*June 11, 1986, Mumbai, India*
Three months had blurred into a whirlwind of calculated conquests for Raj Mehra, his empire expanding like a wildfire fueled by the ROI system's unerring precision. From the sunlit heights of his Bandra villa to the shadowed underbelly of Mumbai's criminal world, Raj had woven a web of power that few could fathom. His 40-crore fortune had swelled further through relentless ventures, but it was the subtle shifts in control—over men, markets, and minds—that marked his true ascent. The underworld's self-inflicted wounds from the D-Company and Shetty gang war had created fertile ground for his schemes, and Raj had harvested it all with ruthless efficiency.
First and foremost was *Asur*, the secret organization he'd birthed from the ashes of gang rivalries. Initially, its 20 members—ex-military recruits like Vikram and Ramesh, trained under Arjun Das—were loyal in deed but not in soul, their allegiances forged by shared purpose rather than unbreakable chains. Raj knew loyalty was fragile; a single betrayal could unravel everything. During a quiet evening in his villa, as the sun set over the Arabian Sea, Raj had delved into the system's shop once more. His eyes lit up at a new item: [*Hyper Nano Loyalty Chip*]—a microscopic device that embedded loyalty at a neural level, enabling mental communication and absolute obedience to Raj. The cost was negligible for his coffers, and he purchased it instantly.
A faint shimmer appeared in his palm: a tiny, iridescent chip, no larger than a grain of sand. "System," Raj asked, turning it over in the fading light, "how does this work? Will it harm them?"
[*Host, the Hyper Nano Loyalty Chip integrates painlessly via skin contact, such as a handshake. It migrates to the brain over three days, rewriting neural pathways for unwavering loyalty to you. Additional functions: mental communication for orders, which the host will follow without question. It does not alter personality or free will beyond loyalty and obedience. The chip self-replicates, spreading to designated targets upon your command. No physical harm; undetectable by medical scans.*]
Raj's lips curled into a satisfied smile. *Perfect.* The next day, he summoned Arjun Das to his fourth-floor office in the Mehra Building. Arjun entered, his weathered face etched with the strain of recent raids, his tactical vest still dusted from a training session with Vikram and Ramesh. "Boss," Arjun said, shaking Raj's extended hand firmly, "the team's shaping up. Vikram's knife work is lethal; Ramesh blew a dummy safe in under a minute. But we need more gear—silencers, vests."
Raj gripped Arjun's hand a moment longer, the chip absorbing seamlessly into Arjun's skin without a trace. "Good work, Arjun. We'll discuss funding. For now, focus on loyalty drills—make sure no one wavers."
Arjun nodded, oblivious to the change. "Loyalty's earned, boss. But these men—they hate the underworld as much as I do. We'll hold."
Over the next three days, the chip worked its magic. Arjun's reports grew more devoted, his suggestions aligned perfectly with Raj's vision. By day three, Raj tested it mentally: *Arjun, report to my villa tonight. Bring Vikram and Ramesh.* The response echoed in his mind: [*Yes, boss. On it.*] That evening, as they shook hands in greeting, the chip replicated, embedding in Vikram and Ramesh. Within a month, it spread through *Asur*'s ranks—20 members now fully loyal, their minds bound to Raj's will. Future recruits would inherit the chip during initiation handshakes.
Raj reinforced it with instructions via mental commands: *No betrayal of me or *Asur*. No leaking information. Protect the organization at all costs.* The members complied without question, their loyalty absolute, like extensions of Raj's own body.
To empower *Asur* further, Raj turned to the system's shop again, acquiring [*2nd Gen Power Serum*]—a vial costing 1 lakh each, boosting agility, strength, and endurance by 5x, plus 100 years of additional lifespan. He ordered 20 doses, one per member. In a clandestine meeting at a remote warehouse, Arjun administered them under Raj's supervision.
"Drink this," Arjun instructed Vikram, handing him the glowing serum. "Boss says it'll make us unstoppable."
Vikram downed it, grimacing. "Tastes like metal. What's in it?"
Arjun shrugged, his loyalty to Raj unwavering. "Doesn't matter. Boss knows best." Within hours, the effects hit—Vikram shattered a concrete block with a punch, Ramesh outran a motorcycle in drills. "Boss... this is god-like," Arjun reported mentally to Raj. [*We're true *Asur* now. Ready for orders.*]
Raj's command was swift: *Loot black money from corrupted politicians and officials. Start with the list I provide—my-vetted targets.* Over three months, *Asur* raided 15 houses, netting 200 crore in cash, jewels, and documents. Each hit was flawless: a minister's Bandra bungalow yielding 15 crore hidden in walls, a bureaucrat's Delhi flat with 10 crore in suitcases. Arjun led most, his enhanced speed dodging guards, his strength snapping locks. "Boss, another clean sweep," he'd report mentally, the thrill evident. [*These corrupt dogs—bleeding them feels right.*]
Raj stashed his share, funneling portions into offshore accounts, his fortune swelling. The raids went undetected, blamed on internal leaks or rival politicians.
Amid this, *Mehra Book House* flourished. Raj's *Game of Thrones* (ASOIF) exploded, earning 3 crore worldwide, mostly from Europe where fantasy fans devoured its intricate plots. "Boss, sales are insane—50,000 in the first week alone," the marketing head reported. Other Indian-genre books performed decently: 50 lakhs total from Europe and India combined, with strong domestic appeal as the system predicted. Raj selected six new titles from writers, each vetted for profit: two historical epics, three romances, one mystery. Logos emblazoned on covers built brand loyalty, drawing more submissions.
*Mehra Construction* completed its initial three road tenders, earning handsome profits that Raj reinvested to scale—hiring 200 more workers, importing advanced machinery from Japan. Vishal Singh secured four new projects: two in Gujarat (highway expansions), one in Delhi (urban flyovers), and one in Maharashtra (rural links). "Sahab, with your technique, we're underbidding everyone by 10% and delivering 30% faster," Vishal said in a meeting. "Profits projected at 10 crore this year."
Raj nodded. "Push harder. India's infrastructure is mine to rebuild."
In films, *Maharana Pratap: The Legacy* wrapped shooting last week. Raj visited sets multiple times, using the system to refine scenes—adding dramatic battles or emotional monologues, boosting budget by 40 lakhs. Director Arjun Singh grumbled. "Sahab, these changes— they alter my vision," he protested during one visit.
Raj's gaze was unyielding. "Your vision needs edge. My vision says this boosts box office 20%. Trust me—or find another backer. Arjun i am not saying you are wrong but these changea will make movie better." Arjun relented, the film entering post-production for two months, slated for Maharana Pratap Jayanti on May 9, 1986. Other projects hummed along, finishing soon.
Raj acquired four regional newspapers for 60 lakhs, hiring nationalist talents via system vetting—editors pushing progressive stories, aligning with *The Bharat Front*'s influence.
In his fourth-floor office, Raj stood at the window, sea winds ruffling his hair. "Now, politics," he murmured. "A ground with no rules." *Bhartiya Party*—not for him to lead, but to puppeteer. He'd select 10 social workers dedicated to India's improvement, embed Nano Loyalty Chips via handshakes, ensuring their decision-making power bent to his will. The rest? Organic growth, influenced indirectly. His empire was complete—wealth, power, immortality. The horizon beckoned.