Three weeks passed since Draupadi had entered Srikanth's life.
In that time, he had adjusted to her presence and even started teaching her basic mathematics in a language she could easily comprehend.
His own background as a member of the DRDE's Research Division had naturally instilled in him an affinity for science, but Srikanth always had a stronger natural talent toward mathematics.
And teaching it came naturally to him, even if it wasn't something he'd done regularly since his time coaching students in his previous life.
Today, they were sitting on the floor of the modest house he had taken over, their focus on the rough paper and charcoal pencils Srikanth had managed to acquire.
He patiently explained permutations and combinations, drawing simple diagrams to help her visualize the concepts.
"Think of it like this," he said in the local language, pointing to a rough circle he had drawn. "If you have three different objects, and you want to know how many ways you can arrange them, that's a permutation."
Draupadi's brow furrowed as she listened, her small hands resting on her knees.
She was trying hard to understand, and Srikanth had to admit that she was a quick learner, far quicker than he had initially expected.
Her naivety and innocence had made her seem fragile when he first met her, but over the past few weeks, she had shown resilience and intelligence that surprised him.
"What about combinations?" Draupadi asked, her voice soft but inquisitive.
Srikanth smiled faintly, pleased with her curiosity.
He turned back to the paper and began drawing again.
"Combinations are different. If you're choosing objects without caring about the order, like picking flowers from a garden, that's a combination. The order doesn't matter, only the selection."
Draupadi nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful as she took in the new information.
Her eye shifted back to the drawings, and Srikanth could see that she was trying to piece it together in her mind.
"You'll get the hang of it with practice," he reassured her. "Just keep thinking about it, and it will start to make sense."
He stood up, stretching slightly. Teaching was draining in its own way, though it was something he had always enjoyed.
He glanced out the window, where the sky was beginning to darken with clouds.
The air had grown heavier, and a sense of anticipation seemed to hang in the atmosphere.
"Alright, that's enough for today," he said, giving her a nod of approval. "You did well."
Draupadi smiled faintly, a small but genuine expression of pride on her face. She carefully set aside the paper and pencil, her fingers still stained slightly with the charcoal from earlier.
Srikanth made his way to the small kitchen area.
Despite everything that had changed in his life since his birth in the first life, one thing remained constant: his love for tea.
The familiar routine of boiling water, adding leaves, and savoring the warmth had always been a source of comfort for him, no matter where he was.
Just as he began preparing the tea, a low rumble echoed from outside.
The sound was deep, resonating through the air like the growl of some distant beast.
Srikanth paused, his hand hovering over the kettle as he listened.
Another rumble followed, louder this time, and then the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting the roof.
The first rain had begun.
Srikanth's eyes flickered towards the window, where heavy drops of rain began to streak down.
His pulse quickened.
This was what he had been waiting for—this moment of connection to the forces of nature.
With the energy he had absorbed weeks ago, he was now prepared to harness the power of the storm.
He abandoned the tea preparations, moving swiftly toward the front door.
He turned to Draupadi, who was carefully packing away her learning materials. "I'm going to do something important," he told her, his voice firm but not unkind.
"Stay inside and do not open the door for anyone, no matter what."
Draupadi looked up at him, her expression curious but obedient.
She nodded without question, sensing the seriousness in his tone.
Satisfied, Srikanth quickly left the house behind and stepped into the rain.
The wind whipped at him as he moved with purpose, heading toward the outskirts of the small town.
The rain was coming down harder now, and the sound of thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.
It didn't take long for Srikanth to reach the open fields beyond the town, a place where he could conduct what he needed without attracting attention.
His steps quickened, his mind racing with anticipation.
This storm, with its raw energy and power, was what he had been waiting for.
As he reached the outskirts, he paused and stood in the center of the open field.
His eyes scanned the darkened sky, and his breath subsided.
He could feel the charge in the air—nature itself was brimming with power.
Srikanth stretched out his hands, letting his control over electricity spread around him.
Arcs of electric blue energy crackled from his fingertips, dancing across his skin and sparking in the air.
His body, though young and underdeveloped, had begun to realign with the power he once commanded.
He focused, pulling at the electric fields in the atmosphere, guiding the energy to converge toward him.
The clouds above seemed to shift, and the wind picked up as if responding to his call.
A low rumble echoed, and then, in a flash of light and sound, it happened.
Boom!
A blinding bolt of lightning struck Srikanth directly, the energy slamming into him with the force of nature's wrath.
For a split second, everything was white, the air vibrating with the magnitude of the power that had descended upon him.
As the first bolt of lightning struck Srikanth, his body surged with electricity, power humming through his veins.
He gasped, his muscles tensing, but instead of being overwhelmed, he took control.
A grin spread across his face as he bent his legs, gathering the charged energy beneath him.
He pushed off the ground, conducting his body upward, using the current to propel himself into the sky.
The sensation of flying—no, being carried by pure electrical force—was exhilarating.
The storm clouds above seemed to ripple as he ascended, his body surrounded by arcs of electricity, crackling and snapping around him like a living aura.
The world below grew smaller, and the sky enveloped him in its stormy embrace.
As soon as Srikanth breached the cloud layer, the heavens roared to life.
A massive, continuous rumbling filled the air for hundreds of kilometers, as if nature itself had been awakened and was responding to his presence.
Thunder crashed without pause, lightning flashing in rapid succession, turning the dark sky into a brilliant spectacle of raw power.
To those in Gwalior and the surrounding villages, it was as if the world had reached its end.
The once-gray clouds were now illuminated with intense, blinding light.
