Chapter 1: The Last Tear
In a room with barely any light, where only the moon's glow slipped through the window, a boy named Aarav sat curled in a corner. Shadows covered most of his body, but the brutal marks—cuts, bruises, dried blood—were clearly visible.
He sat trembling, not from fear, but from pain. A pain so sharp, he couldn't breathe properly. Each breath made it worse. His nose was broken, blood crusted around it. His arms and legs were bent at angles no one's should be. He was hurt badly—yet he didn't cry.
No tears came.
He didn't want to cry.
He clenched his teeth, trying to hold it all in.
Then—
Creak.
The wooden door slowly opened.
A thin beam of yellow light cut into the room. As the door widened, the light grew, stretching across the floor.
Footsteps. Quick. Uneven.
A woman rushed inside. Her purple hair was messy, her face full of panic and emotion. She turned on the light and frantically searched the room—until her eyes froze on one corner.
"Aarav...?" she whispered. Her voice was faint, trembling. It was a question, a cry, a plea.
Aarav looked up and saw her.
And his heart sank deeper.
He didn't want to see her like this. Not when he was broken. Not like this. He looked away, trying not to meet her eyes. If he did, he knew he'd lose control.
But he couldn't stop it.
One tear escaped.
Then another.
And suddenly it was like a dam had broken.
His sobs filled the room.
Tears soaked his shirt. He cried harder than he ever had before.
After a while, he tried to stop himself. He didn't want to appear weak—especially not in front of his mother. He wiped his face and tried to stand, but his body collapsed. His legs trembled. His fingers shook. His whole body screamed in pain.
Veluna rushed to him. She tried to help, but when her hand touched his wrist—
"Aahhh!" Aarav screamed.
"I… I'm sorry, my son," she whispered, tears falling onto him.
Aarav tried to raise his hand to wipe her tears, but he couldn't. Even that simple motion was too painful.
He wasn't crying from the pain.
He was crying because…
He couldn't wipe his mother's tears.
Silence fell.
Then, in a quiet voice:
"Why...? Why do they always bully me, Mom?"
His voice was broken. Raw.
"Why can't they just leave me alone…?"
Veluna's face hardened. Her voice was soft, but serious.
"Because, Aarav… we're weak. This world belongs to the strong. The strong make the rules. The weak follow them—whether they want to or not. If you want the world to stop hurting you, then you need to become strong. So strong that no one dares to touch you."
She helped him onto the bed and quietly left the room.
Aarav lay there, staring at the ceiling. He didn't speak, but inside his mind, a storm raged.
Because he was weak.
A few hours later
The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the rooftops as Aarav returned from the market. He held a small paper bag of groceries tightly against his chest. He chose a back alley—hoping it would help him avoid trouble.
But fate had other plans.
Three figures stepped out of the shadows.
They looked at Aarav like hunters spotting prey.
He froze. Fear knotted his stomach.
He recognized them instantly—Raghu, Mihir, and Vasu.
Raghu grinned. His short hair, cold eyes, and smug face said everything.
"Why...?" Aarav stammered. "Why do you always do this? I've done nothing... please..."
Raghu laughed. "Exactly. You don't fight back. That's why it's fun."
Mihir smirked. "We love watching you beg. It's pathetic."
Before Aarav could react, Raghu's fist hit his stomach hard. He collapsed, gasping for air. The groceries spilled. Eggs cracked, leaking onto the dirty alley.
"Please... stop..." Aarav begged, curling up in pain.
But they didn't.
They kicked. Hit. Mocked.
They didn't stop until they were tired.
Bloodied, Aarav lay there—broken.
Back in the present
The memory made him cough up blood. His chest burned. His vision blurred. He felt himself slipping.
He wasn't sad about the pain.
He was sad because he couldn't keep a promise.
A promise to his father:
"Take care of your mother, Aarav. She's strong, but she needs you. You're all she has now."
He cried again.
"I failed you, Father... I failed..."
His breath grew weaker. His mind drifted to memories—his mother's stories, her laughter, her kindness.
Then, darkness.
Unknown Realm
Silence. Then a hum—low and strange.
Aarav floated. Weightless. Disconnected.
He couldn't move or speak. Only hear and see.
"He has arrived," said a deep voice.
Another followed: "He died in despair. But the fire in his soul still burns."
A third voice added, ancient and powerful:
"Shall we give him… another chance?"
"No," the second voice replied coldly. "He was too pure. We need someone darker. A stronger soul. One who will rule."
Then a figure appeared. His form sharp. His eyes dark.
"I accept," the new soul said. "Give me his body. I will bring results."
Aarav wanted to scream—No! I want another chance! I want to see my mother againChapter 1: The Last Tear
In a room with barely any light, where only the moon's glow slipped through the window, a boy named Aarav sat curled in a corner. Shadows covered most of his body, but the brutal marks—cuts, bruises, dried blood—were clearly visible.
