Weeks Later.
Night.
Ranga Kingdom — Location Unknown.
It was deep into the night.
Atop a hill that rose into a plateau, the sky stretched clear and vast. Stars filled it in dense clusters, and now and then, streaks of light—meteors—cut across the darkness.
A small encampment sat at the top.
One central tent, surrounded by two smaller ones. Guards were positioned around the perimeter, alert despite the hour. Horses stood nearby, saddled and ready.
Inside the main tent—six guards stood watch, along with several dasis.
The tent itself was lavish. Silk woven with gold thread formed its walls, and every furnishing reflected status—intricate carvings of animals, humans, and deities, detailed down to the smallest ornaments they wore.
At the center lay a large bed. To one side, a seating area.
There—an older woman sat.
She appeared to be over fifty, yet carried herself with unmistakable authority. Her clothes and jewelry alone marked her status as sovereign.
"Maharani Chandana," one of the dasis spoke, "we have yet to see anything resembling what was described in the letter."
"Time," the Maharani replied, not looking up from what she was reading.
"We still have about—"
The flap of the tent burst open.
A soldier rushed in, breathing heavily, sweat visible even in the dim light.
"Maharani," he said, bowing quickly, "we have sighted a fireball heading southeast."
The Maharani eyes widened with satisfaction as she looked up.
"Light the beacon," she ordered.
The soldier straightened immediately. "As you command."
He bowed again and left without delay.
The Maharani rose to her feet.
"So… I finally get to meet him," she murmured.
Then, as she moved toward the exit—
"Ashwini is it prepared?" she asked.
"Yes, Maharani," Ashwini replied.
They stepped outside.
At the center of the camp, a large mana crystal was being fed mana by a few men. It glowed intensely—bright enough to blind if looked at directly.
But more importantly—it pulsed.
Waves of mana spread outward from it, rhythmic and controlled—like a signal.
After a few min the fireball flickered—then dimmed. For a brief moment, its brilliance softened, as if something had restrained it.
Then—its trajectory shifted.
What had been cutting across the sky began to curve, slowly at first, then with clear intent.
It was no longer passing by. But was coming back.
Straight toward them.
__________________________________
Several Hours Earlier.
Outside the Capital Vala — Open Fields.
It was well past golden hour.
The last traces of orange had faded from the sky, replaced by the deep, uninterrupted darkness of night. The moon was absent—hidden in its phase—leaving the sky clearer, sharper. Stars filled the expanse, and every so often, a streak of light—meteors—cut across the darkness.
In the middle of it—Hamsa stood alone.
He was clad in full-body armor. Primarily chainmail, reinforced with plates at key points—chest, shoulders, and head
"You're sure this is safe?" Adi asked, his spirit form faintly glowing against the night for those who could perceive him, siting with his legs crossed and hands folded.
"I am," Hamsa replied, adjusting the fit of the armor after the initial flight from the Royal Palace. "And if you're going to speak—do it to cheer me, not jinx me."
Adi smirked and then vanished.
A moment later, he reappeared—first in the form of Raj, Hamsa's past life appearance.
And then—it shifted.
The structure remained, but everything else changed.
Now he stood in the form of an anime girl—features exaggerated, proportions stylized. A cheerleader outfit clung to the body, deliberately emphasizing every curve, hair tied high in a bouncing ponytail, pom-poms in hand.
Adi—no, she—grinned.
And began cheering.
Hamsa's eye twitched as he dragged a hand down his face.
I should have never let this guy watch anything from my old world…
He cursed his naïve past self for ever thinking it was a good idea.
He turned out like those two…
Adi, completely unbothered, only got louder—fully committed to the act.
Hamsa exhaled slowly and chose to ignore it.
Then—he blinked.
When his eyes opened again, the near pitch black pupil against the white iris was gown replaced with a faint white hue.
Then he raised a hand in front of his chest.
Mana gathered. And then—a projection formed. A hologram made of mana hovered before him.
It was a map.
More precisely—a flat, detailed layout of the surrounding land. Large natural features were marked clearly—rivers, elevations, terrain shifts.
