The cold corridor of the Mayapuri bunker stretched before Shivam, its walls humming softly with the life of the hidden base. He moved quietly, the weight of recent events pressing down on his shoulders like a stone. Ahead, the infirmary doors slid open with a whisper, and Shivam stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, sterile yet faintly warm — a refuge amidst chaos. His friends lay scattered across beds and cots, their bodies battered but healing. Dikshant, his arm in a sling, was propped up by pillows, wincing as he flexed his fingers. Aman lounged nearby, tossing a small ball between his hands, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. Naina sat upright, her sharp eyes flicking over a notebook filled with plans and sketches. Aanchal, restless as ever, paced slowly along the wall, arms folded tightly.
Shivam's presence pulled their attention. A flicker of smiles and tired greetings met him.
"Hey," Shivam said softly, pulling up a chair beside Dikshant.
"Look who decided to show up," Aman teased, bouncing the stress ball high and catching it with ease. "Thought you'd be meditating forever."
Shivam let out a small laugh, the sound fragile but real. "I'm trying. It's harder than it looks."
Dikshant shook his head, pain flickering in his eyes but tempered by gratitude. "Try recovering like this, then tell me it's easy."
Naina looked up, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "We're all broken in some way. At least you admit it."
Aanchal rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her grin. "Speak for yourself, Naina. I'm still waiting for you to admit you're a control freak."
The laughter that followed filled the infirmary with rare warmth. For a moment, the harsh world outside the bunker seemed to soften.
Shivam's gaze lingered on each of them — friends bound not just by cause, but by survival.
Before the moment could stretch too far, the door slid open again. Agastya entered, his tall frame commanding silence. His eyes swept the room with calm authority.
"We've run the necessary tests," Agastya announced. "You are all compatible with the Noctirum infusion process."
The words hung heavy in the air.
"What does that mean exactly?" Aman asked, setting the stress ball down.
Agastya stepped closer; voice measured. "The Noctirum ore you've seen in the extraction chambers carries immense energy. But raw power is unstable. The infusion process injects this energy into your bodies — linking it to your will, your mind, your very biology."
He paused, letting the weight of the explanation sink in. "It's painful. It's risky. And it's irreversible. There are no guarantees."
Shivam's heart pounded in his chest.
"But," Agastya added, "this is your chance to awaken what lies within — to become stronger, more resilient. Physically, you will not change drastically. You will look the same, but you will be fitter, healthier — more alive. The real change will be in your abilities, the powers you will discover tied to who you are."
A quiet ripple of murmurs passed between them.
Shivam cleared his throat. "My role — it's different, isn't it?"
Agastya nodded. "Yes. You will serve as the aura support — much like Adhivita once supported you. Your power will stabilize and amplify the group's abilities, weaving your will together with theirs to create resonance."
Aman smirked. "So, you're the battery pack?"
Agastya allowed himself a small smile. "A poetic way to put it, yes."
Rathod, standing near the console, folded her arms. "What about the risks? What if something goes wrong?"
Agastya's expression darkened slightly. "Some will struggle to control their powers. Some may suffer side effects we cannot yet predict. Without discipline and unity, the power can consume you."
Naina's eyes glittered with fierce intensity. "It's as much mental as it is physical, then."
"Exactly," Agastya said. His gaze settled on Shivam. "That is why leadership, trust, and support are crucial."
The group exchanged heavy looks — unspoken promises of loyalty and sacrifice.
"We begin tomorrow," Agastya concluded. "Rest tonight. This is only the beginning."
Shivam sank back into the cot, staring at the ceiling. The weight of what was to come pressed upon him, but beneath it, a faint spark flickered — fragile, yet unwavering.
Tomorrow, the spark would be tested.
At the night, the infirmary room was quiet except for the soft rustling of blankets and the occasional shifting of bodies on cots and beds. A dim light overhead cast long shadows that softened the harshness of the sterile walls.
