The classroom looked nothing like a place of learning, but more like a ruined battlefield.

  Every bench was overturned, all books ripped apart into shreds. The blackboard was coated with half-erased layers of chalk— curses and sketches of crowns.

  The ceiling fan squeaked unevenly, matching the rhythm of the chaos going on below.

  Dozens of boys in half-tucked shirts and loosened ties were packed in the room, cheering and jumping like it was a circus right there.

  "Throw him already!"

  "Let's make him fly!"

  "Right on the pile, guys!"

  Two of the students held Vivek Kaushal— one by his wrists, the other by his ankles— and swung him like a ragdoll, his glasses nearly falling off.

  His voice cracked with fear.

  "Please! Don't— stop— please!"

  The mob didn't care to listen. Their laughter slowly fed on his panic, his desperation leaving unnoticed.

  And then—

  A single, low sound cut through it all.

  It wasn't a scream or an order— just a word.

  "Stop. Now."

  All heads turned.

  The laughter stopped like a switch had been turned off right at that moment.

  At the center of the class, where the teacher's desk once stood, rose a throne— made of just desks and broken chairs stacked in a crude monument.

  On top of the throne, there sat the king, with one leg crossed— Vijay Chauhan.

  His hands hovered over his set of rings and chains as he began to wear them one by one.

  He didn't shout. He didn't have to.

  The air around him tightened— the same presence that made the boys straighten without even knowing why.

  His uniform was hung over in a corner, the white bandage wrapped around his arm and the tie in his pocket like it was an afterthought.

  "Put him down," Vijay said softly.

  In an instant, the boys obeyed him. Vivek fell hard on the floor with a loud thud.

  Vijay leaned forward, his chin resting on his uninjured arm. The flickering light occasionally cast jagged shadows on his face— the same way he split between calm and cruelty.

  Vivek wasted no time and crawled on his knees until he reached the base of the stacked desks.

  "Vijay sir, I need your help." Vivek's voice trembled like glass, "They told me it was the real paper— I spent everything on it. They lied, Vijay! You have the power, you have the way to fix it!"

  "Help you?" Vijay's voice turned even soft, like a tone coming out of amusement, "You want me to help you?"

  Vivek's glasses caught the dim light. Behind them, his eyes were red and swollen, his fingers digging into the floor.

  "Yes— yes, please," Vivek began to speak in a broken voice as his glasses slid off, "I will do anything— anything you say—"

  The room waited.

  Vijay didn't move for a long moment, while all that was heard was the hum of the fan. Then, he rose— slow, deliberate, like a lion stretching before devouring his prey.

  "Anything I say?"

  He hopped down from his throne with a feline grin and landed right in front of Vivek, their faces inches apart. As soon as he landed effortlessly, he mirrored Vivek's posture, mocking him, and pressed his palms together like a parody of a prayer.

  "Please help me, Vijay sir. I will do anything."

  His voice turned high-pitched and pitiful, earning cruel chuckles from everyone standing there.

  He started to straighten slowly, the same amusement drained out of his face.

  "Then lick my shoe."

  The laughter stopped.

  Even the most loyal members of the Eternal Order seemed to hesitate at the words they heard.

  Vivek froze under his own shallow breath. Around him, the glow of phones lit up like a circle of spotlights— everyone recording, every eye waiting.

  Tears blurred Vivek's vision. The room, the shadows, the phones— all melted into a blur of humiliation. He looked up at Vijay, and then at his polished black shoe.

  Without any other choice, he crawled forward.

  On step. Then another. And the next.

  His tongue came out with a hint of hesitation.

  The phones clicked. Whispers echoed around.

  And just before his tongue could touch Vijay's black boots—

  THUD!

  A brutal kick slammed into his gut.

  All the air seemed to be sucked out of his lungs.

  He flew backwards, colliding with the door so hard that it rattled on its hinges.

  He fell, gasping, curling around his stomach like the ragdoll was now shattered.

  Vijay didn't even blink.

  He just tilted his head back— and laughed.

  It stared out low and quiet. Then it grew.

  A laugh that sounded too alive, too wild, too cruel as it mocked the sheer existence of Vivek.

  The rest of the Eternal Order joined until the classroom echoed with Vijay's hysteria.

