After watching the strange stillness of the crowd for a while, Om finally stepped out of his car, curiosity pulling him forward. He walked up to a man standing at the edge of the road and asked politely,
"What's going on here, brother? Why is there such a huge crowd?"
The man glanced at him, then sighed heavily before replying,
"Son… Kamla Thakur and his brother are standing right in the middle of the road, celebrating Singhania's death. Who knows what will happen to this city? One goon dies, another takes his place… it's like this city is cursed to live under gang rule forever."
Hearing that, Om's brows furrowed in surprise. Slowly, he began moving forward, trying to catch a glimpse of this Kamla Thakur.
He had no idea… that the half-dead man he had beaten brutally—Raj—was actually Kamla Thakur's younger brother.
And right now, those two brothers were sitting in the middle of the road, treating it like their personal stage.
Om didn't even realize that if Raj recognized him and reacted… this silent street could erupt into a full-blown war within seconds.
Completely unaware of the storm he was walking into, Om kept moving ahead, drawn toward the man people seemed too afraid to even look at directly.
"Take my brother… carefully… with respect. Put him in the ambulance and take him home," Kamla ordered, his voice calm yet heavy with authority. "From now on, all his treatment will happen at my house."
The bulky men standing beside him—more like bodyguards than anything else—nodded instantly.
"What are you staring at? Move him! I've got places to be!"
The irritation in Kamla's tone was enough.
Within seconds, his men sprang into action.
Meanwhile, Om pushed through the crowd and finally reached the front.
And then—
He saw him.
A massive man stood in the center of the road, dressed in formal clothes yet radiating pure menace. He looked like a businessman at first glance… but one look at his face, and the illusion shattered. Tattoos covered his arms, a few buttons of his shirt were left open, revealing a sculpted, intimidating physique. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and both his hands rested confidently on his waist.
Kamla Thakur.
A faint, twisted smile played on his lips as he looked at the terrified crowd standing before him.
And he enjoyed it.
The fear.
The silence.
The control.
Something he had never truly felt before… because until now, he had always lived under Singhania's shadow.
But now?
Singhania was dead.
And all that power…
Belonged to him.
Kamla tilted his head back, inhaling deeply as if he could smell his dominance in the air. A satisfied grin spread across his face.
"Ahh… what a feeling… what a feeling! These winds… yes… these winds finally belong to Kamla Thakur. They move the way I want them to."
His laughter echoed, loud and wild.
"My time… has finally come!"
Moments later, the giant of a man turned around, stepped into his car, muttered a few instructions to his men—and drove away like he owned not just the road, but the entire city.
And just like that—
The spell broke.
People began dispersing.
The traffic slowly started moving again, the tension dissolving into the night air.
Om stood there for a moment, processing everything, then quietly walked back to his car and drove off.
As he drove, his thoughts returned to what he had just seen.
"That guy in the ambulance… wasn't he the same rich brat who misbehaved with Supriya that day?"
His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel as the memory replayed in his mind.
"Looks like I knocked the sense right out of him… well, he deserved it. And that wrestler-looking guy… must be his brother. No wonder he was acting so big."
A faint smirk appeared on his face.
"Gotta admit though… the guy's built like a tank. But these days, every random idiot wants to become a gangster… like it's some kind of trend."
He shook his head lightly.
"Doesn't matter… I'll deal with him someday. For now—let's get to the party."
With that, Om pressed the accelerator, and his car sped into the night.
Far away… in a realm untouched by the mortal world—
Inside the grand court of Badallok, an intense discussion was underway.
Ambu, Dhumketu, and Queen Neerja stood together, their expressions serious.
"Your Majesty," Ambu spoke hurriedly, "we've begun the preparations. All the communities have taken up their respective duties."
Queen Neerja nodded, pleased. "Excellent. And what about the war training?"
Before Ambu could respond—
A sudden presence filled the hall.
Sarpdoot had arrived.
He bowed respectfully. "Victory to the Queen."
Neerja acknowledged him with grace, and the discussion resumed.
"Your Majesty," Ambu continued, "all the factions have restarted their war training with full strength and determination. It will take some time, but they will regain mastery over every lost combat technique. The army… will soon be ready for that child."
A faint smile appeared on Neerja's face. "Wonderful. I hope everything unfolds just as you say."
But then—
Her gaze shifted.
Dhumketu.
He stood there, silent… lost in thought, his face unusually tense.
"Guru Dhumketu," Neerja said, her voice laced with curiosity, "you seem distracted. Is something troubling you? Even when Sarpdoot arrived, you didn't say a word."
Dhumketu straightened slightly, his tone turning serious.
"My apologies, Your Majesty… and greetings, Sarpdoot. I was thinking about something… something that doesn't make sense to me."
Neerja stepped closer, intrigued. "Tell me, Guru. What is bothering you?"
Dhumketu took a breath.
"Your Majesty… Sarpdoot… I want your thoughts on this. If I'm wrong, correct me. But what I don't understand is this—how could a runaway serpent, someone no one would accept… be taken in by the demons? And not just that… how did he end up becoming their ruler?"
Before anyone else could respond, Ambu scoffed lightly.
"Guru, you're overthinking. They're demons. They'll do the kind of foolish things we never would. A king of fools, ruling over fools."
But Neerja immediately cut him off.
"No, Ambu… the demons were never fools. Their decisions may have been wrong—but they were not ignorant. Some of the greatest minds in history came from their kind—King Bali, Ravan, Vibhishan… and many more. I don't believe they would make someone unworthy their ruler."
Dhumketu nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. And Sarpdoot… based on what you told us when Takshak fled… wasn't he unstable? Reckless? Foolish?"
Sarpdoot replied firmly, "Yes… absolutely. In the history of serpents, Takshak is considered one of the most foolish. His reckless actions are the very reason he was exiled from Naglok. But—"
"Wait!"
Dhumketu's voice suddenly thundered through the hall.
Everyone froze.
The abrupt shift in his demeanor sent a ripple of shock across the court. Neerja stepped forward, concern flashing across her face.
"Dhumketu… what is it? Why do you look so worried?"
Dhumketu's expression had changed completely.
Fear.
Pure, unmistakable fear.
"He's coming…" he said hurriedly. "I need to leave. Right now."
Neerja's voice trembled slightly. "Who… who is coming, Guru?"
Dhumketu looked at her—
And for the first time, his voice carried something almost unimaginable.
"My son."