The rain continued to fall, a steady hum against the warehouse roof.
While the others slept, Vikram stood in the center of the dark training floor. He closed his eyes, performing the Pranayama, breathing in the cold air.
He could feel the dark matter in the atmosphere. Ever since he had reached Band IV, his connection to the Chaya had grown stronger. He could sense the invisible grid lines stretching across the city, pulsing like a web of cold veins.
He threw a jab, his fist vanishing into the darkness.
He didn't just fold the shadow around himself; he felt the space bend. He moved, appearing ten feet away in a flash of cold air. His movement was fluid, silent, and natural.
"You're getting faster," Mr. Desai's voice came from the shadows. The old man was sitting on a crate, wrapped in a blanket.
"I need to be," Vikram said, stopping his training. "Javed is still stronger. If he blocks me at the Gateway, I won't have time to reach the Core."
"Do not fight him with strength, Vikram," Desai advised. "Use your father's boxing. Boxers don't just hit; they dodge, they slip, they use their opponent's weight against them. The Chaya is the same. Do not fight the shadow. Let it flow through you."
Vikram looked at his hands, feeling the bio-electric Prana humming beneath his skin. "I understand."