Above it—faint particles moved.
Drifting and flowing. Simulating the air currents high in the sky.
After studying the map carefully, he lowered his hand.
Then he began taking slow, deep breaths—trying to steady himself, to keep his mind calm and focused.
It didn't work.
Because right beside him—Adi was still there... In full cheerleader form.
Pom-poms shaking, voice bright and completely out of place—
["Let's go, Hamsa! You got this! Don't crash. Don't burn!"]
Hamsa's eye twitched.
Why do I get all the weird ones!! Hamsa though and with a sigh began to lift off the ground.
Soon he was high in the sky, just below the clouds. The air was thinner here—he could feel it in his lungs—and the cold bit through even his reinforced armor.
"Achoo—" Hamsa sneezed, the sound oddly loud in the open sky.
"You okay?" Adi appeared beside him, still in that absurd cheerleader form, voice carrying a tone that made Hamsa visibly uncomfortable.
"I'm fine," Hamsa replied, exhaling slowly. "Just need to start everything, I will be fine then."
Adi tilted his head—then shifted forms again, now a small child with wide, sparkling eyes, curiosity almost overflowing. "How are you going to breath?"
"Well," he began, forcing himself to ignore the form, "all that metallurgy and experimentation over the past few weeks paid off. I can now, with decent accuracy, control what my mana interacts with—down to specific elements."
As he spoke, the mana clinging tightly to his armor spread outward, forming a cocoon around him—denser, tighter, more refined than before.
Adi, still in the form of a small child, tilted his head and asked again, voice laced with childish curiosity and slightly off pronunciation.
"Okay… but how you gonna fly? I am just a sprit projection, I can go anywhere… but how you do it?"
"You know the basics, just using my mana to create a small mana zone right up against my skin and using the difference in charge between my mana and the natural mana to levitate and once I reach sufficient speed, I'll create a low-pressure zone in front of me. Then I'll take the excess air from that and the surroundings, compress it to extreme levels, and release it from the back. But I need smooth airflow first—if the intake isn't stable, the whole thing collapses." Hamsa spoke.
He began moving again.
Slow at first—then rising.
Breaking past the cloud layer.
Now, above it all, the world opened beneath him. A vast sea of clouds stretched endlessly, lit faintly by starlight.
He looked out.
Only one word left him—
"Beautiful…"
"All that is fine," Adi cut in, instantly killing the moment, now back in his usual form, floating beside him. "How are you going to handle the G-force?"
Hamsa didn't even look at him.
"My body is built differently. I could see clearly moments after I was born, so think this body should take much much more then even the average of this world, let alone my old one. And I'm reinforcing it with mana on top of that." He gestured slightly. "This cocoon also acts as a dampener. And since it's made of mana—more precisely, structured air—I can cycle it to regulate temperature as well. Like they do with re-entry spacecrafts...."
He kept going, slipping fully into explanation, his tone bordering on obsessive.
Adi groaned. "I got it, I got it—stop," he said, covering his ears, trying to block it out.
Hamsa didn't.
Soon Adi left out do his part and Hamsa after reaching the position he wanted, he shifted direction and began climbing higher.
Hamsa adjusted his path—and caught an air current.
It carried him south-east.
Not forcefully, but enough. A steady push, enough to build momentum.
Enough to begin accelerating—slowly, but surely—toward higher speeds.
______________________________
Capital Vala.Royal Palace.
The Mahadevi was awake—unusual for this hour, but pregnancy rarely allowed for comfort.
She stepped out briefly, taking in the cool night air and eating something light, before returning to the bedchamber.
Inside, Indra slept undisturbed, sprawled across the large bed like a child who knew no worry.
She moved back to the bed—
Then paused.
BOOM.
A sound.
Not loud enough to wake someone.
But distinct. A distant boom.
She turned toward the window, then stepped out onto the balcony, scanning the horizon.
Nothing.
"What was that…?" she murmured.
After a moment, finding nothing, she turned back—
BOOM.
Then it came again.
