Year 21XX
World War III had raged for over half a decade. India, having maintained neutrality for years, had finally entered the conflict the previous winter.
Over the Indian Ocean
A jet aircraft operated by the Indian Navy cruised high above the Indian Ocean, its white fuselage gleaming beneath the clear midday sun. The emblem of the Indian Navy was displayed prominently on its tail as the aircraft continued southward, having departed from the Indian mainland and now making its way toward an undisclosed naval base deep in the Indian Ocean.
The aircraft had only a handful of people aboard. Two Navy officers occupied the cockpit, both experienced pilots currently assigned away from combat duties, while three members of the cabin crew attended to the lone passenger and his four security personnel.
The passenger sat quietly inside the cabin.
He was a young man, tall and dark-brown skinned, with a lean, well-toned build that spoke more of discipline than physical vanity. His short hair was nearly black, contrasting with the unusually light grey of his eyes. He wore a dark blue two-piece suit, impeccably fitted, with a small Indian tricolour insignia embroidered near the upper pocket.
A black briefcase rested beside him. Its surface bore the emblem of India, beneath which the words GOVERNMENT OF INDIA had been stamped in gold.
There was nothing particularly unusual about the young man at first glance. To most people, he was simply a very handsome government official. But the deeper one looked into his life, the more remarkable it became.
His name was Raj Sharma.
He came from a wealthy and highly influential family. His father had once served as the Chief of Army Staff, though only for a relatively short period, while his mother, who had died when Raj was barely ten, had been a magnate whose political influence had extended far beyond what the family's wealth alone could have afforded.
Even that was not the most remarkable part of the Sharma family.
It had produced two of the most important Prime Ministers in the history of the country, both of whom had played major roles in shaping the India that existed today.
And Raj himself had hardly been an ordinary child.
From a young age, he had been educated at one of the country's finest institutions, the Imperial Gupta Institute. He consistently ranked near the top of his class and sought positions of responsibility whenever he was old enough to hold them, eventually graduating ahead of the usual schedule.
He had originally intended to join the Armed Forces, but was rejected after failing a medical examination for a condition beyond his control. Instead, he turned toward the civil services.
At an unusually young age, he cleared the UPSE(205X) examination and entered the Indian Administrative Service.
But rather than beginning his career in the field like most young officers, however, Raj found himself working directly within the Prime Minister's Office almost from the beginning.
On paper, he was an IAS officer.
In practice, however, he did things that his title alone could not explain.
----
Raj sat in the cabin, looking out through the window at the open ocean and the clear sky beyond it.
He appeared calm and lost in thought.
After some time, one of the pilots stepped out from the cockpit.
"Sir, we are ten minutes from DELTA. If everything continues as it has been, we should be on the ground in about thirty minutes."
"All right. Though, why did you come out here to tell me yourself?" Raj asked in a calm, almost soothing voice.
The pilot hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Sir, you might not remember me, but my brother served directly under your father as his ADC until his untimely death. He spoke about you often, and still does to this day. So I wanted to speak with you myself."
Raj listened quietly, maintaining the same calm expression. Internally, however, he was less pleased by the conversation.
Still, he smiled politely.
"So you are Manoj's brother. Please thank him for the time he served my father."
"I will. But it is I who should be thanking you. When my brother was injured in that attack, you were the one who decided to help provide him with the experimental drugs. Without them, he would have died."
"I simply did what I believed was necessary. You need not thank me for it."
----
Half an Hour Later
The jet finally touched down on the runway of an airstrip operated by the Indian Air Force. As the engines began to wind down, Raj gathered his briefcase and stepped out of the aircraft.
A waiting vehicle convoy stood a short distance away, accompanied by several escorts. At its head stood a woman in her thirties, dressed in a bright formal saree. Like Raj, she wore a small tricolour insignia near her upper chest, marking her as part of the official detail assigned to him.
As Raj approached, she straightened and offered him a polite smile.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Sharma. My name is Fathima. I will be acting as your escort for the duration of your stay, until your departure."
Raj returned her smile and offered a slight nod.
"Ma'am, please call me Raj. That's what everyone calls me, and I suspect I'll make you feel rather old if you keep calling me Mr. Sharma."
There was a faint amusement in his voice.
Fathima blinked before letting out a small laugh. "I doubt that, Mr. Sharma."
"You see? You've already ignored my first request."
That earned another smile from her.
"All right, Raj," she said, conceding. "I'll do my best."
"Thank you. And please don't feel the need to be overly formal with me. We're going to be working together for the next few hours, after all."
He said it easily, without the slightest hint of condescension. There was something naturally disarming about the young man. Despite the security detail around him and the official insignia on his suit, he carried himself without the stiffness she had expected from someone of his position.
