《SLUMDOG: PREDATOR PLANET A LitRPG Progression Fantasy》 Chapter One: A Crack In The Sky The cotton candy dissolves on my tongue as Baba¡¯s laughter cuts through the festival noise. Not his usual tired chuckle after long nights sweeping Mumbai¡¯s streets¡ªreal laughter, bright as the mela lights above us. His teeth flash in the neon glow, and for once, the permanent exhaustion has lifted from his face. [Subject¡¯s Mental State Analysis] Current Emotions: Joy (78%), Hope (92%), Underlying Anxiety (23%) Memory Clarity: Crystal Status: Last Happy Moment [Time Until Primary Incident: 00:05:54] I stop in the act of mouthing cotton candy and stare at the strange words hanging in the air for a moment. I¡¯m distracted by my father¡¯s voice, causing me to blink. In the space of that blink, the words disappear and everything is as it was before. Some kind of special effect, I think. Nowadays, they can do all kinds of things with laser projectors. Probably some advertising gimmick. ¡°Aai! Look at your son, Lakshmi!¡± Baba calls to my mother. ¡°Almost twelve and still eating like a small child!¡± But even as he teases, he licks pink sugar from his own fingers, savoring this rare luxury. My brother Arun rolls his eyes¡ªfifteen and already too grown for such things¡ªbut I catch him watching the candy anyway. I hold out my stick, offering to share, but he shakes his head. Since he began hanging with that older group of chawlie boys, he¡¯s grown more distant and introverted. I miss the Arun he was before: that Arun would have thanked me for sharing and pretended to eat it all until I protested. At least my little sister Asha knows better than to refuse. She grins at me with pink-stained teeth, wearing the only frock she owns for this special occasion. Aai spent an hour oiling and plaiting her hair before we left, making sure we¡¯d look our best for Baba¡¯s celebration. [Family Unit Analysis] - Father (Designation: ¡°Baba¡±): Recently promoted - Mother (Designation: ¡°Aai¡±): Primary caregiver - Brother (Designation: ¡°Arun¡±): Protective/Distant - Sister (Designation: ¡°Asha¡±): Bonded ally Survival Probability as Unit: [CALCULATING...] [Time Until Primary Incident: 00:05:39] I glance around to try to spot the source of the peculiar floating words: a projector installed in some discrete place, flashing these strange advertisements in the air? Some kind of new device, working off a smartphone? Or some entirely new kind of technology? Patil, a guy in the chawl who can procure anything for the right sum, was talking about some kind of Virtual Reality goggles that enable you to immerse yourself in a video game in which the phantom creatures are part of the real world around the user. But I¡¯m not wearing any goggles and I don¡¯t see any other way for the words to be projected. The mela spreads out around us in a riot of color and light and motion. Paper lanterns sway between poles like strings of captured stars, their patterns reflecting off the metal skeleton of the Giant Wheel¡ªthe biggest Ferris wheel I¡¯ve ever seen, stretching so high it seems to scrape Mumbai¡¯s perpetually hazy sky. [Time Until Incident: 00:03:47] I frown at this new message as a mouthful of cotton candy melts on my tongue. A blink makes it go away, and I shrug. Best to just ignore the messages. Or advertisements. Or whatever they are. Probably some high tech gimmick for some new virtual reality device. The kind of gadget that the likes of us can¡¯t even dare to dream of affording. I¡¯ll learn to ignore it the way I ignore foods at the store which I know we can never afford to buy. Even if they are essential. ¡°You¡¯re spoiling them,¡± Aai says to Baba, but she¡¯s smiling too. I can¡¯t remember the last time I saw all of us happy at once. An outing and celebration like this is so rare, I can only remember one previous occasion that even comes close to it, and even that is a vague, faded memory from many years ago. My mother¡¯s laughter at something my father says makes me smile too. Seeing her happy makes me feel happy too. Usually there''s always something: Aai''s cough from the kerosene smoke that fills our one room when she cooks, or Arun''s quiet anger after someone at school called him a slumdog, or the bone-deep exhaustion in Baba''s eyes after another day of cleaning other people''s filth. But today is different. Today everything changes. I see the change in Baba¡¯s eyes now, the way they light up, reflecting the colored lights of the mela, in Aai¡¯s smile, rarer than fresh marigold flowers at Diwali, and just as lovely. Today, the Naman family is floating on a cloud of hope and aspiration. [Warning: Timeline Convergence Detected] [Causal Nexus Forming] [Fate Lock Engaging] [Time Until Primary Incident: 00:03:04] ¡°Let me spoil them a little, no?