The world Vikram had known until now felt… incomplete.
Devraj stood near the window, his back facing the city lights, his voice calm but heavy with truth.
"This world," Devraj said, "is filled with people. Ordinary humans. Businessmen, workers, families. Everything looks normal on the surface."
He turned slowly, his sharp eyes locking onto Vikram.
"But every human being is born with a special power."
Vikram froze.
"Then why don't we see it?" he asked.
Devraj smiled faintly.
"Because for most humans, that power is asleep."
He explained that in the modern age, nearly all of humanity had lost access to their true strength. Their abilities were dormant—sealed deep within their bodies. Only a few people still walked with their powers awakened.
"The people of the Underworld," Devraj continued, "are different. Their powers never slept."
The Scientist's Death
Devraj's expression darkened.
"Recently, a scientist was murdered."
Vikram's breath caught.
"That scientist was researching something dangerous," Devraj said. "A method to awaken human powers easily. Not slowly… not naturally… but forcibly."
The research was stolen.
"And it wasn't just about awakening," Devraj added. "It contained theories capable of turning humans into weapons."
That was when Vikram understood—this wasn't an accident.
This was a war waiting to happen.
Clans of the Underworld
"The Underworld," Devraj said, "is ruled by clans. Small ones. Large ones. Some ancient. Some new."
Each clan possessed different abilities—strength, speed, perception, elemental powers, forbidden techniques.
"But the strongest clans," Devraj said, "pass their power through bloodlines. Generation after generation."
Vikram's heart pounded.
"That includes your family."
Silence fell.
"Your grandfather," Devraj continued, "and your father… both belonged to a powerful clan."
Vikram clenched his fists.
"And my clan?" he asked quietly.
Devraj spoke the name with weight.
"Ashborne."
Vikram felt something stir deep inside him.
"My clan," Devraj added, "is called Ravenfall."
On the surface, Devraj was known as one of the richest businessmen in the world—a man who controlled industries, companies, and markets.
"But beneath that," Devraj said, "I am a member of a powerful clan."
The Sealed Demon
Devraj's voice dropped.
"When you were born… a powerful demon-type energy was sealed inside your body."
Vikram's eyes widened.
"That seal wasn't meant for you alone," Devraj said. "Your clan has contained that entity since the medieval era—moving it from host to host."
The seal had weakened.
"And when it was sealed inside you," Devraj continued, "your own power was sealed with it."
If not for that mistake, Vikram's power would have awakened at birth.
Devraj glanced at the locket around Vikram's neck.
"That locket… will unlock your power."
He paused.
"Though neither you nor I yet understand what it truly is."
The Twelve Clans
Devraj revealed that the Underworld was balanced by Twelve Major Clans—each powerful enough to shift the fate of cities.
They ran missions. Protected secrets. Eliminated threats.
"But we've lost many people recently," Devraj said. "That's why I need you."
Vikram shook his head.
"I'm weak. I don't even have powers."
Devraj stepped closer.
"You want revenge," he said. "And I can make you strong."
The Secret Training
Devraj spoke of a hidden school—a place no normal human could ever find.
Training there followed four stages:
The Gym Arena – No powers. Only physical strength, combat, endurance.
Survivor Island – Where power awakens through survival.
Technique Training – Learning to control awakened abilities.
Full Awakening – A stage that takes others six months… sometimes two years.
"If you survive," Devraj said, "you'll become something else entirely."
The Gym Arena
The gym was underground. Closed. Suffocating.
Blood stained the floor.
Men trained like beasts.
Fists collided. Bones cracked.
Vikram was the weakest there—the newest.
No one respected him.
They made him clean. Carry equipment. Run errands.
But Vikram watched.
He observed their footwork. Their punches. Their breathing.
At night, he trained alone.
Push-ups. Squats. Strikes into empty air.
Devraj watched everything through CCTV.
Raj
Two weeks later, an accident happened.
Vikram spilled juice on a man named Raj.
Raj attacked.
Vikram lost badly.
That night, Devraj arrived.
He fought Vikram personally—teaching him movement, balance, survival instincts.
"You're stronger than you think," Devraj said. "You could've beaten him."
"I don't want enemies," Vikram replied.
Change
Two more weeks passed.
Vikram trained harder than ever.
His body changed.
His eyes sharpened.
The men who once ignored him now respected him.
One month later—
Devraj returned.
"It's time," he said.
THE TOURNAMENT
The tournament began in silence.
A small underground arena.
Crowded. Tight. Suffocating.
Fighters stood shoulder to shoulder, leaving barely any space to move. Every punch felt heavier. Every kick riskier.
But Vikram was different.
Weeks of observation had paid off.
As the signal was given, chaos exploded.
Fists flew. Bodies collided.
Vikram moved.
A sharp jab.
A clean hook.
A perfectly timed kick.
He didn't rely on brute strength—he relied on technique.
One by one, fighters fell.
His movements were precise, controlled, almost mechanical. Martial arts. Boxing. Taekwondo. Everything he had learned through observation and repetition now flowed naturally.
Within minutes—
Only two fighters remained.
Vikram.
Raj.
The arena fell silent.
Vikram vs Raj
Raj charged like a beast.
Punches. Elbows. Raw aggression.
Vikram countered with footwork and speed.
High kick.
Low sweep.
Straight punch to the jaw.
Raj staggered—but refused to fall.
With a roar, Raj rushed forward and suddenly wrapped his arms around Vikram from behind, locking his throat.
Vikram gasped.
His vision blurred.
From the sidelines, Ronny spoke urgently.
"Devraj… we should stop this. He's going to die."
Devraj didn't move.
"Let it continue."
The Turning Point
Just as Vikram's strength began to fade—
He moved.
In a sudden burst, he broke free.
A spinning Taekwondo kickexploded against Raj's face.
One strike.
Raj collapsed.
Silence.
Then—
Cheers erupted.
"Vikram won!"
"He won!"
Vikram stood there, breathing heavily, unaware that Devraj and Ronny were watching everything.
Devraj turned away calmly.
"I'll pick him up tomorrow morning."
Jealousy
Raj watched from the shadows.
He had trained longer.
He had fought harder.
Yet he lost.
That night, anger consumed him.
He slipped something into Vikram's milk.
A drug.
When Vikram drank it and lay down to sleep, darkness swallowed him.
Raj entered the room.
Punch after punch rained down.
Vikram couldn't fight back.
He was dying.
But before it ended—
Gym members burst in.
Raj was dragged away.
Vikram was rushed to the hospital.
Judgment
Raj was taken to another place.
A towering, luxurious building.
Inside a silent room—
Devraj sat calmly.
Ronny stood beside him.
Raj fell to his knees.
"I beg you… please forgive me. I lost control."
Devraj rose slowly.
"I will spare your life."
Hope flashed in Raj's eyes.
"Choose," Devraj said coldly.
"An eye. A hand. Or a leg."
Raj froze.
"What… what does that mean?"
Devraj unsheathed a katana.
"If you don't choose," he said, "I will."
Raj screamed.
Begged.
Cried.
Devraj moved.
A moment later—
Raj screamed in pain.
His hand was gone.
Devraj leaned closer.
"This is your final warning. If you ever contact anyone from that gym again… you die."
Devraj walked away.
Ronny remained standing.
Expressionless.