Fathima gestured toward the waiting vehicles.
"Shall we?"
"After you, Ma'am."
They began walking toward the convoy, Raj falling into step beside her rather than making her walk behind him. He answered her questions when she made conversation and occasionally returned one of his own, his manner relaxed and courteous throughout.
It was only after they had reached the vehicles that Fathima finally glanced at him with some curiosity.
"May I ask you something, Raj?"
"Of course."
"Why are you here personally?"
Raj's smile faded.
The change was subtle, but immediate. The easy warmth disappeared from his expression, replaced by the calm, measured demeanour of a government official accustomed to serious matters.
"I am here to deliver the orders for India's entry into the war," he said. "And to personally oversee the first plans being put into motion."
For a moment, Fathima said nothing.
Then she looked at the young man beside her with a very different expression.
-----
Later in the Day
After a short rest at the base and a helicopter ride over the ocean, Raj finally arrived at one of India's largest naval installations.
The sprawling base had been constructed during his late grandmother's 'rule' as Prime Minister and had since grown into the largest undisclosed—but widely known—naval base in the Indian Ocean. Its true capabilities, however, remained unknown to the world at large.
And at its centre lay the pride of the Indian Navy.
The INS Ashoka.
The largest aircraft carrier in the world and one of the most advanced warships ever built, the carrier represented the height of India's naval power. Its decks supported everything from large fixed-wing aircraft to unmanned aerial vehicles, while its arsenal incorporated the latest generation of directed-energy weapons.
Raj stepped out of the vehicle and looked up at the enormous vessel before him.
Miss Fathima remained behind with the escort detail as Raj approached the boarding area. After presenting his identification to the waiting crew, he was allowed through without delay.
He gave Fathima and the escort a brief nod before turning toward the gangway. With his briefcase in hand, he crossed the short distance to the carrier and began making his way aboard.
Within moments, Raj Sharma had stepped onto the deck of the Ashoka.
The officer waiting to receive him immediately saluted. Raj returned the gesture almost instinctively. Having grown up as the son of a military officer and once prepared for a career in the Armed Forces himself, the gesture felt more familiar than foreign. He lowered his hand and extended it, and the officer accepted it with a firm handshake.
"Welcome aboard the INS Ashoka, Sir."
"It is my honour to be here," Raj replied. He glanced around the enormous deck, his eyes lingering on the aircraft and equipment around them. "Though I suggest you take me to Vice-Admiral Karthi before I start wandering around and admiring everything you've managed to put on this ship."
He laughed lightly.
The officer laughed as well.
"I'd be happy to show you around. Though, as you requested, let me take you to the Vice-Admiral first. I'm sure the Prime Minister has something important in mind if you've been sent all the way here."
Raj gave him an amused smile.
"That would be a reasonable assumption."
The officer gestured for him to follow, and the two began walking across the deck.
Sailors moved across the carrier in every direction, accompanied by aircrew and other personnel carrying out their duties. Some worked on aircraft, others performed maintenance on equipment, while teams moved supplies through the ship, from spare parts to ammunition. Beneath the constant movement was the organised rhythm of a vessel preparing for war.
Raj was escorted toward the bridge, the towering superstructure near the rear of the carrier from which the ship, its aircraft and the accompanying fleet were commanded.
Once inside, they proceeded below deck to a private room. Raj took a seat while the officer remained at the door, standing at attention.
Several minutes later, footsteps could be heard approaching.
The door opened, and an elderly man entered.
Raj immediately rose to his feet and saluted. Once the formal greeting was returned, he offered his hand.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Vice-Admiral Karthi."
"Raj, come on. I'm your uncle. Stop being so stiff around me," the old man said with a laugh.
"With all due respect, Vice-Admiral, I am here in my capacity as the Prime Minister's aide. I cannot address you by our family ties."
Vice-Admiral Karthi sighed, but there was a faint smile on his face.
"Very well. Sit."
He gestured toward the others in the room, signalling for them to leave. They did so without question, and soon the door closed behind them, leaving the two men alone.
Karthi settled into the seat opposite Raj.
"So, what does the Prime Minister require of us?"
Raj opened his briefcase and withdrew a sealed file, placing it in front of the Vice-Admiral.
"These are the official declarations of war," he said. "Along with orders for your fleet to move out within the hour."
Karthi looked down at the file but did not open it.
"So... it's time."
"It is."
Raj's voice remained calm.
"We will begin by engaging the Chinese forces in the South China Sea before turning our attention toward the Arabian Peninsula. Ground forces should begin crossing the borders within the next few hours, while the Air Force has been tasked with striking key targets in Tibet and across Southeast Asia. In fact, the high-altitude bombers should already be in the air."
Karthi listened without interruption.