  Vivek pressed his palms on his ears, but it didn't seem to help. The madness of the laughter had now crawled inside him, rattling through his ribs.

  Vijay walked over— one hand buried in his pocket and coming out to brush off dust from his sleeves the next moment.

  He stopped beside Vivek's shivering form, his shadow swallowing Vivek whole.

  "Power," he said coldly, "It isn't given for granted." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a sharp whisper. "It's snatched. And if you crawl now—" He smirked, "You'll never get on your feet."

  And finally, without a second thought, he spat on Vivek's face. The saliva hit his cheek and slid down, mixing with tears.

  ——————————————

  Even the laughter in the store room could be heard till the corridor— now like headquarters for the group.

  Kritika slammed her hand on the table, coughing and wheezing even after she had spat her Vada Pav— a spicy Indian street food, where a bun is stuffed with fried potato.

  "Tarun, what the hell did you put in this?!"

  Her tongue was practically still on fire. The half-eaten Vada Pav was on the table like a cursed relic, overflowing with red sauce.

  Tarun, who was leaning against the wall in a corner, was doubled over, tears running down his cheeks out of laughter of what he did.

  Yug had turned away, trying and miserably failing to hold back his laughter.

  Rishabh sat with folded arms. He wore that wide, comedic and goofy smile— one one that came out once in a blue moon.

  "I told you to have a small bite." He said dryly.

  Kritika pointed at Tarun with fury and watery eyes, everyone watching her grab a bottle of water and chug it down like she was stranded on a desert.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "You psychopath! That was molten lava!"

  The warmth in the air was very rare— the one that came due to victory, adrenaline, and most importantly, the absence of fear.

  Ronak had joined them for a brief moment, just to see the examination results, until he was taken away by Harinarayan. His wound had reached such a critical moment that it needed the most care. The doctor had told him to rest— something he hated with all his heart.

  "Ronak made a good escape," Yug spoke between helpless giggles, "Tarun would have fed him with pepper soup."

  The room burst into laughter again, each voice overlapping the other— the sound seemingly cleansing to the soul.

  But all of a sudden—

  SLAM!

  The door opened so violently that the laughter choked mid-air.

  Vivek stumbled in, uniform covered in dust and sweat, his eyes swollen and red. He didn't even seem to breathe before he ran and collapsed straight at Tarun's feet.

  The entire room froze.

  Kritika's hand hovered in the air, her water bottle raised above.

  Rishabh's face hardened, his eyes narrowing in shock and disbelief.

  Yug just stood there silently, looking down at the boy who couldn't raise his face.

  "Tarun— please!" Vivek's voice broke apart, trembling. "I just wanted to make my mother proud. They said it— they said that the papers were real!"

  Vivek's words came out like bricks falling froma crumbling building.

  "I had to take all of her savings, Tarun. It was real— EdBridge Tutorials promised. I just wanted to pass. I wanted to—" His words cracked, collapsing into hiccuped sobs.

  Kritika set her bottle down and crouched near him. "Listen, we can handle this. Tell you mother. Or, go to the police. We can fix this—"

  "Fix this?" Rishabh cut in sharply, no softness in his tone. "He stole his mother's savings, Kritika. That's not a cute mistake. It's a crime."

  "Rishabh," Yug said, his voice calm but firm, "not now." He placed a hand on Vivek's shoulder, the boy still refusing to leave Tarun's feet. "You'll be fine, right? You can study again, get up, and actually make your mother proud. Life will not always be harsh on you."

  The three of them began to talk all at once— Kritika trying to comfort him, Rishabh criticising him and Yug arguing back. The room spun into voices, one bleeding into the other.

  "Enough." Tarun said.

  The others fell silent.

  He crouched in front of Vivek, his tone low and steady. "Tell me the name again."

  Vivek wiped his face, eyes flicking upwards, trembling out of fear. "Ed— EdBridge Tutorials."

  Rishabh was the first one to react, his eyes widening. "Wait— EdBridge? As in BLC's subsidiary? That's Vikrant Chauhan's, Vijay's father's company."

  It was like all the colour drained out of Tarun's face. The name hit him like a speeding bullet.

  His eyes went hollow, the bright life in them fading into cold blankness.