And again. Not constant, but frequent. Almost rhythmic, not like she had even heard.
She stepped forward again, eyes narrowing, searching harder.
Still nothing.
Then—she snapped her fingers. A Shadow Agent appeared.
"What is that?" she asked.
"We do not know, Your Majesty," the figure replied.
Before she could respond, another appeared.
She turned to the newcomer.
"Your Majesty," the voice said, "please look to the eastern sky."
Both vanished as she turned her head.
At first—nothing.
Then—something.
Far off and faint, but something moving.
Her eyes widened.
She turned immediately and rushed inside.
"Indra—get up!"
She shook him.
He stirred, groaning slightly, still half asleep. "What is it…?"
"Get up. Now."
There was no room for refusal as she pulled him out of bed, the urgency in her voice snapping him awake. Within moments, she had him on the balcony.
"Look."
Indra followed her gaze.
At first, confusion.
Then—he saw it.
A streak of fire, cutting across the horizon.
Slow—but steady. And with it—that sound.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
"What is that…?" he asked.
"No one kno—" Bhadra began, then stopped mid-sentence.
Suspicion. Without another word, she turned and left the chamber.
Indra followed immediately.
They moved quickly through the halls, heading straight for Hamsa's quarters. The disturbance had already stirred Garuda awake; he stepped out and joined them without a word. One look at his mother's face told him he did not what to know what was to come.
As they reached the chamber and entered—Chotu was there.
The great feline stood near the entrance, low growl rumbling from his chest, a clear warning not to step further. But the moment the Mahadevi's gaze fell on him, the tiger stilled… then backed away, lowering himself slightly in submission.
They stepped inside and stopped.
They looked around and Hamsa wasn't there.
A brief silence. Then—
"Hamsadeva Varma!!" The Mahadevi's voice rang out, sharp with anger.
__________
Up in the sky Hamsa, now being the first ever being to cross the sound barrier in the world felt a chill down his spine.
He was supposed to be happy, but he coundn't.
He also felt as if he should return to the palace but something else told him not to.
So moved on.
__________
Ranga Kingdom
The fireball tore across the sky, swelling as it moved, dragging a long trail of dying flame behind it. With each passing moment, the thunder that followed began to fade—what had started as a violent roar now came in distant, uneven booms.
Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared—the fire vanished.
The sky returned to stillness. Dark. Silent.
"Maharani, please come inside. This may not be safe," a guard said, stepping forward, shield raised, spear drawn.
The formation tightened instantly.
Guards closed in around her, forming a living wall of steel. Archers moved into position a short distance away, bows drawn, arrows angled upward. A guru who accompanied the Maharani also followed them. The servants were ushered back, secured within the inner ring.
No one spoke as time stretched.
Even the air felt tense.
Then—
"Hello there." {Speaking in ENGLISH}
The voice came from above.
Every head snapped upward.
A figure hovered in the sky.
"Loose!"
The archers released without hesitation. Arrows sliced through the air in a deadly volley, while the Guru stepped forward, unleashing sharp, cutting bursts of mana toward the figure.
"Wow…" Hamsa said. Yeah that one was on me. He though.
The arrows stopped.
Suspended mid-air—just short of him.
Then, one by one—they dropped.
The mana attacks struck him—and disappeared.
Absorbed, as if they had never existed.
"Calm down," he added, almost amused. "Is this how you welcome your Maharani's grandson?"
Shock rippled through the camp.
Before anyone could react, he descended—slow, controlled—touching the ground as lightly as if he had simply stepped down from a ledge.
A guard rushed forward, attempting to restrain him.
Hamsa moved once.
A clean, effortless motion.
The man hit the ground hard—unconscious before he even realized what had happened.
Weapons tightened. Bodies shifted. The tension snapped taut.
Then—
Hamsa reached up and removed his helmet.
His face was revealed. In all its detail.
Silence fell again.
Heavier this time.
No one moved.
Except Maharani Chandana.
She stepped forward—past the guards, past the drawn weapons—and stopped directly in front of him.
Up close, she saw it.
