The streets of Varanasi weren't just ancient—they bled history, soaked with the sweat and blood of countless generations. But beneath the holy chants and the sacred waters of the Ganges, a darker current flowed—one of crime, corruption, and shadows that never faded with the sunrise.
Abhay Rajpoot lit a cheap cigarette, its ember flickering like the last remnants of hope he carried. The bruises on his knuckles were fresh, souvenirs from a street brawl with a local gang, the Kashi Tigers, who'd tried to shake down his friend for money. Abhay didn't believe in heroes or villains anymore—just survivors. And he was barely that.
Born into nothing, raised in the gutters, Abhay had learned that the world didn't owe him anything. His father had been a small-time enforcer, shot dead in a petty gang war when Abhay was just eight. His mother followed soon after, not by a bullet but by the slow death of poverty. All that was left was Abhay's will—a stubborn flame refusing to die out.
As he walked through the narrow alleys of Godowlia, the neon lights of underground clubs flickered alongside ancient temples. A strange contrast. That's when it happened.
A sudden screech of tires. A black SUV sped towards him.
What the—
Gunfire erupted. Abhay dove behind a rusted dumpster as bullets ripped through the thin metal. His heart pounded, but fear wasn't new. What was new was the realization—this wasn't a random drive-by. They were here for him.
The Kashi Tigers? No… this was too professional.
Think, Abhay!
But thinking didn't save him. A sharp pain exploded in his side—a bullet. Warm blood soaked his shirt. His vision blurred as he collapsed onto the cold, dirty ground.
This was it.
As darkness claimed him, a voice echoed—not from the outside, but inside his head.
"System initializing… Compatibility detected: 99.9%. Synchronization complete."
Abhay's eyes fluttered open, not to the world, but to a dark void, illuminated by holographic screens floating around him.
"Welcome, Abhay Rajpoot. You have been selected as the Host of the Dominion System."
What the hell?
Pain was gone. The bullet wound? Non-existent. But the confusion in his mind raged like a storm.
"The Dominion System is designed to assist the Host in acquiring absolute control—economically, politically, and strategically. Objectives: Dominate. Rule. Survive."
Abhay clenched his fists.
"Why me?" he whispered.
"Because you were never meant to be a pawn."
A smirk crept onto his face, despite the chaos. For the first time in his life, someone—or something—believed he was destined for more.
And Abhay Rajpoot never wasted an opportunity.
This was the beginning of the end.
The end of weakness.
The end of poverty.
The end of being nothing.
From now on, he'd rise.
To the top of the business world.
To the throne of the underworld.
Abhay Rajpoot was about to become a king.
—End of Chapter 1—