Echoes of Victory
The tournament ground was still buzzing with excitement. As Rivet walked off the stage, the glinting gold medal resting proudly around his neck, he was immediately surrounded by classmates, students, juniors, even some seniors—all congratulating him, clapping him on the back, calling out his name with admiration.
"Bro, you're insane!"
"Rivet, you nailed it!"
"I knew you had something special!"
Rivet, still catching his breath, smiled. A strange warmth filled his chest. Just weeks ago, no one even knew his name. Now... he was the name on everyone's lips. He looked around at the crowd, feeling an odd mix of disbelief and gratitude.
But amid the cheers, Rivet's eyes wandered to the large scoreboard still lit up on the field. Names and positions glowed brightly—his at the top. Keshav at second. Veer at third. One by one, he scanned the list of top 10… and then further down, where the rest of the Stage 2 qualifiers had once been.
His eyes paused.
Something was missing.
Nakul Verma… where was his name?
Rivet frowned slightly.
That kid had been on his team during the group stage. He was the weakest, but he had tried—really tried.
Just then, Rivet spotted Arnav Bhagat walking by and called out, "Arnav! Hey!"
Arnav turned and walked over, grinning. "Yo champ, congratulations! You deserve it."
"Thanks, man," Rivet nodded, then quickly asked, "Nakul… do you know what happened to him? His name's not on the board."
Arnav's smile faded. "Yeah… he got injured during the first part of Stage 3. It wasn't serious, but enough that the judges told him to pull out. He left before the finals started."
Rivet's throat tightened. "Oh… that sucks."
"Yeah," Arnav nodded. "But hey, you did great. And I'm sure he'd be proud to see one of his teammates on top."
Rivet smiled faintly, but inside, a quiet guilt stirred.
Later that evening, Rivet walked into his house, the medal tucked inside his bag. The moment he entered, his mother came rushing forward, eyes filled with tears.
"Beta…" she gasped, hugging him tightly. "Tumne kar dikhaya…"
His father stood silently, arms crossed, but his proud smile said more than words ever could. He walked over and gently placed a hand on Rivet's shoulder.
"We always believed in you," he said, voice low and proud.
Rivet's heart swelled. He looked at them—his parents, who had sacrificed so much, who had carried the weight of financial strain without ever letting it crush their spirit.
And now, because of this win… they wouldn't have to pay his full fees this year.
That thought alone made Rivet feel like he had truly won something much bigger than a medal.
They all sat down for dinner, a rare joy filling the small dining space. Laughter, memories, and relief spilled through the air. Rivet's mother gently ruffled his hair, and for the first time in a long while, he saw tears not of pain or pressure—but of pride.
That night, Rivet lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day spun slowly in his mind—every face, every cheer, every moment of glory.
Sleep claimed him.
And with it… came the dream.
The world was still—dark, ancient, echoing with whispers.
And once again, that towering shadow appeared.
No weapons.
No battle cries.
Just presence.
This time, the figure didn't speak much. Just walked a few steps closer, its outline more defined than ever.
And then, in a voice that felt like thunder wrapped in calm, it said—
"It has begun… Sharva."
Rivet jolted awake, a cold sweat running down his spine.
Something had begun.
Something far beyond tournaments… far beyond medals.
The true story was only just unfolding.
End of Chapter 15