For the next month Shiva trained. He trained as hard as he could while maintaining his image, studies, exercise and marks. One may wonder why would someone like Shiva who is fun oriented train so much, even though he won't make to much progress in a month, why would he try so hard? The answer is simple.... Love... Love for his family and their safety.
There were times he felt like dying of hunger. He was used to eating a lot as he loses weight if he doesn't eat to much due to his fast metabolism. He couldn't handle eating nothing for two whole days. It felt like his stomach was twisting like crazy. He barely had energy to keep going. The only thing that held him together at times was the insane amount of caffeine he used. He repeatedly felt dizziness and shaking violently every now and then. But he held on. To lose the 10% of the body fat he had. He was about 6'2, 85 kg and 20% body fat. He tried his best to change the fat percentage to 10% . He not only lost fat, gained muscles, gained fighting knowledge while practicing different moves in different scenarios. After a month he changed. He wasn't excessively muscular. But, his build and physique had gotten way better. He was stronger, faster, smarter and had even more reaction time.
IT WAS NOW TIME FOR THE MEETING WITH ARTHUR!!!
Before heading out Shiva had a few thoughts. Concerning thoughts, that is.
Shiva: I have it my best but what if I can't handle this, what if I am not strong enough or cold enough. What if I mess up? What if I can't maintain my act, what if he saw through my acting... Fuck it..... Let make the cold expression and get ready.
Shiva adjusted his hoodie, pulled the sleeves down to hide the bruises on his forearms, and walked into the dim café where they'd agreed to meet.
It was empty. Dead silent—except for the hum of an old fan spinning lazily above.
And then... he saw him.
Arthur.
He sat alone at the corner table, sipping black coffee like it was blood. There was something off about the way he moved—like he wasn't just waiting. He was hunting.
Sharp eyes locked onto Shiva the moment he stepped in. A slow, deliberate smile spread across Arthus' face. It wasn't warm. It wasn't cold either. It was something else. Something that crawled under your skin.
"Shiva," he said, voice smooth as silk but laced with poison. "You look... different."
Shiva replied in a cold yet calm voice, " What would you know, about me? "
Arthur's smile didn't widen, but it deepened—like he'd just confirmed something he already suspected.
Arthur: "Fair enough. You're right. I don't know you."
He stood, slowly, finishing his coffee in one long sip. "But you'll have to show me, won't you? Whether you're ready or not. Because there are a few lives... depending on it."
Shiva didn't respond. His expression remained cold, unreadable, but his heart was racing.
Lives? He didn't mention anything about others. So this is a test that could get people killed. Fantastic.
Arthur slid past him like a shadow, casually gesturing toward the door.
Arthur: "Let's take a little drive."
---
Car Ride — Tension-Filled Silence
The car ride was suffocating.
Shiva sat stiff, arms folded, eyes darting between the road and Arthur's lazy one-handed grip on the steering wheel. It was almost comical how calm he looked—half-asleep, even. But Shiva knew better. With people like him, calm meant danger.
Arthur hummed faintly along to a song playing on the radio. It was something old. Too cheerful for the atmosphere.
Arthur (absentmindedly): "Ever think about how soundproof walls are humanity's most honest invention?"
Shiva stayed silent.
He's watching for a reaction. No thanks. Not giving him one.
Arthur smiled again, just faintly. "You could scream your soul out in one of those rooms and the world wouldn't know. Feels... honest, doesn't it?"
Shiva (flatly): "I've lived most of my life in rooms like that."
Arthur glanced at him briefly, his eyes unreadable.
No comment. Just a nod.
He knows what I meant. But he won't touch it. Not yet. This guy plays long games.
---
The Building – Crowded Outside, Silent Inside
They pulled up to a large building in a busy district—offices, cafes, people everywhere. A place you'd never suspect. Shiva noticed how cleverly chosen the location was. The perfect cover.
Inside, it was a different world. Clean halls, dim lights, white walls. No sound.
Each step echoed like they were walking into a grave.
Shiva's thoughts:
Every room here… soundproofed. You could kill someone, and no one would notice. That's the point, isn't it? Keep it close to the public. Hide in plain sight.
Arthur didn't speak. He seemed lighter now, even humming again under his breath.
Like they were going to a dinner party instead of an "entrance test."
They stopped in front of a steel-reinforced door. Arthur pressed his palm against a scanner. The lock clicked.
He pushed it open.
Inside – The Interview Room
The room was cold and clinical—walls lined with gray foam, a long table in the middle. Three people sat on the other side. They didn't rise when Shiva entered. Just watched.
Faces... familiar.
They were in that group chat.
Fake names. Cryptic messages. But now they were real. Flesh and blood.
One was a man with silver rings on every finger, his smile too white to be natural.
Another, a woman with a notebook she hadn't stopped scribbling in since Shiva entered.
The third... just stared. No blink. No movement. Like a statue.
