The first dream came on the night after his parents' death. It was no ordinary dream,
but a vivid tapestry of memories—memories that did not belong to him. He saw himself
as a warrior, clad in ancient armor, standing on a battlefield drenched in blood. His
hands, covered in the warmth of the sun, wielded a weapon forged from light itself.
And yet, in these dreams, he felt the weight of defeat, of failure, over and over again.
Karan once led a life filled with laughter. His parents, both scholars of ancient Indian
texts, had filled his world with stories of gods, warriors, and ancient prophecies. They
lived on the outskirts of Banaras, close to the river, surrounded by bookshelves lined with scriptures older than time itself. His mother would sit by the window, reading tales of brave kings and immortals, while his father taught him the meanings behind ancient verses.
His father's voice still echoed in his mind. "Karan, remember, life is a cycle. What is
lost will always return, in some form or the other. You must be patient, my son. You
must be strong". But that strength deserted him when the portals first appeared.
It was five years ago, on a night when the moon was veiled behind clouds. The world
changed. In an instant, shimmering rifts tore through the sky, pulsating with energy—
dark and endless voids that appeared without warning. They were doorways to something far beyond human comprehension.
In the days that followed, chaos reigned. People were consumed by curiosity and
terror. Out of the portals came beasts—grotesque creatures from dimensions unknown, wreaking havoc on everything in their path. And soon, governments collapsed,
institutions crumbled, and survival became the new currency.
It was during the second wave of portal appearances that Karan's parents died. He
remembered the day all too well, the terror that gripped him as a low-level dungeon
spawned near their home. Creatures spilled out, and despite the efforts of local
hunters, the destruction was swift and brutal. His mother had tried to protect him, but
there was no escape. His father's last words had been a soft whisper against the chaos—
"Karan, survive."
The light in his father's eyes, once so bright with knowledge, dimmed forever. And
Karan was left with nothing but emptiness. His eyes, which once sparkled with curiosity, became dull, filled only with the pain of loss.
With the rise of the portals came the emergence of hunters, individuals who possessed the ability to fight the creatures within the dungeons. Society reorganized itself around these hunters, dividing them into ranks based on their strength and ability. The E-rankhunters were the weakest, often just above normal humans in strength. They were the cannon fodder sent into low-level dungeons, barely scraping by. The S-ranks, on the other hand, were godlike in their power, capable of destroying entire armies with a
flick of their wrist.
Karan, though, was no hunter. Not yet. Despite the tragedy, despite the pain, he was
weak—too weak to even imagine a future where he could stand among those who
fought to protect the world. Every day, he watched the hunter guilds train, envious of
their abilities, their power, and the respect they commanded. And every night, he was
haunted by dreams.
Karan would wake, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding as if he had truly fought
those battles. But the most unnerving part wasn't the battles—it was the faces of those
around him. Each figure had eyes filled with unspeakable power, their gazes locking onto him as if judging his worth.But when he looked in the mirror, all he saw were his own empty eyes staring back. Powerless. Alone.
Life in 2090 had become a delicate balance between surviving the chaos of the
dungeons and avoiding the attention of hunters. Those who weren't hunters had to
depend on the strong, often exploited for their labour or resources. Karan worked odd jobs, just to get by. Cleaning, repairing hunter gear, running messages—anything that kept him away from the dangerous parts of the city.
But as the days passed, he felt the weight of his parents' legacy pressing down on him.
His father had been obsessed with the prophecies hidden in the Vedas, convinced that the ancient texts held the key to the portals. And now, Karan could feel a strange
connection between his father's research and the fragmented dreams he was having.
Something within him was stirring, a force that was growing stronger with each passing day.
Still, he was weak, far too weak to make sense of it all. His hands, calloused from menial work, trembled as he watched others rise to greatness, while he remained in the shadows, unnoticed.
Steeling his resolve to survive in this newly changed world he wandered through the
narrow alleys leading away from the ghats, his mind drifted back to the dream he had
just awoken from. It had been more intense than usual. He had been standing on a
battlefield, surrounded by the fallen. The sky above him was dark, swirling with ominous clouds, but in the distance, he could see a figure—a man whose presenceradiated warmth and light. The man had looked at Karan with eyes that seemed to pierce through time itself, and in that moment, Karan had felt an overwhelming sense of recognition, as if he had known this man for lifetimeBut just as Karan had reached out to the figure, everything had faded away, leaving
him alone in the darkness.
"Karan!"
The voice snapped him out of his reverie. He turned to see Neha, a classmate,
hurrying towards him. Neha was one of the few people who actually acknowledged
Karan's existence. She was bright, outgoing, and had an infectious energy that made
her popular among their peers. Karan often wondered why she bothered with him at all.
"Hey, where were you last night? We had a study group session, and you missed it,"
shesaid, slightly out of breath.
Karan offered a weak smile. "I'm sorry, I… wasn't feeling well."
Neha frowned, concern flashing in her eyes. "You've been saying that a lot lately. Are you
sure you're, okay?"
"I'm fine," he replied quickly, not wanting to delve into the truth. How could he explain to her that his mind was constantly torn between the present and the past? That he felt like a stranger in his own life?
Neha didn't look convinced, but she let it go. "Well, you didn't miss much. Just the usual. But seriously, Karan, you should take care of yourself. You look like you haven't slept in days."
Karan nodded, though he knew sleep wasn't the issue. If anything, it was the dreams that
were draining him.
As they continued walking, the conversation shifted to more mundane topics—
school assignments, the latest gossip, and the upcoming festival preparations. Neha
did most of the talking, while Karan listened, his thoughts drifting in and out of
focus. The streets of Banaras grew busier as the morning progressed, with the
cacophony of life all around them. Yet, Karan felt a strange disconnect, as if he were
watching everything from a distance.