For several moments, the old man remained silent.
Then he looked up.
"Raj... are you all right?"
Raj's expression barely changed.
"Vice-Admiral, I don't believe that is something we should be discussing now."
Karthi sighed.
Before saying anything further, he tapped something into the wristband around his arm. Whatever he had done, it seemed to satisfy him, and he leaned back in his chair.
"Raj, I know what you've been doing. And as someone in the Navy, I can understand some of it. But are you really all right with this?"
He paused.
"My brother is dead. Your mother is also long gone. And now you are almost entirely alone as well."
His voice softened.
"So I will ask you again. Are you all right?"
Raj remained silent for a moment.
"Uncle."
His voice was still calm, but the warmth he had shown earlier was gone.
"I have no regrets about what I have done."
He leaned back slightly.
"And besides, even if I had wanted to force this through at any cost, we both know I do not possess the influence our family once had. I couldn't simply push people aside and make things happen because I wanted them to."
His gaze remained fixed on his uncle.
"I have had to move carefully. I have had to push, persuade and manoeuvre for over past two years to get us here. I have known exactly what I was doing."
He paused.
"I have watched people I knew die because of the chooses I made. I knew that was possible long before today."
Raj's expression remained composed.
"So please, Uncle. Don't worry about me."
Karthi sighed and studied him for a moment before speaking again.
"You know, you really are the spitting image of our grandmother."
"Well, she had what it took to take politics into her own hands, while I hide behind the assets and connections I have," Raj replied.
Karthi sighed again.
Mother, he really is like you, he thought to himself.
"Well, let's leave that aside. I still have some time before my men need me. How about some family time? We can play chess and have tea, just like old times."
As he spoke, Karthi tapped something into his wristband.
Raj simply nodded. "Alright."
A few moments later, two cups of tea and a chessboard were brought into the room. The two men, uncle and nephew, sat across from one another and played for a while, the tension of the war temporarily set aside as they returned to something familiar.
Then—
BOOM!
An explosion rocked the ship.
Raj's hand stopped above the chessboard as the vessel shuddered beneath them. Before either man could speak—
BOOM!
A second explosion erupted, this time much closer.
Raj's POV
What the hell happened? And where am I?
The thought came sluggishly as I began to regain consciousness. I tried to move my hands, then my head, but nothing responded. My body felt strangely light, as though I were trying to control near broken limbs.
Then I realised I was being moved.
Am I being carried?
I could feel myself lying down, but I couldn't tell where I was or who was moving me. My thoughts were still hazy, drifting in and out of focus, while faint voices reached me from somewhere nearby.
"He is... blood."
I couldn't make out the rest.
I tried to move my head towards the voice, but even that seemed beyond me.
Another voice spoke.
"...still conscious. Call Dr. Ka..."
Doctor?
Am I in a hospital?
The thought barely formed before another possibility entered my mind.
What happened? A surprise attack?
But who?
I tried to make sense of what had happened, but my thoughts were already slipping away again. The voices around me became distant, their words fading into a dull murmur.
Then everything went dark once more.
-----
I finally woke up.
This time, when my eyes opened, I could see something. The world was still blurred, but unlike before, it was no longer just a black haze. A bright light shone directly above me, forcing me to squint as I tried to move.
My body responded this time.
Barely.
I felt myself restrained, unable to move freely, and as that realisation settled in, my hearing gradually returned as well. I could hear metal moving somewhere nearby, machines making unfamiliar noises, and people speaking in calm, low voices.
Then I caught a glimpse of what looked like metal grilles close to my left.
I tried to move my left hand, but nothing happened. I tried my right instead. This time I felt it move, though I could barely see it. As I managed to lift it, a hand immediately pressed it back down.
"He is awake now."
Another voice answered almost immediately.
"Make sure he doesn't move. Sedate him now."
The hand on my right shifted.
I tried to move again.
"What happened?" I asked.
The words came out with remarkable clarity.
For a moment, everything around me stopped.
Only for a second or two. Then the sounds resumed.
The hand holding my right arm moved faster, and someone spoke from somewhere beside me.
"There was an attack, and you were the only one majorly injured. So please, rest easy. You will live."
The voice came from my right.
Something about it just felt wrong. And I couldn't explain why.
Then a thought entered my mind.
I might die.
I didn't say anything.
But moments later, memories began flooding back.
"Your mother has left us." I saw my father tell me that, as I saw my mothers life less body.
Mother. I though to myself as I saw her face clearly in the first time since she died.
"He's like a brother to us."
Faces, voices and places I had almost forgotten.
Then came memories that were though unpleasant, were things that I did not mind.
"Being with him would be a hassle, you know. Sure, you get a lot, but he just stays with his guns out all the time."
