Aryan's mind raced. The family had countless high-value associates—foreign dignitaries, business rivals, even powerful figures within their own society. But to hide a person from the Council of Elders and the family itself? This was unprecedented. The weight of the task pressed down on him; his fists clenched tightly, heart pounding, throat dry. For the first time in his life, he felt a knot of fear and awe tighten in his chest.
Veer's gaze was a command in itself. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Aryan said, firm, though a flicker of tension betrayed his outward composure.
"Good." Veer moved toward his chair, a silent, powerful presence. "Get a new haircut—or change the color. Alter your appearance so the other family members won't recognize you." He paused, eyes fixed on Aryan. "Now, get some sleep. Meet me in the garden early in the morning."
"Okay, sir," Aryan replied, swallowing hard.
Veer gave a final, appraising nod to both Aryan and Javed. "Rest while you can. You may not get the chance for a while."
---
In a quiet house, a man prepared to leave. He moved with practiced precision, sliding a fitted dark jacket over his clothes. On the table lay his chosen weapons: a sleek, high-tech pistol, a combat knife with a composite blade, and a small, razor-sharp sword. He secured each into hidden holsters, methodical and deliberate.
"Do you really have to go?" a soft voice asked behind him.
He didn't turn. "Why ask a question you already know the answer to?"
"But…" she began, worry threading her voice.
He turned, offering a reassuring smile. "It's not like I'm going to a gate or a monster field. It's just an escort mission."
She stepped closer, brow furrowed. "I've never seen you this serious before."
"It's not about danger," he said, voice dropping to a solemn tone. "It's about the man I'm escorting." He placed the final weapon and then lifted a simple, full-face mask of gate obsidian, the public face of his identity. For a moment, he held it in his hand, contemplating the weight of responsibility. His wife's gaze followed the mask, understanding that this mission was not merely perilous—it carried immense stakes. He donned it, transforming into a figure of cold, professional resolve. Nodding to his wife, he exited, the door clicking softly behind him.
---
Near midnight, the only light in Veer's study came from humming holographic displays and the soft glow of a desk lamp. Veer sat at his desk, consumed by work, his focus absolute. A precise, rhythmic knock echoed through the silence.
"Who is it?" Veer asked, voice low and commanding.
"Samrat," came the crisp reply.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Samrat entered, his dark suit perfectly tailored despite the late hour. He walked with quiet purpose, stopping a few feet from the desk.
"Sir, the identity for him has been completed," Samrat reported, voice firm. "The documents will be delivered early in the morning."
"Good," Veer said, turning back to his work, already treating the matter as handled.
________________
In front of the hidden entrance of the Dragon's Lair—a facility spoken of only in whispers—stood a man. He wore a fitted dark jacket, and his full-face mask was a seamless plate of obsidian black, marked with a subtle, dragon mark. A heavy, automated door loomed silently before him.
A gatekeeper's face appeared in a small, reinforced window, expression cold and professional, betraying no recognition.
"State your name and purpose. Present your credentials."
The masked man did not speak. He reached into his jacket, producing a simple black card forged from the same crystalline gate obsidian as his mask. He held it to the scanner. A light pulsed over the card and then his face. A series of electronic clicks, followed by a single green light, confirmed his identity.
The gatekeeper's demeanor shifted instantly. The professional mask melted into one of deep reverence. He stepped back, and the heavy door hissed open.
"We were waiting for you, sir," he said, voice low and awed. "My apologies for the formality. Please, First Knight—the path is clear."
The First Knight stepped inside. He had known of this place from a thousand mission reports, but this was his first time within its walls. The air was cool and sterile, contrasting sharply with the humid night outside. The building felt alive, almost sentient, humming quietly with contained power. He was an outsider here; only high-ranking family members and dedicated researchers had access to this inner sanctum.
The gatekeeper led him down a long corridor, past reinforced doors and glowing screens displaying intricate data. They finally arrived at the lead researcher's cabin. The door stood ajar, and inside, Dr. Vikram Rao was hunched over his console, eyes scanning a dozen screens filled with intricate, unfamiliar data—the past of a legend meticulously analyzed for the future.
Vikram looked up as they entered, his gaze falling on the figure in the dark jacket and obsidian mask. A small, weary smile touched his lips.
"So, they sent you," he said, voice low, teasing.
The First Knight's reply was sharp, precise, as cold as his mask. "Where is he?"
"Still as cold as ever. Resting," Vikram said, pushing back from the console and straightening. His posture mirrored the exhaustion of countless sleepless nights. "Come with me."
They moved silently through the corridor, their footsteps muted on the sterile floor. The First Knight's gaze remained fixed on Vikram's back. They had been on countless missions together, but never one of such monumental importance.
Finally, they reached the living room, the heart of the facility. The hum of machinery filled the charged silence, mingling with the unspoken questions hanging in the air.
Vikram knocked once.
"Come in," a deep, rumbling voice answered.
They entered a quiet, dimly lit living space, its atmosphere taut with anticipation. The man they had come for lay on the sofa, eyes open, silently observing. His expression was unreadable, a calm mask over layers of thought.
Vikram stepped forward, maintaining a respectful distance.
"Sir, this is the one who will be your escort," he said.
The First Knight inclined his head slightly, acknowledging both the gravity of the task and the presence of the man whose life he was now entrusted to protect.