The sun was high and bright by the time Parth returned to the archery range on Friday morning. The monsoon clouds of the previous days had broken, and the world felt freshly washed and sharp-edged. The air of the academy was filled with the familiar sounds—the crisp thwack of arrows hitting targets, the low murmur of conversation, the rhythmic squeak of bowstrings. It was a world of disciplined normalcy, but for Parth, everything had changed.
He hadn't told Coach Singh the details of what happened at sunrise, and the coach hadn't asked. He had simply watched Parth that morning with a knowing, cautious gaze.
In a quiet moment between practice sets, Parth's mind drifted back to the pre-dawn mist at Ram Kund. He replayed the moment he had followed the Pandit's instructions, wading a few steps into the shockingly cold water of the Godavari. He had closed his eyes, silenced the cacophony of his modern doubts, and asked the silent, golden warrior within the one question.
"What is my duty now?"
The answer had not come in words. It had come as a torrent of images, a divine revelation that seared itself onto his soul.
First, the glowing, insidious grid of the CHAKRAVYUH system, spreading like a luminous poison across a map of the world. Then, Suyodh Mehra's smiling face, his eyes burning with an ancient, insatiable envy that transcended time. The vision then shifted to glimpses of modern suffering—an old farmer weeping as a drone hovered over his foreclosed land, a young woman's face on a screen being flagged by an algorithm for "dissent," the hollowed-out eyes of people trapped in a system of perfect, suffocating control.
The final image was the clearest. His own hands, steady and sure, nocking a celestial arrow onto the divine bow, the Gāndīva. The bowstring was pulled taut, and the glowing arrow was aimed not at a man, but at the cold, monolithic logo of Hastina Corp.
He had stumbled back out of the water, gasping, the weight of a forgotten responsibility settling onto his shoulders like a physical mantle. It wasn't a burden of confusion anymore. It was a burden of purpose.
"Parth! You're up."
Coach Singh's voice pulled him back to the present. He nodded, stepping up to the shooting line. He picked up his Hoyt bow, its carbon-fibre frame feeling mundane and light compared to the memory of the Gāndīva. He nocked an arrow, his movements fluid and economical.
But as he drew the string back, something inside him shifted. The irritation was gone. The confusion was gone. All that remained was a cold, pure, unyielding focus. He looked at the distant target, the small circle of gold 70 meters away. In his mind's eye, he superimposed the Hastina Corp logo over it. He saw Suyodh's smiling face in its center.
He breathed out. The world fell silent. His anchor point was perfect. The power he drew upon felt deeper now, coming not just from his muscles, but from the core of his being, from the soul that had answered him at the river.
He released.
The arrow did not just fly. It was an extension of his will, a physical manifestation of his newfound purpose. It crossed the distance in a blur and struck the target with a sound that was different from all the others—a deep, authoritative THUD that made several other archers pause and look.
Through the spotting scope, Coach Singh's breath hitched. Parth's arrow had struck the exact dead center of the target. But more than that, it had pierced through the nock of the arrow he had shot in the previous round, splitting the carbon-fibre shaft perfectly in two in a "Robin Hood" shot of impossible precision.
It was a shot beyond skill. It was a statement.
Coach Singh looked at Parth, who was calmly lowering his bow. The boy's aura, once a "kingly presence," had sharpened into something far more formidable. He now had the unshakeable stillness of a true warrior. The visit to the Pandit hadn't just healed him; it had awakened him.
Just then, a news alert pinged on the common room television, the volume turned up by an excited teammate.
"We have breaking news," the anchor announced. "In a landmark move for public safety and 'Smart City' initiatives, Hastina Corp has announced the first official rollout of its CHAKRAVYUH network. The pilot program, a 'civic gift' from CEO Suyodh Mehra, will be implemented immediately... right here in Nashik."
A chill went through the room. The talk of algorithms and security now felt real, immediate.
Parth turned his gaze from the target to the television screen. He saw images of new, sleek surveillance cameras being installed on poles in the city, even near the familiar old ghats. The battlefield was no longer a distant memory. The enemy was no longer an abstract corporate entity.
The war had just arrived at his doorstep.