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- Secret Underground Hideout, Calcutta -
- April 4, 1936 – Night -
The chamber was dimly lit, its only sources of illumination the oil lamps hanging from the walls and a single candle at the center of a wooden table. The flickering light cast long shadows over the rough stone walls, creating an atmosphere of quiet intensity.
Six men stood before Aryan, their expressions hard, their postures straight. Veer Singh Rathore, Rahim Baksh Qureshi, Daniel D'Souza, Arjan Singh Sodhi, Dawa Tenzing, and Gurunathan Iyer—each had been handpicked. Not for supernatural gifts, but for something rarer: their minds, their resilience, their hatred for the British, and their ability to turn that hatred into action.
These were not men of idle words. They had fought in the streets, in the jungles, in the alleys where shadows moved faster than bullets. Some had lost family, others had lost everything, yet all had found a reason to keep going. Now, they stood here, waiting.
But Aryan could see the hesitation in their eyes—the unspoken question. Why should we follow you?
They had come in the name of Maheshvara, a figure whispered about in the underground resistance. Across Bengal, a symbol had begun to appear—the Chakra of Maheshvara, a mark of defiance, a sign of something unseen yet feared. But was it real? Was he real?
Aryan exhaled slowly. It was time to end their doubts.
Without a word, he raised his hand. The air crackled. The ground beneath them trembled as an invisible force spread through the chamber. Shadows twisted unnaturally. The oil lamps flared, their flames stretching higher before dimming. A golden halo flickered around him.
And then, behind him, it appeared.
A massive Chakra, spinning slowly in the air. Not of metal or fire, but of raw, unfiltered power. A symbol that had already begun weaving itself into the whispers of rebellion. It hovered behind him, casting an ethereal glow.
They had seen bullets pierce flesh. They had seen blades cut men down. But this? This was something beyond.
"I am Aryan Rajvanshi," he said, his voice calm, unwavering. "But to those who fight for India's freedom, I am also Maheshvara."
A sharp intake of breath. A flicker of realization.
"The British fear me. The people whisper my name in secret. The Chakra behind me is no illusion—it is a warning. To our enemies, it means destruction. To our people, it means hope."
He stepped forward, meeting their eyes one by one. The golden light reflected in their uncertain gazes, illuminating their wavering conviction.
"You hesitate because you do not know whether to believe in me. Whether to trust this cause. Whether to risk your lives following a man who claims to be more than just another revolutionary." He let the words sink in before his voice sharpened. "But tell me—has doubt given you victory? Has hesitation freed your people?"
Silence.
Rahim's fists clenched. Arjan's grip tightened on his kirpan. Veer's jaw tensed, the weight of his ancestors' unfinished war heavy on his shoulders.
"You are all brilliant. Skilled. Fearless." Aryan's gaze swept over them. "But alone, you are outnumbered. Alone, you are hunted. Alone, you are mortal."
The Chakra behind him spun faster, its golden light flaring.
"But under my command, you will be unstoppable. We will not fight with desperation—we will fight with certainty. We will not strike blindly—we will strike knowing we cannot be defeated. Because power is the only language our enemies understand."
He gestured to the table where their sacred books, which he had brought and placed in advance, lay.
"This is your moment of choice. Walk away, and you return to a war you have already been fighting—alone, uncertain, bound by rules your enemies do not follow. Stay, and you become part of something greater."
The Chakra slowed, Its radiance settling into a steady, pulsing glow. His voice dropped to a measured command.
"Decide now."
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The chamber remained silent. The weight of Aryan's words pressed down on them like a storm, leaving no space for hesitation. The six men stared at him, searching for weakness, for deception. They found neither.
Rahim was the first to step forward. His dark eyes, once skeptical, now burned with determination. He looked at Aryan, then at the Chakra, and exhaled sharply.
"I've fought them in the streets, the slums, the alleys where our people starve while they feast. I've lost brothers, friends—everything. And every time, we were crushed because we were weak." His fists clenched. "If this power means we will never be weak again… then I'm with you."
Arjan stepped forward next, broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the dim light. He drew his kirpan, not in threat, but in oath.
"My ancestors fought in '57 and were betrayed. My father fought and was hanged. I have waited for a war where we do not fight just to die—but to win." He drove the blade lightly into the wooden table. "You have my sword."
One by one, the others followed.
Dawa Tenzing, the silent strategist, gave a simple nod. "We move forward."
Daniel, a man who had seen war beyond India's borders, smirked before crossing his arms. "If this means the British will finally fear us the way they made the world fear them… then I'm in."
Veer and Gurunathan exchanged a glance before stepping forward together. Gurunathan spoke first. "I have doubted many leaders before. But I do not doubt you, Maheshvara."
Veer followed, his voice firm. "I'll fight. Just tell me where to strike."
Aryan studied them for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Good."
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As the last oath was sworn, a quiet yet firm set of footsteps echoed through the chamber. From the shadows at the far end, four figures emerged—Shakti, Karna, Surya, and Anjali.
They had been there all along, watching in silence.
Shakti and Karna moved instinctively to Aryan's side. They were already accustomed to his leadership, his vision. There was no need for words between them; they had been at his side since the beginning. Their presence alone reinforced what the others had just committed to—this was no reckless rebellion. This was something far greater.
But it was Surya and Anjali who drew the new recruits' attention, with them being renowned figures in Bengal as leaders of BSS. Unlike the hardened revolutionaries before Aryan, these two carried themselves differently—not as warriors, but as something just as powerful.
His father, Surya, stood with quiet pride, his gaze steady as he took in the sight of his son—not as the boy he had raised, but as the leader he had become. His mother, Anjali, had the same expression. For all the power Aryan wielded, for all the forces he commanded, their pride in him had nothing to do with his abilities. It was the way he carried his convictions, the way he took responsibility for those who followed him.
Aryan turned to the group. "These four—Shakti, Karna, Surya, and Anjali—are the founding members of our organization. They are the ones who have stood beside me from the beginning, and they will stand with you as we move forward."
The weight of those words settled over the room. The six new recruits were no longer just joining a rebellion. They were becoming part of something structured, something deliberate, something that had already begun to move.
Aryan exhaled, shifting from the moment of oath-taking to what came next. "We have secured our foothold in Bengal. The Chakra of Maheshvara is no longer just a symbol—it is being whispered about in every corner of Calcutta. But whispers are not enough. We need more."
He placed his hand on the map spread across the wooden table, its surface covered in markings—key locations, supply routes, areas under British control. "The British have always used one advantage against us—division. But if we control the flow of information, if we establish a network that connects every resistance group, we take that advantage away from them."
He tapped a point on the map. "Bengal is where we began. But our reach must extend beyond it. To Bihar. To the North East and Burma. To the Punjab. To the South. Everywhere our people suffer, they must know they are not alone."
Shakti spoke next, her voice steady. "Yes, but we need allies in every city. People willing to coordinate intelligence, secure supplies, and spread our influence. The more visible the Chakra becomes, the stronger our hold will be."
Anjali crossed her arms. "We also shouldn't just strike where the British expect us. We should control the underground networks, the flow of weapons, money, and information. Every factory worker, every railway operator, every soldier with doubts—they are all potential assets. It's time we start turning them."
Aryan nodded. "And to do that, we must send envoys. We will identify individuals in each region who can be trusted to carry our message, who can establish new cells under our command. We're not asking for reckless sacrifices. We're asking for those who are ready to win."
A determined silence filled the room. The path ahead was clear.
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