The storm raged on without respite, flashing with such intensity that it seemed as though the very sun had descended to Earth, bathing the land in unnatural brightness.
The villagers cowered in fear, believing the apocalypse had come.
Srikanth floated within the storm, surrounded by pure electric energy, his body acting as a conduit.
He could feel the limitless power of nature at his fingertips, the thunderstorm bending to his will, the lightning surging at his command. The sensation was indescribable—like touching the core of the universe itself.
He let out a shout, a triumphant cry lost in the thunder.
His eyes burned with bright purple light, and his veins glowed through his skin, illuminated by the raw power coursing through him.
The storm obeyed his every whim, flashing and rumbling in time with his thoughts, the world around him shaking with his presence.
For a moment, Srikanth felt invincible—like a god standing among mortals, controlling the forces of nature itself.
The feeling was intoxicating, the ultimate rush of power he had long craved since losing it in his past life.
But as the storm continued, he knew this couldn't last forever.
His child's body, though bolstered by the storm's energy, could only take so much before it would start to break under the strain.
He had already absorbed enough electricity to sustain himself for some years.
He didn't need to exhaust his body any further, especially after knowing the toll that came with it.
--Rumble --
1 Month Later
--Rumble --
The scene shifted from the stormy skies to a grim, blood-soaked room, the thunder flashing outside echoing the chaotic atmosphere inside.
Srikanth stood there, his presence suffocating, dragging a massive, glowing red sword that was easily larger than his body.
The sword trailed across the stone floor, leaving a molten path in its wake as the heat from the blade melted the stone beneath it.
His eyes glowed with the same bright purple energy as before, and his face, twisted into an inhuman expression of immenserage.
His body seemed to pulsate with dark energy, every inch of him radiating an aura of raw, destructive power.
His voice, low and rumbling, cut through the sound of the thunder as he spoke, each word laced with venom.
"Tell me," he growled, his voice vibrating with barely contained rage, "you were there, weren't you?"
The man cowered before him, trembling uncontrollably.
He couldn't even form a coherent response, his mind shattered by fear.
The stench of urine filled the room as the man's body failed him, piss running down his legs and mixing with the pool of blood already covering the ground.
He stumbled back on all fours, desperately trying to escape Srikanth's gaze, but there was no escape from the monster standing before him.
Srikanth stepped forward, the molten stone sizzling underfoot as his gaze never wavered from the man.
"What did you find so entertaining about it?" he demanded, his voice rising in intensity.
"What was so funny about it?"
The man whimpered, his back pressing against the wall, but his legs slipped out from under him again as they slid on the blood pooling from the severed limbs of the other police officers scattered across the floor.
Their mangled bodies were strewn around the room like discarded dolls, their faces frozen in terror.
Srikanth's eyes narrowed, his glowing sword dragging along the floor with a deafening screech.
"What did you play with her life for, exactly?"
His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, but no less menacing.
There was no room for mercy here—only vengeance.
The man, reduced to nothing but a quivering mess, tried to speak, but his words were drowned out by the sound of thunder crashing outside and the sizzling heat of the molten stone beneath Srikanth's feet.
He had seen death before, but nothing like this.
Nothing this terrifying.
Srikanth stopped, his towering form casting a shadow over the trembling man.
He raised his sword, the blade glowing even brighter as lightningarved around it reheating the metal from the enrgy it lost, casting an eerie red light across the blood-streaked walls.
His eyes, filled with the pain and fury of someone who had lost everything, bored into the man's soul.
And then, without another word, the sword came crashing down.
Squelch
Thud!
With a heavy thud, the man was split cleanly in two, his body collapsing to the ground in a grotesque sizzling heap, just like the others who had tried to stand against Srikanth.
All the british allied forces stationed at Gwalior, initially defiant, had been reduced to nothing more than scattered corpses, littering the ground like fallen leaves after a storm.
The blade in Srikanth's hand began to lose its glow, the intense heat dissipating as he left it lodged in the molten ground, the stone around it sizzling and hissing.
The sword, though massive and glowing red-hot moments ago, was now cooling down and melting simultaneously , its dimming light a testament to Srikanth's unique application of power.
He had manipulated the bonds of the metal, forcing them to remain intact despite the extreme heat he had generated.
It was a simple but effective trick—a makeshift lightsaber, a weapon he had perfected and used countless times before when brute force was required.
As he straightened up, Srikanth's gaze turned toward the grand palace of the Scindia family, towering in the distance.
His expression was calm now, the monstrous rage subsiding, replaced by cold, calculated intent.
The royal family that ruled over Gwalior had remained untouched for too long, hiding behind their walls while the people suffered.
'Bartering the people's future just for their continued reign of power'
'Bowing their heads like slaves, rather than Fighting till their last breath'
'They don't have the right to call themselves kings when they don't follow the Creed of Kings'
'Disgusting'
A dark thought crossed his mind as he surveyed the palace.
'It's time to start my action plan.'
Taking over Gwalior would be the first step.
He needed control—control of the region, control of the resources, and control of the people.
This city would serve as the foundation of what he was about to build, and with it under his command, he could finally set his plans into motion.
The Scindias, with their royal influence and wealth, would be an important piece to claim.
But they were just a start. He had much bigger aspirations.
The revolution he intended to ignite would spread far beyond the borders of Gwalior.
The British Empire and its collaborators would soon face a new threat, one they could not possibly understand or stop.
For now, though, Gwalior would be his.
He took a deep breath, the night air still thick with the scent of burning flesh and molten stone, and began walking toward the palace with steady steps.
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Stones and Reviews please