"Not even Dictators are not this cruel!!!"
"To bad I am a Tyrant then."
I almost smiled.
Then came memories that were not so pleasant.
A moment I had tried very hard not to remember.
And then—
Something I truly did not want to remember.
Third Person POV
"What the hell are you doing? Sedate him immediately!" the head doctor shouted as the anaesthetist remained frozen, seemingly unable to move at the pace he demanded. He watched in disbelief as the doctor continued staring at the patient.
"Sorry! On it!" the anaesthetist finally replied, snapping out of his daze.
The medical team immediately resumed their work, this time moving with much greater urgency.
Then the patient spoke again.
Raj's voice was far weaker now, but it still carried that same uncanny clarity that had emerged only moments earlier.
"I guess they were right..." Raj murmured. "I am dying in a hospital..."
"Gnayash!" the head doctor almost screamed.
"Alone and misera—"
Raj's voice suddenly stopped.
The steady beeping of the machines changed.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Then—
BEEEEEEEEEP.
The flat line continued.
The medical team kept moving for several moments, desperately attempting to revive him.
Then, one by one, they stopped. Silence settled over the room.
"He's dead," someone finally said.
A pause.
"Time of death: 16:31."
-----------------
Kingdom of Valangar
Today was an important day for the Kingdom of Valangar.
The first child of its current ruler, Raja Indra Deva Varma, had been born—a baby boy and the first heir to the throne.
The news had quickly spread from the Royal Palace throughout Vala, the capital of Valangar, and the city had erupted into celebration. Bells rang through the streets, people gathered in the markets and squares, and the news was carried from one household to another.
Of course, not everyone celebrated.
There were those already calculating what the birth meant for the kingdom, nobles considering its political implications, and others who were displeased for their own reasons.
But for most of Vala, the birth of a royal heir was a reason for happiness.
Royal Palace.
Raja Indra waited outside the chamber where his first wife was giving birth, pacing back and forth across the corridor.
He had been waiting for what felt like an eternity.
Then, at last, the door opened.
A dasi stepped out, carrying a small child in her arms.
She approached him and carefully placed the newborn into his hands.
Indra looked down at his son.
The baby was not crying much, which concerned him slightly, but the thought quickly faded as he looked into the child's face. Tiny arms moved restlessly, and the infant's eyes remained fixed upon his own.
For a moment, Indra simply stared.
It was almost as though the child were looking at him. But Indra finally lifted his gaze towards the dasi, waiting.
She lowered her head.
"We couldn't save her," she said softly, her voice barely audible.
Indra said nothing, only nodded once.
Then, still holding his firstborn in his arms, he turned towards the open sky beyond the palace.
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
He had prepared himself for this possibility. He had known that childbirth would take his wife from him.
Yet knowing that had done nothing to lessen the pain.
He looked down at the son she had left behind.
And all he could say was,
"Thank you."
-----
MC's POV
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!
I screamed.
Or at least, I tried to.
What came out was nothing more than a loud, pathetic baby noise.
What the hell?!
I tried to move my arms, but they barely responded. A cloth was wrapped around me, restricting my movements, and someone was holding me as well.
Did I die?
Or am I in some kind of weird coma?
I tried to look around.
And that was when things became even more confusing.
I could see.
Not clearly enough to make out every detail, but enough to look around.
If I'm in a coma, then what the hell is this?
And how the fuck can I, as a baby, see this well?
Thoughts kept racing through my mind as memories slowly began settling into place.
None of it made sense.
I felt as though I was being held in someone's arms. I could move my eyes and look around, and eventually I found myself staring at the face of a man.
A man who seemed to be...
Crying?
I stared at him for a few moments. Then I went back in to think a bit more.
Okay. Think.
I'm either in a coma, or...
I hesitated.
I reincarnated?
The idea sounded completely ridiculous.
But then again, what the hell else was I supposed to call this?
No. Reincarnation doesn't make sense.
First off—
I stopped.
A horrifying thought suddenly occurred to me.
WAIT!! HOW THE FUCK CAN A LITERAL BABY HAVE THIS GOOD OF AN EYESIGHT AND HEARING?!
I froze.
Wait.
How the fuck am I even thinking all of this with a baby's brain?!
For the first time since waking up, I became completely still.
What the actual hell is happening to me?
---------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Hey welcome or welcome back if you are one of the regular readers.
This is the CH, re-written and you can expect the next few to also be re-written.
If you are new here read the AUTHOR's NOTE below to know what I am writing and why.
Also this story will be long, as in long with what it covers, even if in univerase only a few weeks or months have passed, as I tend to give more details and it gets out of hand.
Atlast, if you wanna know about the schedule and more please read the NOTICE [1/10/2026]