The morning sun glinted off the scorched clearing, and a deceptive calm had settled over the village. Anand took a tentative breath, feeling a fleeting relief that Chanmrigasura had been vanquished. But the peace shattered the moment he noticed screams and cries rising from the far edge of the clearing.
Trees, cracked and blackened by the battle, had toppled onto huts. Rocks and earth had shifted, burying small dwellings and trapping villagers. Dust choked the air, mixing with smoke and the acrid scent of singed wood. Anand's heart leapt into panic.
"People… people are trapped!" he shouted, darting toward a cluster of debris. Villagers were already scrambling, but confusion and fear slowed their efforts. Some were pinned under fallen trees, others under rocks loosened by the demon's thrashing.
Anand spotted a man, mid-thirties, lying still beneath a collapsed wooden frame. His chest was flat, breaths shallow or absent. The villagers murmured that he was dead, and even Agastya's calm gaze hinted at despair. But Anand refused to accept it.
He cleared debris as quickly as he could, then knelt beside the man. Checking for responsiveness, he called out, "Sir! Can you hear me?" No response. Checking for a pulse at the carotid artery, he found none. The man was pulseless. Anand's mind raced — he needed to act immediately.
He positioned the man on his back on a flat, firm surface. Kneeling beside him, Anand placed the heel of one hand on the center of the man's chest, the lower half of the sternum, and interlocked his fingers with the other hand. He straightened his shoulders, keeping his arms locked, and began chest compressions.
Compression depth: approximately 5–6 centimeters (2–2.5 inches).
Rate: 100–120 compressions per minute, counting silently to maintain rhythm.
Technique: allowed full chest recoil after each compression, keeping steady pressure.
After 30 compressions, he quickly tilted the man's head back, lifted the chin, and gave two rescue breaths, pinching the nose and sealing his mouth over the man's, ensuring the chest rose with each breath.
30 compressions, 2 breaths. Repeat. He repeated the cycle relentlessly, his palms burning, his breaths ragged. Anand was hyper-aware of the time passing — each cycle taking roughly 18–20 seconds for compressions, with breaths adding a few seconds. He counted cycles in his head: 1… 2… 3… 4…
Anand repeated the cycles of chest compressions and rescue breaths, each movement precise, deliberate, and tireless. The villagers around him were frozen in a mixture of dread and disbelief. Some had already started murmuring prayers for the man's soul, accepting what they assumed was inevitable.
Then, faintly at first, a cough escaped the man's lips. Heads turned sharply. Whispered gasps spread like wildfire.
"Alive…?" one elderly woman breathed, stepping back in fear.
The man coughed again, sputtering smoke from his lungs, and weakly rolled to his side. A few children clutched at their mothers, wide-eyed, unsure if what they saw was human power, divine intervention, or something frightening beyond explanation.
Anand helped him sit upright, checking the pulse and reassuring him gently. The villagers slowly inched closer, eyes locked on Anand. Some lowered their heads in awe, others whispered, "This man… he brings the dead back."
One young hunter muttered to another, barely able to contain his disbelief, "How… how did he do that?"
The elder who had been critical of Anand's eccentric ways now remained silent, a mixture of shock and reluctant respect washing over him. Even those who had doubted or gossiped now regarded Anand with a new, reverent curiosity.
Anand, breathing heavily, met their stares and said simply, "He's alive. That's all that matters. Let's focus on helping the others."
The villagers, though still awed, rallied quickly, helping free those trapped under debris and tending to those injured. The moment had changed something—Anand was no longer just an outsider with strange clothes and strange ways; he was a force that could turn despair into hope, even if the means were utterly unfamiliar to them.
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