Chapter 9 – The Brother in the Shadows
The room had gone quiet.
After facing his friends, his tormentors, and even his own parents, Vaibhav stood trembling in the endless dark, his body shaking but healing again and again as the black energy of the chamber worked on him. Each cut, each burn, each stab vanished in seconds, leaving only the memory of pain behind.
And then… a final silhouette stepped from the darkness.
At first, Vaibhav thought it was another illusion—just another cruel trick of his mind. But then he recognized the walk, the stance, the familiar cold sharpness in those eyes.
It was Prabhat.
Vaibhav froze. His lips trembled as the figure's calm voice echoed through the void.
"Still standing?" it asked. "You're more stubborn than I thought."
The illusion raised a blade that shimmered like glass.
Vaibhav didn't move. He stared at it for a moment, then… laughed.
Soft at first, then louder. A raw, hollow laughter that filled the chamber.
"Hahaha… haahhaa… you know," he said between breaths, "I could believe everything—the betrayals, the hatred, even my family turning on me—but this?"
The fake Prabhat tilted his head. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because," Vaibhav whispered, his voice steadying, "I would never believe my brother would try to kill me." He raised his gaze, eyes burning with conviction. "He would never hurt me. He once fought with Master. You think the same person who shielded me all my life would stab me in the back? You're not my brother."
The illusion's face flickered.
"You're just another lie," Vaibhav said, clenching his fists. "But… I should thank you. This illusion—it gave me something I never thought I'd have. I got to see Mom and Dad again… even if it was fake."
The shadows trembled. The image of Prabhat shattered into smoke, and the darkness of the room began to dissolve like melting ink. A faint blue glow replaced it, soft and calm. Vaibhav fell to his knees, exhausted but smiling.
Outside, in the crystalline laboratory, a screen flickered to life—showing the boy's heartbeat stabilizing, the darkness around him fading.
Lin Xuan watched the display, arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Hey, Prabhat," he said casually, "the kid's tougher than you were. You remember how much you cried?"
Prabhat's face turned red instantly. "Master, please don't make me remember that. It's embarrassing."
Lin Xuan chuckled quietly. "Embarrassing, heh?" His gaze softened. "There's nothing embarrassing about it. Even men cry—not from physical pain, but from emotional scars. That's what makes us human."
Prabhat's expression shifted. The words hit deeper than he expected. His eyes lowered, his breath slow. Memories began to surface—painful, distant ones buried beneath years of training and duty.
Fourteen Years Ago
The night sky was painted with smoke.
Inside a small wooden house on the outskirts of the city, a boy of eleven knelt beside a frail woman lying on a cot. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow.
"Mother, please," Prabhat whispered, clutching her hand. "You'll be fine. I'll find medicine."
The woman—Ishara—smiled weakly, brushing his cheek. "Prabhat… you must run. They're coming. They're coming for you and Vaibhi."
Prabhat's heart stopped. "What? Who's coming?"
Her voice broke as she whispered, "Your father's death… wasn't an accident. It was murder."
His eyes widened.
"Take your brother and go," Ishara continued, her eyes glistening. "Don't think about revenge. Just… protect him. Promise me."
Tears streamed down Prabhat's face as he nodded fiercely. "Yes, Mother. I promise. I'll protect Vaibhi. No matter what happens."
He lifted his younger brother—barely seven at the time—onto his back and ran into the forest behind the house. He looked back once. From a distance, he saw headlights pierce the darkness.
A black car stopped near their home. A tall man stepped out, his eyes cold as steel.
Erik Johnson.
The man lit a match and threw it toward the house. The flames devoured it within seconds.
Prabhat wanted to scream. But his mother's last words echoed in his mind. Run.
So he ran.
For the next four years, Prabhat and Vaibhav lived in the slums—alone, starving, hunted by shadows they didn't understand. Prabhat fought in underground arenas for scraps of money. He learned to fight, to bleed, to survive.
Then, one day, everything changed.
A man appeared.
He wasn't ordinary—his eyes were pitch black, faintly glowing white, as though galaxies lived within them.
Prabhat's instincts screamed danger. Erik's man.
Without hesitation, he attacked. A spinning kick, sharp and precise, aimed at the stranger's head. The man caught it effortlessly.
"Oh my," the man said, amused. "Kids these days don't even know how to respect their ancestors."
Prabhat blinked. "Ancestors? He couldn't be older than seventeen!"
"Stop messing around!" Prabhat lunged again, a boxing jab followed by a Taekwondo roundhouse. The man dodged them easily, grinning.
"Boxing! Taekwondo! Oh, and that was definitely Karate earlier—hah, you know quite a few styles!" the man teased, dodging each strike like a leaf in the wind. "Kung Fu too? Impressive!"
"Who the hell are you!?" Prabhat shouted.
The man sighed. "Alright, enough warm-up." He grabbed Prabhat by the face and pinned him effortlessly into the dirt.
Vaibhav, terrified but furious, ran up and kicked the man's leg. "Stay away from my brother!"
The man looked down at him and smirked. "Huh? You little ant… know your place."
He flicked his wrist—Vaibhav flew backward, gasping as the air was knocked out of him.
Both brothers blacked out.
When they woke, they were lying on clean sheets in a bright room. A woman in a white doctor's coat stood beside them, arms crossed. Her beauty was almost ethereal, her silver eyes soft with concern.
"Brother Lin," she said, glaring toward the corner, "how could you hurt those kids?"
The same man from before stood there, scratching his head sheepishly. "I got a little excited, Yan'er. It was an accident."
Then he turned toward them and smiled. "Hello, kids. Sorry about earlier. I didn't introduce myself properly. My name is Lin Xuan. I'm from the same bloodline as you."
He pointed toward the woman. "This is ShenYi Yan'er. You can call her Sister Yan'er."
Prabhat stared at them, stunned. "Same… bloodline?"
Lin Xuan nodded. "From today, you won't live in the slums. You'll live with us."
And from that day forward, their lives changed. Lin Xuan introduced them to his family—Anika, Arjun, Theo, Daichi, Vivan, Alicia, and a man with piercing gray eyes, ShenYi Ren.
Alicia was the same age as Vaibhav. Within weeks, they became inseparable.
Lin Xuan later took Prabhat into his lab, where he revealed the truth about their bloodline—ancient, powerful, tied to forces older than the Nexus itself. Prabhat trained day and night, enduring the same Black Room trial that Vaibhav now faced. He had survived one whole month inside and later entered the Nexus, climbing through the Jovaryn ranks in six years.
Present
Lin Xuan leaned against the lab railing, watching the data feeds as Vaibhav's heartbeat surged with new strength.
"Well," he murmured, "the boy's almost ready."
Beside him, a group of unconscious figures—Vaibhav's bullies—lay tied on the laboratory bench. Lin Xuan's eyes hardened.
"Now," he said quietly, "it's time for your lesson."
Lin Xuan approached the captives, the faint hum of his lab instruments filling the silence. "You dared to hurt him," he whispered, picking up a beaker, the liquid inside bubbling faintly. "Let's see how much pain your own fear can cause."