He sat trembling, not from fear, but from pain. A pain so sharp, he couldn't breathe properly. Each breath made it worse. His nose was broken, blood crusted around it. His arms and legs were bent at angles no one's should be. He was hurt badly—yet he didn't cry.
No tears came.
He didn't want to cry.
He clenched his teeth, trying to hold it all in.
Then—
Creak.
The wooden door slowly opened.
A thin beam of yellow light cut into the room. As the door widened, the light grew, stretching across the floor.
Footsteps. Quick. Uneven.
A woman rushed inside. Her purple hair was messy, her face full of panic and emotion. She turned on the light and frantically searched the room—until her eyes froze on one corner.
"Aarav...?" she whispered. Her voice was faint, trembling. It was a question, a cry, a plea.
Aarav looked up and saw her.
And his heart sank deeper.
He didn't want to see her like this. Not when he was broken. Not like this. He looked away, trying not to meet her eyes. If he did, he knew he'd lose control.
But he couldn't stop it.
One tear escaped.
Then another.
And suddenly it was like a dam had broken.
His sobs filled the room.
Tears soaked his shirt. He cried harder than he ever had before.
After a while, he tried to stop himself. He didn't want to appear weak—especially not in front of his mother. He wiped his face and tried to stand, but his body collapsed. His legs trembled. His fingers shook. His whole body screamed in pain.
Veluna rushed to him. She tried to help, but when her hand touched his wrist—
"Aahhh!" Aarav screamed.
"I… I'm sorry, my son," she whispered, tears falling onto him.
Aarav tried to raise his hand to wipe her tears, but he couldn't. Even that simple motion was too painful.
He wasn't crying from the pain.
He was crying because…
He couldn't wipe his mother's tears.
Silence fell.
Then, in a quiet voice:
"Why...? Why do they always bully me, Mom?"
His voice was broken. Raw.
"Why can't they just leave me alone…?"
Veluna's face hardened. Her voice was soft, but serious.
"Because, Aarav… we're weak. This world belongs to the strong. The strong make the rules. The weak follow them—whether they want to or not. If you want the world to stop hurting you, then you need to become strong. So strong that no one dares to touch you."
She helped him onto the bed and quietly left the room.
Aarav lay there, staring at the ceiling. He didn't speak, but inside his mind, a storm raged.
Because he was weak.
A few hours later
The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the rooftops as Aarav returned from the market. He held a small paper bag of groceries tightly against his chest. He chose a back alley—hoping it would help him avoid trouble.
But fate had other plans.
Three figures stepped out of the shadows.
They looked at Aarav like hunters spotting prey.
He froze. Fear knotted his stomach.
He recognized them instantly—Raghu, Mihir, and Vasu.
Raghu grinned. His short hair, cold eyes, and smug face said everything.
"Why...?" Aarav stammered. "Why do you always do this? I've done nothing... please..."
Raghu laughed. "Exactly. You don't fight back. That's why it's fun."
Mihir smirked. "We love watching you beg. It's pathetic."
Before Aarav could react, Raghu's fist hit his stomach hard. He collapsed, gasping for air. The groceries spilled. Eggs cracked, leaking onto the dirty alley.
"Please... stop..." Aarav begged, curling up in pain.
But they didn't.
They kicked. Hit. Mocked.
They didn't stop until they were tired.
Bloodied, Aarav lay there—broken.
Back in the present
The memory made him cough up blood. His chest burned. His vision blurred. He felt himself slipping.
He wasn't sad about the pain.
He was sad because he couldn't keep a promise.
A promise to his father:
"Take care of your mother, Aarav. She's strong, but she needs you. You're all she has now."
He cried again.
"I failed you, Father... I failed..."
His breath grew weaker. His mind drifted to memories—his mother's stories, her laughter, her kindness.
Then, darkness.
Unknown Realm
Silence. Then a hum—low and strange.
Aarav floated. Weightless. Disconnected.
He couldn't move or speak. Only hear and see.
"He has arrived," said a deep voice.
Another followed: "He died in despair. But the fire in his soul still burns."
A third voice added, ancient and powerful:
"Shall we give him… another chance?"
"No," the second voice replied coldly. "He was too pure. We need someone darker. A stronger soul. One who will rule."
Then a figure appeared. His form sharp. His eyes dark.
"I accept," the new soul said. "Give me his body. I will bring results."
Aarav wanted to scream—No! I want another chance! I want to see my mother again!
But he couldn't speak.
His body glowed, broke apart, and vanished.
Moments later, power surged. Dark symbols formed. Energy crackled.
With one heartbeat…
A new ruler was born.
formed. Energy crackled.
With one heartbeat…
A new ruler was born.