Prologue – Fifty Years ago
Fifty years ago, the Thar Desert, a restricted zone
The wind screamed across the dunes like something that had learned language and hated it.
Dr. Veer Saha, beard white with sand, stood before the impossible skeleton.
A serpent longer than a freight train, ribs thick as temple pillars, fangs curved like executioner blades.
"Twice the size of Titanoboa," he whispered into his recorder.
"Either evolution lied… or the myths were right."
He reached out and touched the empty eye socket.
The socket pulsed, venom-green, alive.
That night the entire expedition vanished.
Only their shadows remained, burned into the sand, mouths stretched in perfect circles of eternal screaming.
Present day – Mumbai, rooftop auditorium
Spotlights. Applause. A 200-foot screen.
A woman in charcoal silk and diamonds glided across the stage, smile sharp enough to cut glass.
"Fifty years ago, Dr. Veer Saha disappeared chasing truth," she said, voice velvet over venom.
"Today, the Institute of Eternal Progress has turned that truth into flesh."
The screen showed a shirtless volunteer, black scales rippling across his shoulders as he lifted a one-ton concrete block with two fingers.
"We are building the future," she continued.
"Stronger. Faster. Beyond weakness. Beyond fear. Beyond… human."
The scales on the volunteer's neck flexed, tasting the air.
She leaned forward, eyes catching the light like polished obsidian.
"Want to evolve?
Dial the number on your screen.
Humanity is optional."
Chapter 1
The same ad played for the eighteenth time.
"Humanity is optional."
Madhu threw a cushion at the TV. "Let me watch one damn match!"
Three weeks since the village.
Three weeks since he carried a mountain on his back and watched the sky punish a monster.
On the outside: normal first-year university student.
On the inside: he still counted to three every time someone said his name.
"Madhu!"
First call.
"Madhu beta!"
Second.
"Madhu, are you deaf?!"
Third.
Only then did he answer.
"Coming, Ma!"
His mother handed him a grocery list like a battle plan.
"Bargain properly. No sad tomatoes."
Market Street, 6:45 p.m.
Crowded. Loud.
And the three men were back—always three, always half a street behind, eyes that never blinked.
Today he decided: tomorrow I will confront them.
Or I call Uncle Satya.
He paid, bargained thirty rupees off, and headed home.
11:47 p.m.
Madhu photographed the three men from his window and fired the pictures to Satya.
They've been following me for weeks.
Please do something.
Then he barricaded the door with a chair and collapsed.
Across the city, Satya stared at the photos, rubbed the scar the Nishi had left, and added Madhu to the group chat labelled "Crazy Kids (Do Not Delete)".
Rooftop terrace, midnight
Amrita paced, cigarette glowing.
"The Institute had eyes on him before we did. Always public places—we can't touch them without exposing everything."
Mitra bounded up the stairs radiating sunlight at midnight.
"Worried about the new guy? Relax! I'm transferring to his college tomorrow. One week and we'll be besties."
He flexed; the air literally brightened. "No one lays a finger on my friends."
Amrita sighed. "Just keep the collateral low. Uncle Daksh is still paying for your last 'minor' crater."
Underground – Level -7, Institute of Eternal Progress
Cold white light. Stainless steel. The smell of bleach and old blood.
Dr. Anahita Saha—stood before a wall of photographs of Madhu.
She wore a pristine white coat and a smile that belonged on something with too many teeth.
"Still hasn't awakened even a quarter of the fragment," she murmured, tracing a gloved finger across sleeping Madhu's face.
She turned to the empty surgical table behind her—restraints gleaming, cameras ready.
"I'm a patient woman," she told the photograph.
"But patience has limits.
Soon I'll open you up, little god.
I want to see which part of you screams louder—the boy…
or the Preserver."
She pressed a kiss to the photo, leaving a perfect red print.
Somewhere far above, a boy slept behind a barricaded door,
dreaming of oceans rising to swallow cities.