Shivam lay on his cot; muscles sore but mind restless. Nearby, Dikshant flexed his injured arm with a wince, frustrated but silent. Aman stretched out on a floor mattress, eyes tracing the ceiling as if searching for answers. Naina sat propped on her bed, flipping through a notebook, her gaze flickering between the others. Aanchal leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, her usual sharp eyes softened by fatigue.
A quiet murmur rose between them. "So," Dikshant said with a dry grin, "what kind of powers do you think we'll get? Because if it's anything like injuries, I'm out."
A chuckle spread through the room. Aman smirked, "Not strength or healing, obviously — those are taken. I'm hoping for something like enhanced agility. Or better yet, the ability to phase through walls. That'd be handy on a mission."
Naina smiled thoughtfully. "I'd want something mental. Like telepathy or precognition. Not brute force, but sharp, useful powers that can turn the tide before the fight even starts."
Aanchal straightened, voice low and steady. "Stealth and speed for me. To move unseen, strike fast, disappear before anyone knows I was there."
Shivam smiled faintly, resting his head back. "I guess I'll be the one holding everyone together, like Adhivita did for me. My power is about keeping the spark alive. Without that, everything falls apart."
Aman teased, "So you're the battery? Everyone depends on you but no one notices."
Shivam laughed quietly. "Exactly. Like Wi-Fi but way more important."
Their laughter filled the room, warming the sterile air. For a moment, the weight of danger faded.
Naina looked around. "Do you think the powers will change who we are? Or just make us stronger versions?"
Dikshant shrugged, wincing again. "Maybe both. I just hope we don't lose ourselves. Power without heart is chaos."
Aanchal nodded. "It's not just having abilities. It's knowing when and why to use them."
Shivam closed his eyes briefly. "That's why we need each other. To keep us grounded."
Silence settled softly. Shivam looked around at his friends, the weight of their unspoken fears and hopes pressing in. Without a word, Naina moved closer and wrapped her arms around him in a sudden, fierce hug. Aanchal followed, pulling him in as well, grounding him with their strength. Aman and Dikshant didn't hesitate, joining in the embrace.
The room filled with the warmth of friendship and unspoken promises — a shield against the storm that awaited. And for a moment, they just held on to each other.
The early morning light filtered faintly through narrow, reinforced windows as Shivam and his friends were led deeper into the bowels of the Mayapuri bunker. The air grew cooler, tinged with the faint metallic scent of machinery and the faint hum of power systems that pulsed unseen through the walls.
Ahead loomed the Infusion Chamber — a vast, circular room dominated by a crystalline monolith rising from the floor like a shard of fractured starlight. Veins of glowing Noctirum ore snaked across the monolith's surface, casting shifting patterns of pale blue and silver light. The slow, rhythmic pulse of the ore was almost hypnotic, like the heartbeat of the very earth beneath them.
Agastya stood by the entrance, calm and measured, his eyes reflecting the strange glow. He gestured toward the sleek infusion chairs arranged in a semicircle around the monolith — chairs designed to interface directly with the nervous systems of those braves enough to undergo the process.
"This is where your transformation begins," Agastya said, voice low but steady. "The Noctirum ore within this chamber contains power beyond anything you've experienced. But power without harmony will consume you."
Shivam swallowed hard as he stepped forward. His mind drifted briefly to Lavin and Adhivita — two names heavy with memory. Lavin's bitter arrogance, his relentless pursuit of strength, and Adhivita's fierce compassion and support. Both had been marked by the Noctirum — their compatibility a delicate balance between will and fate.
Here, in this room, Shivam and his friends were to prove their own compatibility.
He glanced sideways at Dikshant, who gave a faint nod of encouragement, though his face was pale and drawn. Naina's eyes sparkled with steely determination. Aman's confident smirk barely masked his nervousness, and Aanchal's gaze was sharp, ready for whatever came.
