Inside the quiet expanse of the presidential chamber, Aditya Rajan pressed a hidden button beneath his grand oak desk. A subtle click echoed as a concealed wall panel slid open, revealing a secret chamber cloaked in sterile white light.
He stepped inside. Rows of sealed cases lined the walls like a silent archive, but at the center stood a single pedestal. Upon it, a pristine white coat hung like a relic of memory. A faint glow radiated from the symbol stitched onto its chest a complex crest formed by the intertwining of a spear, bow, shield, and sword.
Aditya ran his fingers slowly over the symbol, eyes distant. His hand paused at the chest pocket, where an old pair of spectacles rested—aged but preserved. He gently lifted them. The weight of years pressed into his palms.
A single tear fell from his eye, landing softly on the lens.
His voice trembled, caught between regret and resolve.
"I'm sorry for burdening you… please take care of my spectacles…"
The memory echoed like a whisper from a lifetime ago.
He closed his eyes, inhaled, and wiped away the tear.
A few feet away, neatly folded within a glass case, lay a formal political uniform. He approached, pressing a button to open the display. As the casing hissed open, he reached inside and rested his hand over the bow symbol stitched onto the chest of the jacket.
With quiet conviction, he took the coat, lifted it, and slid his arms through the sleeves.
His voice, this time steady:
"Let's start the countdown for Operation S.B.S."
----
Rathore stood firm on the stage, his voice cutting across the murmuring crowd.
"Let's name this mission as Operation S.B.S. Let me give an important note to you all: first, open your personal mission files. Understand this — the mission tasks and roles are assigned based not on your title, but on your level of involvement."
Ayaan quietly opened his file, but his mind couldn't focus. His thoughts spun, connecting pieces he had never fully understood until now.
"Based on your involvement, irrespective of your real position," he murmured to himself.
"It's about Project-M, right? Padma aunty always scolded me about my friendship with Dev… yet she was the one who told me about Project-M. Even though Dev is her son, she didn't reveal it to him. In the combat evaluations, even though I matched Rohit in long-range combat, only Rohit was selected into Project-M. What… what really is the meaning of Project-M?"
Lost in thought, Ayaan didn't realize Rathore's sharp gaze falling upon him.
In a commanding voice, Rathore shouted, "AYAAN RANADE!"
Ayaan snapped out of his trance, hurriedly stood up, flustered and embarrassed as dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Among the crowd, a group of young fighters wearing the same uniform observed silently. One youth murmured under his breath,
"Master Ranvijay, just as you said... The second prince stands. Not our king yet... but our teacher. As ordered, it's not yet time to reunite."
Dev chuckled at Ayaan's expense, earning a glare from Rathore, who barked, "DEV KOLLARI!"
Dev froze in place. Padma, sitting among the invited guests, sighed and rubbed her forehead in exasperation.
Rathore, noticing Bhairava among the uniformed group, sighed internally.
"Bhairava… are you satisfied now?"
The youth, Bhairava, simply gave a respectful nod.
With deep embarrassment, Ayaan and Dev sat back down.
Rathore resumed, his voice heavier now,
"We all know the tragedy of Numn University. But recently, from a warning issued by the third person I admire most — and who is also the president's most trusted ally — we discovered there's a possibility of another tragedy, just like what happened before."
An official seated in the back raised a hand.
"Captain Rathore, why are we acting based only on a possibility?"
Rathore answered calmly but firmly,
"Yes, only a possibility. But remember: this same person warned us about the danger to Numn University. We didn't listen then. And we all know the price we paid."
The room fell silent.
Suddenly, a man leaned lazily against a post, holding a shotgun and smirking.
"If this trusted ally is so important," the man sneered, "why not disclose his name?"
Rathore's eyes hardened.
"An uninvited trash insists on involving himself..." he muttered coldly.
The shotgun man laughed.
"Rudra, right? That 'most trusted ally' of the president? Who the hell cares — the man who vanished after the fall of the Shie—"
"RAAVAN!" Rathore's shout silenced the hall.
The tension cracked visibly.
Raavan raised his shotgun mockingly, aiming it at Rathore.
In an instant, the group of uniformed youths raised their rifles — all aimed at Raavan.
Ayaan recognized the man — Raavan — from the main gate argument weeks ago.
Raavan laughed again and strode toward Bhairava, eyes gleaming with provocation.
"You're Bhairava, right? Even before your master Ranvijay's official announcement as Vice President, you dare point rifles at me? What is it? Are you angry because I insulted your beloved Rathore? Or... because I mentioned the fall of…"
The word hung dangerously in the air.
Ayaan clenched his fists unconsciously, feeling the weight of Raavan's mockery—not just at Rathore or Bhairava—but something deeper… as if those insults pierced even into him.
----
Suddenly, Padma rose from her seat, mockingly laughing.
She strode forward, pulled out a sleek pistol, and pointed it directly at Raavan's forehead.
Looking sharply at Rathore, she asked with a smirk,
"Captain Rathore, can I kill this trash who's creating nuisance here?"
Raavan exhaled slowly, unbothered.
"I'm not interested in this operation anyway. I'm out."
Without lowering the gun, Padma coolly replied,
"No one was inviting you."
With a sigh, Raavan turned to leave. But as he passed Ayaan, he leaned in slightly and whispered with a smirk,
"Just like broken fragments of glass... this sniper really suits you, Ayaan."
Dev clenched his fists tightly, barely restraining himself.
Raavan disappeared from the hall.
Rathore bowed slightly toward everyone.
"Apologies for the disturbance. Now, let's focus on the main agenda — Operation S.B.S."
Standing tall, his voice rang with strength:
"Except for Dev and Ayaan, those who bear the sword symbol, you will combine forces with civilians and lead the perimeter security, according to your special training. Officer Padma will command your unit."
Turning to another group:
"Those bearing the bow symbol, follow my strategic orders on the final day."
Then, locking eyes with Ayaan:
"Those bearing the shield symbol, your task is special. You must be both offensive and defensive. Above all, you must protect President Aditya, who is placing himself as a guest judge on the final day of the Singing Competition."
He paused briefly and continued:
"Additionally—"
His tone sharpened toward Ayaan and the room grew still.
"We have already deployed two key players... and one main hidden trump card."
Someone among the crowd raised a hand and asked:
"What is the primary objective of this mission?"
Rathore's voice dropped lower, slow and deliberate:
"Just like our President Aditya's command — we must avoid harming innocent civilians. But most importantly, we must rescue the hidden survivors of the Numn University tragedy, before they fall into the hands of the organization behind that disaster..."
He looked across the hall.
"The organization most of the world still doesn't know exists—
The Hollow Pact."
Dev gritted his teeth, the fire of determination flashing through his eyes.
Meanwhile, Ayaan... froze.
His heart raced.
His breath tightened.
In that moment, a chilling memory returned —
—the shadow figure with the crimson radiating axe.
The deadly voice echoing inside him:
"Don't let the Hollow Pact kill you... because if they do, I will personally kill you."
Ayaan, with a faint tremble in his voice, barely audible, murmured to himself:
"If the Hollow Pact is real... then that shadow figure with the crimson axe... is real too."
With the return of Aditya's fierce confidence,
With the proud weight behind Rathore's leadership,
With the burden of guilt resting heavy on Ranvijay,
With the sudden fire burning inside Dev,
And with the sharp fear clenching Ayaan's heart—
The Operation S.B.S officially began.