The next morning, the sun rose over Amritsar—but its light felt different to Arjan.
Sharper.Clearer.As if the world itself had opened its eyes with him.
The Nihang Singhs gathered in a courtyard where weapons hung like silent guardians. Blue flags stirred in the cold breeze. Horses stood saddled, armored, their breaths steaming like smoke.
Arjan stepped out, now wearing a deep blue chola, his newly tied dumalla holding the first glimmers of steel. The kirpan at his side felt natural, as if his spirit had carried it for lifetimes.
The eldest Nihang gestured him forward.
"It is time."
Arjan nodded."For what?"
The warrior pointed to a large holo-screen that flickered to life in the courtyard.
A ruined city appeared—once called Vasundhara Metro. Now it was a wasteland of broken streets and burning towers. Armed gangs controlled the zones. Civilians were trapped between violence and desperation.
The screen zoomed in.
A group of families huddled beneath a shattered bridge.Crying children.Elders trembling.People with no food, no protection, no hope.
Arjan felt his chest tighten.
"Why hasn't anyone helped them?" he asked, voice sharp.
"Because the world has forgotten courage," a Nihang replied.
"Because leaders fear danger," said another.
"But Khalsa does not," the eldest finished.
He turned to Arjan with eyes like forged steel.
"This will be your first mission. Not a battle—an act of protection."
Arjan stepped closer to the screen."What do you want me to do?"
The Nihang placed a hand on Arjan's back.
"Not what we want. What the world needs."
Arjan straightened, his breath steady.
"I'll save them," he said.
The Nihang smiled faintly."Good. But remember—Khalsa fights only for justice, never for ego."
He handed Arjan a blue battle-scarf, worn by warriors for centuries.
"Wear this. Walk with humility. Fight with grace. Protect without hesitation."
Arjan tied it around his arm.
The Nihang then handed him something new—a sleek, futuristic gauntlet etched with ancient patterns.
"This is a Suraksha-Vaak," he explained."A shield projector. Built with new technology… guided by old wisdom."
Arjan slid it onto his forearm. It hummed with quiet power.
Another Nihang approached with a small drone shaped like a hawk.
"This will guide you through the city and broadcast your mission. People across the world will watch."
Arjan's eyes widened."They'll see me?"
"They must," the elder said."Humanity needs to witness the return of truth. Not through words—through action."
Arjan mounted the horse waiting for him, its armor glowing faintly with blue lines.
The courtyard gates opened.
A gust of desert wind swept inside.
The world outside was broken, dark, and trembling.But today, something new rode into that darkness.
A young Khalsa, newly reborn.
As Arjan galloped toward Vasundhara Metro, the elder Nihang whispered to the others:
"The first spark has left the fort."
Another nodded."And soon, sparks will become flames."
A third added softly:
"Only those who choose will walk the path… but once the world sees, many will choose."
Meanwhile, Arjan thundered across the wasteland, heart steady, eyes fierce.His first mission awaited.Innocent lives needed him.The world was watching.
This was no longer the fall of the old world.
This was the first step of the new one.
The beginning of the Future Khalsa.