January 4, 2026. 02:15 AM.
An abandoned cold storage warehouse in Old Dhaka. No matter the temperature outside, the interior of this massive warehouse has dropped to sub-zero degrees. A thin layer of frost has glazed the walls, reflecting the neon lights in a grotesque, haunting shimmer. Behind the heavy plastic curtains hanging from rusted iron hooks, a macabre drama is about to be staged.
Tied to an iron chair before me sits Rudra's right-hand man—'Kalu.' This man isn't just a loyal henchman; he is the mastermind of this city's 'Digital Terror.' The IP address used to upload that video of my mother belonged to him.
Kalu's face is a bloody mess. His left cheek is swollen and bruised deep blue. Yet, that arrogant spark remains in his eyes, as if he knows Rudra will eventually come to his rescue.
"Mame, we're connected!"
Bikash is perched on a wobbly stool nearby. In the blue glow of his laptop, his face looks almost alien. He's breaking Dark Web codes with one hand while munching on cheap chips with the other. To this 2026 tech-genius, a human life is nothing more than code in a video game.
"Aryan, Kalu's iPhone 14 Pro Max is now mine," Bikash said, chewing slowly. "His encrypted cloud contains enough filth to bury half the VIPs of this city alive. And listen... the gateway to Rudra's main server is now open. I just transferred 30 million Taka from Kalu's personal account into our secret crypto-wallet."
The moment Bikash finished, I stepped in front of Kalu. He was breathing heavily, his sweat and blood freezing together on the floor.
"The money isn't the point, Kalu," I said, my voice as calm as an echo from a grave. "Money is just paper; it comes and goes. But you laid a hand on my mother's dignity... how much will you pay for that?"
"Aryan... you've gone mad!" Kalu tried to grin through his teeth. "A Grade 8 brat like you... someone who couldn't even afford his father's liquor... stealing Rudra's money? You think you'll see the sun tomorrow? Rudra Bhai will burn this city to the ground!"
I didn't reply. Methodically, I pulled the titanium brass knuckles from my bag. As I slipped them on, the cold touch of the metal sent a surge of adrenaline through my blood. Every bone in my fingers felt as hard as iron.
I stepped forward and forced Kalu's right hand onto the table. He tried to scream, but I muffled his mouth with an old rag.
"Rudra needs a message," I whispered.
I raised my brass-knuckled hand and slammed it down onto Kalu's fingers with everything I had.
'CRUNCH-CRACK!'
The sound of shattering bone echoed through the cold storage. Kalu's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. His body arched like a bow in sheer agony, but no sound escaped. Bikash had already cranked up the volume on a heavy metal track on his laptop.
"Mame, that's one finger down! Nine more to go," Bikash said nonchalantly. "And hey, the money is confirmed in our account. Congratulations, Aryan—you are officially Dhaka's youngest multimillionaire."
The money meant nothing to me. All I could see was the night of January 1st. That room broken by my mother's tears.
I grabbed Kalu's collar and hauled him up. I delivered a solid lead-hook to his nose. The titanium knuckles crushed his nasal bone, driving it inward. Blood splattered across my glasses. I took them off. I didn't need them. To see this kind of hatred in the dark, the darkness in my heart was enough.
"Kalu, you die today," I whispered in his ear. "But it won't be that schoolboy who kills you. It'll be the failure of this system. Nihil will kill you."
Just then, the heavy iron door of the cold storage groaned open. The fog and bone-chilling wind from outside rushed in.
Out of the mist stepped a tall silhouette. Sara.
She held a blue file in one hand and a silenced Glock-17 in the other. She walked calmly toward Kalu's nearly lifeless body. There was no pity on her face—only a kind of demonic satisfaction.
"You're taking too long, Aryan," Sara said, glancing at her watch. Her 2026 smart-watch glowed in the dark. "Rudra's hitmen have already received the signal. They'll surround this area within five minutes. You need to get out."
Sara stepped closer and placed her hand on my cheek. Her fingers were ice-cold, but her touch felt electric. She used her thumb to wipe Kalu's blood from my face.
"Are you ready, Aryan? From today, it's not just Rudra; the entire state machinery will be after you. Stealing 30 million means you've reached into the heart of their system," Sara looked at me with piercing eyes.
I put my arm around Sara's waist. The mystery of her blue file and my blood-stained hands—together, they were giving birth to a terrifying power. "Sara, I'm ready. But my mother... she needs to be moved to safety by tomorrow morning."
Bikash closed his laptop and yawned. "Mame, it's all handled. I've already sent your mother out of the city in a private ambulance. With money, anything is possible in 2026! Now, it's our turn to run."
I took one last look at Kalu's motionless body. He was nothing but a heap of meat now. This message would shake the city to its core.
We stepped out of the warehouse. A pitch-black Audi was waiting. Bikash jumped into the driver's seat and the engine roared to life.
"Let's go, Mame! Life moves at a 30-million-Taka speed now! We're coming at 'em with first-class action and last-class comedy!"
The car vanished into the Dhaka fog. Behind us lay the innocent life Aryan had left behind—the brilliant Grade 8 student was gone. Aryan was dead. Now, there was only The Broken Nihil.
January 4. 04:00 AM.
The sun is rising over Dhaka, but in Aryan's sky, a rain of blood has just begun.