  The warmth, humour and human part in him— all of it, just gone in one breath.

  He rose to his feet, slow and steady, his voice barely above a whisper.

  "Everyone, get to work."

  "Tarun," Rishabh began, frowning, "you don't have to be a saviour—"

  "I said, GET TO WORK!"

  ——————————————

  Quiet tension filled the store room, the air thick with worry and urgency.

  There was not a voice for a while, except for the faint hum of the fan above their head.

  Yug knelt at the center table, unrolling a large folded map of Lucknow, the capital city of Uttar Pradesh.

  The edges were curled up from overuse, but three red marks stood out— the three bright circles marking branches of EdBridge.

  "There are three centers across the city," Yug muttered, his voice steady and loud. "One in Hazratganj, another in Gomtinagar and the last in Alambagh. All under the same name."

  Rishabh sat opposite to him with a laptop balanced on his knees, the faint glow lighting his face blue. His fingers clicked rapidly, opening and closing tabs, scanning every article.

  "The company's too clean," he finally said after a really long time. "No shady news. No bad reviews. Someone's keeping the surface spotless."

  Kritika hovered around in another corner, a phonebook lying beside her. She kept flipping pages restlessly as each number she dialed resulted in failure— her face shifting between calm and frustration.

  "Half of the numbers don't exist," she said, hanging up another call. "Some say it's a wrong connection. Most of them don't pick up the call."

  Tarun sat on the floor, holding Vivek's phone with the EdBridge online group open. Dozens of students, yet none of them messaged.

  Only one profile— a verified chatbot— posted messages like a machine.

  Tarun still scrolled, his face completely unreadable.

  Vivek sat beside Tarun, sipping on a glass of water with his trembling hands. His hair still sticking from the earlier sprint, he began to speak with a shaken voice.

  "There are… two things I should tell you," he started with a faint tone. "Every week, they change our location. Like… once I go to Alambagh and then… to Hazratganj."

  Yug looked up. "So no fixed classes. And no one even questioned it once?"

  He shook his head with fear. "Uhh… no. And the other thing," he took a deep breath. "There is no teacher— just a… speaker. The voice teaches us, and solves doubts. It's a real person… but we don't know who and where he is."

  For a few moments, no one spoke again.

  Then, all eyes turned towards Tarun, who finally got up with a tighter grip on the phone.

  "We'll start with the closest clue to us. A single thread can help us a lot."

  Time seemed to stop, and all of them processing what to do next. And then, Rishabh's fingers pressed down on one of the marks.

  "Hazratganj," he said confidently. "That's where we begin now."

  ——————————————

  The streets of Hazratganj shimmered with scorching heat. The noon sun poured over the narrow lanes, making the asphalt on the road glisten with the sweat of the numerous people.

  The group has been walking for over thirty minutes— backpacks slung low, faces drained with fatigue.

  But finally, their journey came to a halt.

  In front of them stood what was supposed to be a branch of EdBridge Tutorials.

  But there was nothing— no doors, no signboards, not even the building.

  Only a construction site stretched before them, eaten by cement mounds and scaffolding.

  Labourers worked shirtless under the sun, hauling bricks and shouting orders amidst the clatter of metal.

  The wind carried the sting of dry cement and iron. But on the other hand, Vivek was frozen, his eyes wide and face twisted with disbelief.

  "No— no this can't be…"

  He ran a few steps ahead, stumbling over scattered gravel.

  His tired feet tracked around the same path, and his desperate eyes anticipated as if the place would appear magically.

  "It was right here. Here! I came here last week— the green gates were right here!"

  Due to all the commotion, a few of the workers turned around. One of them, wearing a yellow helmet, leaned on a stuck shovel.

  "What are you kids doing here?"

  "Wasn't there a tuition center here?" Kritika stepped forward, wiping her face with a handkerchief. "EdBridge Tutorials?"

  The worker raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused.

  "What? Kid, this place has been under construction for the past two months. There is going to be an apartment."

  Rishabh blinked, parting his lips and mumbling under his breath. "Two months? What have we dragged ourselves into?"

  Vivek just stood in silence, chest rising and falling rapidly. The sound of hammers and labourers filled in the silence, hammering the truth in his mind— all erased, like it wasn't there.