Agastya continued, "Your compatibility levels hover between eighty and ninety percent — slightly less than the legendary pair, Lavin and Adhivita, but strong enough to awaken significant power. You are unique. Your strengths complement each other. Together, you will form a bond stronger than any one individual."
The group settled into their chairs, the cold leather pressing against their skin. Tubes and fine conduits descended from the monolith, connecting to the backs of the chairs and to small nodes that would link to their nervous systems.
The first sensation was subtle — a cool, tingling spread beneath their skin as the Noctirum began to flow. Then came a low vibration, growing in intensity until it hummed through their bones.
Dikshant's body tensed involuntarily, fists clenching as pain flared sharply in his injured arm. His mind was flooded with memories — the sharp snap of his fall during the last mission, the blur of panic and helplessness, and the quiet reassurance he had felt from Shivam's steady presence. He gasped, trying to ground himself as the energy coursed through, weaving resilience into his muscles and nerves.
Naina's breathing grew shallow. Her mind was assaulted by flickering images — moments of doubt, failed calculations, and the cold, biting isolation she sometimes felt despite the group. Yet beneath it all, a bright clarity began to emerge. She felt the subtle threads of energy entwining with her thoughts, sharpening her intuition and giving her a glimpse of possibilities previously unseen.
Aman gritted his teeth as heat radiated from his chest to his limbs. His body ached with a raw, unrefined power — his reckless nature amplified and refined, the hunger to protect and fight burning brighter. Memories of past failures and losses surged through him, tempered by a fierce determination to make this second chance count.
Aanchal's usually composed exterior cracked. Shadows flickered behind her closed eyes as speed and agility surged beneath her skin. The rush of adrenaline was intoxicating but strange, and she fought to keep control, her mind snapping back to the countless times she had outrun danger — now, enhanced and amplified.
Shivam sat quietly, eyes closed, feeling the currents of their awakening powers ripple toward him. His role was different. He wasn't the primary conduit for power but the resonance — the anchor. His aura flared softly, weaving a steady thread of energy that stabilized the chaotic surges in his friends.
In his mind's eye, Shivam saw the image of Adhivita, her presence calm and steady as she had been for him in his darkest moments. He felt the weight of responsibility settle more firmly but also with clarity. His power wasn't to dominate but to hold, to support, to bind.
The infusion reached a crescendo — waves of pain and ecstasy, fear and hope crashing in a storm inside their bodies and minds.
One by one, they slumped back in their chairs, breaths ragged but eyes alight with new fire. Their physical forms had not changed drastically, but beneath the surface, they were transformed — stronger, sharper, more alive.
Agastya's voice cut through the heavy silence. "This is just the beginning. The powers you've gained will grow — only if you master control and trust in each other. Alone, these abilities can destroy you. Together, you become unstoppable."
Shivam opened his eyes, meeting the determined gazes of his friends. "We'll learn together," he said quietly. "We'll be ready."
And in that moment, the future — uncertain and dangerous — seemed a little less daunting.
They emerged from the infusion chamber with their bodies aching and minds buzzing, still glowing faintly from the resonance field. Every movement felt surreal — as if they had been pulled apart and stitched back together by the very heartbeat of Noctirum itself. Their limbs were heavy, but there was a quiet lightness just beneath the skin. Power — raw, unfiltered, and new — shimmered like a second pulse beneath the surface.
The corridor beyond the chamber was quiet and dimly lit, but the world felt crisper. Every edge was more defined, every sound sharper. The hum of the bunker, the rhythm of boots on stone, even the echo of their own breaths — it was like stepping into a version of reality that had always been there but never fully visible until now.
A faint pulse shimmered beneath each of their skins. Not overwhelming or theatrical — no roaring flame or blinding light. Just a quiet glow, steady and rhythmic. A heartbeat of energy, not to be flaunted, but felt.
They didn't speak much on their way to the training room. They were still absorbing it all — the vision-like flashes during infusion, the flood of sensations, the way their thoughts felt more layered now, as if possibility itself was part of their awareness.