Arthur (cheerful):
"Well then, everyone. This is the one I told you about."
He glanced at Shiva with a grin. "Impressive, isn't he? Let's see if he survives the introduction."
He gestured toward the center chair.
"Take a seat, Shiva. Your test starts now."
Shiva stepped forward, heartbeat steady but intense.
No fear. Not now. These people smell it. They feed on it.
He sat down, making no sound, keeping his expression perfectly still.
Inside, his thoughts raced.
Stay calm. Every word, every breath... calculated. If this is a game, I don't plan to lose.
The room darkened. The lights dimmed until only the screen in front of Shiva glowed. He didn't ask what the test was. He didn't need to. Arthur's excitement already said enough.
Arthur (grinning):
"Let's begin with the first test, shall we?
Mental fortitude. No pens. No puzzles. Just… truth."
A projector came to life. The video began.
At first, it was a man tied to a chair. Screaming.
The screams were sharp, not just of pain—but of hopelessness. He pleaded, cried, then begged to die. His limbs were broken methodically. Tools were used. Bones exposed. The sound of skin splitting was too real.
The scenes grew worse.
Women, children, men—all locked in rooms where suffering was an art form. Some tried clawing at their throats. Some tried smashing their skulls into walls. Some succeeded. Most failed.
And it didn't stop.
Every time Shiva thought it couldn't get worse, it did.
Eyes melting. Jaws torn open. Fire. Acid. Slow, rhythmic mutilation.
It wasn't just gore—it was despair, personalized and intimate.
Shiva's thoughts:
Any normal person would throw up. No—tear their own eyes out. Anything to make it stop.
But Shiva didn't look away.
At first, his face was blank. Focused. Then—
A twitch in the corner of his lips.
A smile.
Small. Then wider.
Then—laughter.
It started low, almost like a cough. But it grew. Unstoppable. Hollow. Echoing.
Laughter. In that room. With those images. Shiva laughed.
Not because it was funny.
But because it was the only thing left.
Shiva (thinking):
You want me to break.
You want to see pain, tears, horror.
But I won't give you the satisfaction.
If you want madness—fine. I'll give you a taste.
The three judges didn't react much. But something shifted. Their stillness cracked—barely. A blink too long. A breath too deep. Arthur, though, looked thrilled.
The screen faded to black after two whole hours.
No one spoke.
Shiva's smile slowly faded. But not completely.
He sat still. Pale, exhausted—but unshaken.
Arthur (clapping once):
"Well… that was deliciously unsettling.
Let's move on to Test Two: Determination."
The cold lights flickered overhead as Shiva stepped into the next room. This one was colder, smaller. The kind of cold that wasn't just temperature—it was intentional. Designed to feel like a cage.
Arthur clapped his hands once, voice bright, too cheerful for the setting.
Arthur:
"Ahh… now this test—this is special."
He motioned toward a chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room.
Arthur:
"Shiva, meet your final test: Determination."
The door behind the chair creaked open.
Two masked men dragged someone in—a limp figure, bruised and gagged, arms zip-tied behind his back. His breathing was panicked, shallow. The second he was shoved under the light, Shiva's eyes widened a fraction. Just a fraction.
Arthur noticed.
The man in the chair looked up, blood trickling from his nose. Swollen lip. But his eyes… those eyes held something terrifying.
Recognition.
Fear.
Pain.
…But a spark of hope.
Arthur chuckled softly.
Arthur (leaning in toward Shiva, whispering like a child sharing a secret):
"Isn't this the guy… whose arm you broke? That 'accident' you still feel guilty about?"
"What was his name… right, Rishaan, wasn't it? The poor bastard who used to follow you around like a puppy in school?"
He stepped away, arms spread like a magician revealing his grand trick.
Arthur (gleeful):
"Well, congratulations. Your test is simple—torture him.
In the most painful way you know.
No shortcuts. No mercy.
We'll be watching."
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
Rishaan's eyes widened even more as Arthur said it. He tried to speak—words muffled by the gag. He squirmed, shook, terrified.
But the moment his eyes met Shiva's, everything changed.
He stilled.
Maybe he believed Shiva wouldn't do it. Maybe he remembered the boy who once apologized to him five times for that injury. Maybe… there was still hope.
Shiva took a step forward.
He looked straight into Rishaan's soul.
No sound. No reaction.
Not yet.
Just a blank stare.
The kind that doesn't judge, doesn't feel, doesn't even exist.
Shiva (thinking):
Why him…?
Why this?
I can't back out now.
They'll kill him anyway. Or worse.
But he didn't move.
Not yet.
He just stared.
Into the eyes of a boy who once trusted him.
Into the eyes of someone who still did.
A faint tremble formed in Shiva's clenched fists. He didn't blink. Not once.
The chapter ends here.
Frozen.
With that one moment stretched for eternity—
A blank stare… into dying hope.