The faint strain in his posture. The slight sway. The exhaustion creeping in beneath the surface. And his eyes which were flickering a little finally were back to normal also showed he was tired.
She raised her hand.
And without ceremony—began inspecting him.
Her fingers pressed into his cheeks, stretching them slightly. She turned his face side to side, tugged lightly at his ears, even pulled at his lips—as if confirming he was real.
"Hamsa?" she asked softly.
"Yesh."
The word came out muffled, distorted by her grip.
"You look just like her…" she said, her voice distant now, her fingers tracing his features as memory overtook her expression.
Hamsa let out a small breath, the strain finally catching up.
"Grandmother… can we go inside?" he said, more steadily now, though the fatigue showed.
She paused, as if returning from somewhere far away, then nodded.
"Come."
She turned and led him toward the tent.
The guards parted immediately, though their eyes never left him—alert, uncertain, still trying to make sense of what they had just witnessed.
As they walked, Hamsa glanced back.
The guard he had struck still lay on the ground.
Oi… someone check on that guy. I might've overdone it, Hamsa muttered internally.
[Why me…] Adi groaned.
His spiritual form manifested briefly—unseen by all—and drifted toward the fallen guard.
Inside the tent, the atmosphere settled.
Maharani Chandana took her seat while Hamsa removed his armor, the dasis assisting him piece by piece. Once free of it, he remained in his T-shirt and long pants—strangely out of place in such a setting—and sat across from her.
Refreshments were brought.
And they began to talk.
At first, it was light—daily routines, minor irritations, familiar complaints. Gradually, the conversation deepened—domestic affairs, politics, the state of their lands.
Yet somehow—it never stopped feeling personal.
At some point, a thought crossed Hamsa's mind.
Why is it so easy to talk to her?
They had been exchanging letters for years, ever since he first met her husband, his maternal grandfather.
But this—this was their first real conversation face to face.
And yet, there was no awkwardness.
No distance.
He found himself… at ease.
Was it because there was so little left unsaid? There wasn't much about him—aside from his reincarnation—that he hadn't already shared.
Or was it because he didn't know when he'd get another chance like this?
Or… because he knew he wouldn't see her often again?
He didn't know.
And for once—he didn't try to.
He let the thought pass. And simply stayed in the moment.
{Near the end of their chat.}
"So, you will be leaving for Taxila soon then?" Chandana asked.
"Yes. I want to get there before the year starts, so I've got... a little over a month, give or take," Hamsa said, taking a sip of fruit juice. "Plan is to use the extra time for inspections and what not."
"And after that, do you intend to travel to the Parthian Empire yourself, or will you send someone in your stead?" Chandana continued.
"I'll go myself. If our information is right, then the enemy is a steppe tribe from the Far East. That's reason enough to be there in person instead of just reading about it afterward," Hamsa replied.
Maharani Chandana exhaled softly—caught somewhere between relief and disappointment.
"I heard that your future bride, Rajkumari Shirin, will be there as well," she said.
"Yeah, that's what I've been told. She'll be there the whole time I am," Hamsa said. "Apparently, she left earlier—distance and all—so she's probably already on the road." He paused briefly before adding, "Why?"
"Oh, nothing of consequence. I simply wished to confirm," Chandana said, reaching for dry fruits. "Tell me—are you looking forward to it? From what I have observed, both in person and through your letters, you do not seem to keep a courtesan… nor any other private attachment. I was merely curious about my grandson's surroundings."
Hamsa's expression tightened slightly—like he'd rather be anywhere else in that moment—but he answered anyway.
"It's a political marriage," he said plainly. "So I'm not really expecting anything out of it. And as for the rest… I've never really been that interested." He gave a small shrug. "Plus, being around me isn't exactly… comfortable. More trouble than it's worth, honestly."
"And why would you say that?" Chandana asked, her tone sharpening, as if she were offended.
"My mana, for one," Hamsa said. "You already know it's… a bit excessive. Capacity, control—all of that. Sounds great on paper, but it comes with its own set of problems."
