Arjun Patel was an average teenager from Mumbai.

A fan of history, especially ancient India, he'd always dreamed of living in a different era, one where kings ruled vast empires, and

legendary battles were fought on the plains. But he never imagined that one day, he'd be thrust into such a life himself.

It happened on an ordinary evening. After finishing his homework and scrolling through social media, Arjun lay back on his bed, idly flipping through a historical novel.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light enveloped him. The room seemed to twist and stretch. The next thing he knew, his body felt entirely different.

His once lean frame was now muscular, his skin darkened with age, and his clothes were no longer those of a modern teenager but a royal, gold-embroidered robe.

Arjun blinked, disoriented, as the sight of his hands confirmed it: he was no longer in the world he knew.

He was inside a grand palace, surrounded by ornate pillars, guards with spears, and courtiers in elaborate garments.

His eyes widened as he realized where – or rather when – he was.

"Your Majesty," a voice broke his daze. A man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a high-ranking noble's attire, bowed deeply before him. "The council awaits your instructions."

"The council?" Arjun stammered, his voice sounding foreign. The palace around him suddenly felt suffocating.

He quickly sat up, looking around to find a large throne room adorned with royal insignia. "What is happening?" he muttered, his thoughts racing.

The man before him, a minister by the looks of it, seemed to interpret his confusion differently. "Your Majesty, are you well? The kingdom depends on your leadership."

The words were incomprehensible to Arjun at first, but a creeping realization began to dawn on him.

He was no longer Arjun Patel, the teenager from Mumbai.

He was now King Vikramaditya of a powerful kingdom in ancient India, a ruler whose ancestors had once controlled vast territories.

The weight of the throne had inexplicably fallen upon him.