  "This isn't just a scam. This is a whole network that goes too deep." Tarun crouched down. His fingers surfaced around a piece of metal before he tossed it away.

  Then, finally, from behind them, Yug's voice broke the awkward moment— surprisingly calm, almost amused.

  He smirked faintly, one eyebrow raised.

  "I know someone who can untangle networks in the blink of an eye. You all know him too well."

  It took the group a heartbeat to understand where Yug's thoughts were heading towards.

  And then, the realisation struck them hard.

  Rishabh's eyes widened. Tarun's jaw tightened. Kritika blinked. Vivek just looked, confused.

  And all of a sudden, they spoke at once.

  "Oh fu—"

  ——————————————

  A boy sat at the back of the same room where Vivek went to ask for immediate help.

  He flipped through pages of a notebook— crosses on equations and half completed work sprawled across the pages.

  But then, something slipped out.

  A sticky note, folded twice, landed on his desk.

  He frowned and unfolded it to read the neat handwriting:

  "Meet me at the washroom.

  Code:

  1-1-1

  4:3:4

  Take Him Down

  — from the guy who's way smarter than you"

  For a moment, he just stared at it, blinking once.

  A slow smirk spread across his face— equal parts of curiosity and irritation.

  He shut the notebook loudly, tucked the note in his pocket and rose up from the chair.

  As he stood, the chaos of the boys in the room calmed down. A few of the boys nodded respectfully. The rest of them smiled awkwardly.

  But once he stepped into the corridor, the respect turned into something else.

  The same eyes that looked up in respect now glared at him with disgust.

  Teachers averted their faces and students stepped back not to get in his way.

  But the boy didn't slow down.

  He walked as if none of it mattered— a grin of quiet arrogance fixed on his face.

  When he reached the washroom, he looked around once, and muttered to himself— almost on the verge of frustration.

  "1-1-1, 4:3:4, Take Him Down"

  He pushed the door, and added under his breath, his voice bouncing off the tiles.

  "Why did you have to add salt to my wounds."

  A voice could be faintly heard from nearby.

  "Because you had to be reminded that your plan— the one you were proud of— was deciphered in fifteen minutes"

  And then, from behind a cracked mirror, Rishabh stepped forward— his voice cold, calculated.

  The light flickered once overhead.

  The boy turned fully, and at last, his face glowed under the light— Manav Prakash.

  "Oh, it was you," Manav said, gritting his teeth.

  "The fat smart rat is out of his study room. Who else would be kind enough to remind it again?"

  Rishabh leaned against the wall, his face blank, yet normal.

  "You really think anyone in the school has a brain to pull it off? Your plan was clever, Manav, but predictable too."

  "Predictable? You really think life is all about puzzles and codes… and those thick books. Solving one code doesn't get you power."

  "What power?" Rishabh shot back. "I call that Vijay's leash around your neck."

  Manav's grin faltered a bit, but returned sharper.

  "You just stand in corners, scribbling things that'll never get you any bit of strength. It's me who knows how to get recognition."

  "Strength without any direction will be chaos. And I want to give your strength a path. I need your help. You're better than a puppet dancing under Vijay's name." Rishabh spoke slowly.

  "And what are you, huh? A moral compass nobody listens to? You're just another kid who thinks he will make a difference. The only different you need to make is in your weight."

  "At least, I don't need to play a thug to make a difference." Rishabh's body stiffened, his words portraying his anger. "I use my brain— the same thing you sold out for Vijay's validation."

  The words hit harder than Rishabh actually expected to play out.

  Manav's grin froze— his hands clenched behind his back.

  A long pause.

  Then Manav, now serious, exhaled.

  "Fine. You want help? I'm in for it. But I have two conditions you need to fulfill."

  Rishabh folded his arms.

  "Go on."

  Manav lifted two fingers.

  "First— Vijay doesn't hear about it. Not a single word. You whisper his name, it's a gone case."

  "And the second?"

  "When time comes," Manav's voice was low, his grin returning, "you'll owe me a favour. I will ask something— and no is not an option."

  Rishabh hesitated for a moment, but nodded at the very next one.

  "Deal."

  Rishabh extended his hand.

  Manav didn't bother to take it.

  He just turned and walked away, gesturing Rishabh to guide him the way ahead.

