He turned his gaze to Nila.
"She is one of them."
Nila tightened her grip.
"You summoned him… because of me?" she asked.
"Yes," the God of Light replied.
The God of Realms scoffed.
"How could he protect my daughter from forces that even gods cannot see?"
The God of Light met his gaze evenly.
"Because," he said, "he has already crossed the boundary between survival and sacrifice."
He looked at Yeshwanth.
"And he is willing to do whatever love demands."
Yeshwanth felt Nila's forehead rest against his chest.
Her voice was quiet.
"I knew it," she whispered. "Something moved."
The God of Realms said nothing.
But his silence wasn't dismissal.
It was calculation.
THE DECLARATION
The God of Light stepped closer.
"Yeshwanth," he said, voice carrying authority now, "your survival threshold has ended."
The system reacted instantly.
[WARNING: EVOLUTION REQUIREMENT DETECTED]
"You've been borrowing power," the god continued. "Pushing limits meant to break you. That is no longer sufficient."
Nila looked up sharply.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," the God of Light said, "he must awaken."
The hall stirred.
"New power," he continued, "requires a new weapon. One that aligns with his psychology, not his desperation."
Yeshwanth swallowed.
"And when?" he asked.
The God of Light smiled faintly.
"Soon."
Too soon.
Far away — beyond divine sight — something smiled wider.
A presence stirred.
The current shifted.
The pearl drifted deeper.
And the sharks began to circle.