As he spoke, he eased his hold over it—just a little.
The change was immediate.
The air inside the tent grew heavy, pressing down on everyone present. The guards instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons. The dasis stiffened, discomfort clear on their faces, their fingers curling into their palms hard enough to leave marks.
The Maharani felt it too—but unlike the others, her own mana well was deep enough that it didn't truly unsettle her.
"You see?" Hamsa said calmly. "That's me holding back. Back at the palace, it's worse—about twice this. People get used to it after a while, so they don't react as much…" He paused, glancing around briefly. "But that feeling? It doesn't really go away."
"Besides, even setting that aside… I've been told—more than once—that being around me is a pain in the ass. Most girls wouldn't even consider it after the first few interactions," Hamsa added, letting out a dry laugh at the memory.
After that, an awkward silence settled over the tent. It lingered for a few moments before Hamsa broke it.
"Well, I should get going," he said, rising to his feet. "Traveling during the day isn't exactly an option for me. And I didn't inform anyone at the palace that I'd be gone."
Maharani Chandana looked faintly dejected, though she nodded in understanding as she stood as well. At her signal, a dasi stepped forward, carrying a bracelet—one identical to the one Hamsa wore on his left wrist—resting atop a small cushion.
The Maharani took it and handed it to him.
"As you requested," she said.
Hamsa accepted it and examined it briefly. The bracelet was crafted from some of the finest mana crystals found on the continent—its quality obvious even at a glance.
"Thanks, Grandmother," he said, slipping it onto his right wrist.
He then bent down and touched her feet in respect, receiving her blessing. Straightening, he reached for his suit and began putting it on.
As he adjusted it, he spoke again.
"By the way… Grandmother," he said, correcting himself mid-sentence, "I sensed a group—about fifty pr so men—on the road back to the capital. Are they part of your guard?"
Maharani Chandana turned to one of the guards, who appeared to be the captain. He gave a firm shake of his head. She looked back at Hamsa.
"No," she said.
Before she could continue, Hamsa spoke again.
"Good. Then take them out on your way back," he said casually. "I'll deal with them before I leave. I'll try not to kill them… but no promises."
A stunned silence followed. One of the guards looked ready to object, but the Maharani raised a hand, stopping him.
"If you are certain of your safety, then do as you will," she said firmly. "But do not—under any circumstances—allow even a scratch to come upon you."
Hamsa nodded as his helmet was placed on.
I'd better not lose even a single hair, he thought dryly. Something tells me if I did, she'd deal with me before the hair even hit the ground.
"Don't worry, Grandmother," he said aloud, a hint of reassurance in his tone.
----------------
The next day, as they made their way back to the capital, they found exactly what Hamsa had mentioned.
A band of men waited along the road.
From a distance, they looked like little more than common bandits. But upon later inspection more was found.
But right now there was something that had their eyes and minds occupied.
The camp was gone—reduced to blackened ash. What remained smoldered faintly, the air thick with the acrid stench of burnt wood… and something far worse beneath it.
Of the fifty or so Hamsa had sensed, only forty-two remained alive.
They were not restrained. Not wounded. Not even resisting.
They were simply… broken.
Men lay scattered across the ground, bodies rigid, eyes wide and unblinking. Their faces were frozen in expressions that did not belong to the living—mouths half-open, as if the last thing they had tried to do was scream, only for the sound to die before it could escape.
There were almost no visible injuries. Just faint bruising here and there. Nothing that could explain death.
Yet three of them were unmistakably gone.
It looked less like they had been killed… and more like something inside them had simply given out.
The rest of the scene was worse.
Six patches of darkened earth stood apart from the others. The ground there was soaked, the soil churned and stained so deeply it had turned almost black. What little remained in those spots was… unrecognizable—fragments of organs, muscles and bones scattered as though whatever had been there had been crushed, twisted, and forced apart beyond any natural limit.
It didn't look like a battle.
It looked like something had taken them apart… piece by piece.
Like a child, bored, pulling apart a toy just to see what was inside.
No one spoke.
