New Delhi, Late 1918
The monsoon rains had passed, leaving the capital washed clean and glinting beneath the pale sunlight. The tricolor fluttered above the governor's palace—once a symbol of British rule, now the beating heart of a free Union. In the Cabinet chamber, Arjun Sen sat beside Prime Minister Motilal Nehru as aides hurried in and out, bearing telegrams stamped with the crests of foreign ministries.Each message confirmed what had once seemed impossible: the great powers of the world were acknowledging the Union of India as a sovereign republic.The first came from Berlin. The German Reich, seeking allies against a faltering British-led coalition, formally recognized India's independence. The note was terse but respectful, offering trade negotiations and technological cooperation. Then Austria-Hungary followed, eager to balance power in Asia. The United States, slower and more cautious, finally sent its recognition as well—an act of quiet pragmatism signaling the dawn of a new global order.As the news spread, celebrations erupted in India's major cities. Crowds filled the streets, chanting and waving flags. For many, it was not merely diplomatic acknowledgment but vindication—the world's acceptance of an India that had seized its destiny through intellect, courage, and unity.In the assembly hall, Arjun addressed the nation through the newly established Indian Telegraph Bulletin.
"Today, the Union of India stands not as a subject of empires but as an equal among nations. Let the world know that our peace is not submission, our friendship not fear."Behind the speeches and ceremonies, however, Arjun's mind stayed calculating, always two steps ahead. Recognition came with expectations and risks. Germany offered partnership but sought influence. America's idealism hid curiosity—its diplomats whispered of Arjun's impossible strategies, the eerie precision with which his enemies seemed to disappear. Britain fumed in silence, powerless but plotting from the shadows.Late one evening, as reports from Europe flickered by lamplight, Arjun let his gaze drift toward the Death Note resting in a locked drawer. His immortal eyes had glimpsed history long before it was written, yet in this moment, he allowed himself quiet pride. The independence he had vowed to achieve had become reality not through bloodshed or blind rebellion, but through mastery—of power, of fear, of fate itself.Still, beneath the surface of victory, he sensed a coming storm. Recognition brought alliances, and alliances brought entanglements. Empires never died quietly, and those who had ruled India for centuries would not rest forever.India had entered the world stage as a republic. But for Arjun Sen—the immortal architect of its freedom—the next struggle was no longer to liberate his homeland, but to defend its destiny from the tides of ambition that awaited beyond its borders