  ——————————————

  The heat in the room hadn’t faded since morning. The ceiling fan groaned like it was dragging itself through mud, and the light flickered every few seconds.

  Tarun paced near the table, his hands pressed to his temples.

  Yug sat on the edge of the desk, watching him silently.

  Kritika was in the corner, trying to calm a shivering Vivek, who looked like he hadn’t slept since the morning.

  “Manav’s not getting in,” Tarun finally said, his voice flat but hard. “We can’t trust him.”

  Yug sighed, leaning forward. “Rishabh brought him for a reason. He wouldn’t do that unless he saw something.”

  “Yeah?” Tarun snapped back. “And what did he see — another time I fight all of Eternal something?”

  “Tarun—”

  He cut him off, voice rising. “He’s Vijay’s guy. He’s been their shadow since day one. I’d rather trust poison than a filthy rat like him.”

  The words barely left his mouth before the door creaked open.

  Rishabh walked in first, his expression blank, eyes flicking from Tarun to Yug.

  Behind him, Manav stepped in — hands in pockets, that half-smirk on his face that carried both mockery and confidence.

  He stopped just inside the door, staring directly at Tarun.

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said casually.

  No one moved.

  Manav brushed past him, threw his bag on the table, and without missing a beat, added, “Now, since we’re done with the drama— get me a laptop, chilled water, and not these dead faces. Chop-chop.”

  Yug frowned, straightening. “You think you can just walk in here and start ordering everyone?”

  Manav’s grin didn’t fade. He turned slowly to face Yug.

  “You want me to leave?”

  The question was so casual it almost stung like a needle.

  Yug clenched his jaw, muttered something, and turned away, Manav's face still making him feel the same like it used to.

  “Didn’t think so,” Manav said, pulling the chair and opening the laptop. “Now, let’s get to work.”

  Rishabh handed him the system silently and moved to the corner. The only sounds were the fan and the frantic tapping of keys.

  Minutes passed. Then another hour.

  Kritika tried to make Vivek drink water.

  The others just stood there, arms crossed, pretending not to care but glancing every now and then at what Manav was doing.

  Finally—

  “Bingo.”

  Manav’s voice sliced through the quiet.

  Everyone looked up.

  He leaned back in the chair, spinning it halfway around.

  “There are tons of complaints,” he said, scrolling through pages. “Same kind of scam. Students paid up for fake papers. All of it started exactly around the time this little freak—” he jerked his thumb at Vivek “—got scammed too.”

  Vivek flinched. Kritika shot Manav a sharp look.

  “Don’t call him that.”

  Manav ignored her completely. “All the FIRs, all the social media posts— they were buried. Someone cleaned the mess before it reached the top.”

  Rishabh adjusted his collar, frowning. “The same time BLC bought EdBridge.”

  Manav nodded. “Exactly. It lines up too perfectly. Someone up there knew what they were doing. They’ve done this before, a professional."

  He paused, eyes narrowing as he typed again.

  “And there’s something else. Whoever’s behind this doesn’t leave real names — only proxy codes. Dummy servers, false trails, digital smoke.”

  Tarun blinked, looking confused. “Proxy what now?”

  Manav rolled his eyes. “Fake names, genius.”

  “Oh.” Tarun rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You could’ve just said that.”

  “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Manav struck back with a smirk.

  He scrolled again, showing some proxy names on the screen.

  “They left these codes all over. Rishabh would love this crap. He’s got a fetish for codes."

  “You see codes, Rishabh, and you start mas—” Manav trailed off, lifting his hand and making an exaggerated back-and-forth motion with his wrist, his grin widening like a kid caught doing something… on purpose.

  “You absolute pig,” Kritika muttered, while Yug tried not to start throwing his hands at him.

  Rishabh didn’t even look up from the clues that lay in front of him. “These things work. Unlike your jokes.”

  Manav clicked another file open, still maintaining his attitude. “Anyway, these aren’t random. So, to figure out who’s behind this, we’ll have to check all three EdBridge centers.”

  Vivek’s voice came out small and unsure. “W–What do you mean? It isn't over yet?”

  "We have just begun, little scaredy cat."

  Manav finally looked at him and grinned, sharp and confident.

  "Welcome to scam season, suckers."