Even the guards—men who had seen war—stood in silence, their breaths heavy and gulping.
For a brief moment, a single thought passed through all of them:
This was supposed to be a battle.
But no battle had happened.
Then it should have been a massacre.
But it wasn't.
There had been no struggle. No resistance. No fight at all.
Only the result remained.
A demonstration in their eyes.
----------------
Up In The Sky.
Hamsa pushed himself back up to the speed he was both comfortable and confident maintaining.
It was well beyond the sound barrier, though he had no exact measure of how fast he was actually moving.
So he improvised.
Adi tracked the time—seconds and minutes—while Hamsa cross-referenced it with known map distances to estimate how far he had traveled. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to approximate his speed.
High above, the world stretched out beneath him in a slow curve.
And ahead—he could already see it.
The faint glow of the sun, just beginning to rise beyond the horizon.
Hamsa accelerated.
At this altitude, he knew he would see the sunrise earlier than anyone on the ground—not by a small margin, but enough to matter. Minutes gained simply by being higher.
And right now, minutes mattered.
He adjusted his course.
Instead of heading straight for the capital, he veered east first—aligning himself with the upper air currents—before planning a wide arc back toward his destination.
It added distance.
But the winds up here were faster, steadier.
And that made all the difference.
As he continued flying, Adi spoke.
[Hey… boss.]
The word alone was enough.
Hamsa's attention sharpened instantly. Adi only called him that when something had gone very wrong.
What is it? Hamsa asked calmly, keeping his tone steady. Panic wouldn't help. It never did.
[You remember how you told me to make sure the sonic boom wouldn't be heard from the ground—or at least be faint enough to go unnoticed… well—] Adi trailed off, his voice tightening.
Hamsa didn't interrupt.
He already had a feeling where this was going.
What did you do?
[Well… when we were approaching the capital—after crossing the mountains—I suggested increasing altitude, just to be safe.]
Yes. And? Hamsa said, though his suspicion was already forming.
A brief pause. Then—
[It… was actually louder than expected.]
Silence followed as Adi waited.
For a reaction. A scolding. Anything.
None came. And that, that made it worse.
________________
Capital Vala.Royal District — Royal Residence, Hamsa Chambers.
It was only minutes before the first rays of the sun would rise over the capital, brushing light across the dark sky, when Hamsa returned to the palace.
He landed directly on his balcony, concealing himself by bending light around his body until he vanished from sight. As his feet touched the stone, he formed a subtle barrier—a careful manipulation of mana—to dampen any sound. The faint clink of his chainmail armor died before it could exist.
Silently, he stepped inside his chamber.
The room was dark, but he didn't need sight to know he wasn't alone. He could sense Chotu's presence immediately. That alone should have been comforting.
He released his armor using mana, letting it slip off his body piece by piece before guiding it neatly onto its stand against the rear wall. The routine was smooth, practiced. Then he paused, bracing himself.
Right on cue, Chotu leapt at him.
Hamsa caught him, steadying himself as the tiger pressed in for affection—nuzzling, rubbing, demanding attention as always. Hamsa indulged him, running a hand along his fur, but something felt… off.
A quiet tension lingered.
His instincts stirred uneasily. Adi's earlier confession echoed in his mind, sharpening that feeling into certainty.
After a moment, once Chotu seemed satisfied, Hamsa gently pushed him aside and stood. He was exhausted—every part of him wanted to collapse into bed—but he forced himself toward the door. If he skipped his morning routine entirely, it would draw suspicion. Better to endure at least an hour before giving in to rest.
That was the plan.
Convincing himself it would work, he stepped outside.
And stopped.
Waiting for him were not the usual dasis, dasas, or guards.
His mother sat calmly in a chair, still in her nightgown. His father stood beside her, arms folded, watching.
His mother smiled.
"Namaste, dear," she said gently. "Did you sleep well?"
The last trace of confidence drained from Hamsa's face.
He didn't need to guess anymore.
He was definitely in trouble.
_______________
_______________
Please read the AUTHOR's note for updates. At least this one time.