¡± Baba puts his arm around Aai¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Today we celebrate! Your husband is now officially employed by the Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai!¡± He says the words like they¡¯re made of gold. ¡°A proper government job, with benefits! All those years of organizing, of fighting for our rights¡ªsee? Change comes slowly, but it comes.¡± [Subject¡¯s Future Probability Matrix Shifting] Previous Life Path: Limited New Potential Paths Unlocking: [REDACTED] Warning: Critical Moment Approaching [Time Until Primary Incident: 00:01:08] I blink this one away impatiently. ¡°And now we can afford two rooms in the chawl?¡± I ask through a mouthful of dissolving sugar. We¡¯ve been sharing a single room¡ªall five of us¡ªfor as long as I can remember. ¡°Yes, beta.¡± Baba ruffles my hair. ¡°Two rooms! And a gas cylinder for your Aai, so she won¡¯t have to breathe that kerosene smoke anymore. Maybe even a small second hand television, eventually.¡± The line for the Giant Wheel moves forward, and we shuffle closer to what will become our last moment of normal life. Above us, the massive wheel turns against the darkening sky, its skeleton outlined in blinking lights that paint patterns against the clouds. [ALERT: DIMENSIONAL BREACH IMMINENT] [Timeline Lock Engaged] [Subject¡¯s Life Path: Redirecting...] [The System Awakens] [Time Until Primary Incident: 00:00:07] I frown. These messages are starting to annoy me now. I blink this one away as well, and crane my neck, trying to see the very top where the Ferris wheel seems to almost merge with an overhanging cloud, and that¡¯s when I see it: A crack in the sky. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. [DIMENSIONAL BREACH DETECTED] Quantum Point: Alphaverse planet#CH972, Location: Country Class: India, City Class: Mumbai Type: Class-5 Reality Fracture Warning: Unauthorized Incursion Threat Level: [MAXIMUM] A line of blinding white light splitting the purple evening like a knife wound in reality itself. And through that wound, something is coming. I raise my hand to shield it, feeling the light pierce my brain like a needle. At first I think it¡¯s a trick of the Ferris wheel¡¯s lights, like when Aai¡¯s sari catches the sun and makes rainbow patterns on our walls. But the crack grows wider, and wider, and the darkness pouring through it isn¡¯t like any darkness I¡¯ve ever seen. It moves. It has texture, like ink in water, or smoke that¡¯s alive. ¡°Baba?¡± My voice comes out small. Nobody seems to notice yet¡ªthe line keeps shuffling forward, music still pounds from the speakers, children still shriek with delight from the top of the wheel. ¡°Baba, look¡ª¡± Then the first shapes emerge. [HOSTILE ENTITIES EMERGING] [Threat Analysis] Type: Necro-Dragon Size: 47 meters wingspan Abilities: - Reality-warping flight - Hyperthermal breath - Metal-rending claws - Lava-drip saliva - Psychic assault Weakness: [INSUFFICIENT DATA] Warning: Subject severely under-leveled for current encounter Tutorial Recommendation: FLEE Recommended Action: [ERROR - NO SURVIVAL SCENARIO FOUND] They¡¯re too big to be real. Like mountains with wings, but mountains made of shadow and bone and things I don¡¯t have words for. Each one is bigger than our entire chawl block. As they pour through the wound in the sky, I can see riders on their backs¡ªfigures in black robes and hoods whose eyes glow with sickly green light, like the phosphorescence that sometimes grows on rotting fish in the market. The music stops. The whole mela seems to hold its breath. From our spot near the Ferris wheel, we have a clear view across Chhatrapati Park maidan to the city beyond. The British-era buildings along Cadell Road look like toys beneath the massive shapes wheeling in the sky. The dragon-things spread out across Mumbai like a closing fist. The first blast of orange fire hits the statue of Chhatrapati, reducing it to metal slag instantly. The molten metal splashes to the base, white hot puddles forming on the concrete apron and spilling over to the bare ground. [Damage Analysis] Weapon Type: Necro-Plasma Temperature: 15,000¡ãC Effect: Matter/Reality Dissolution Defense Required: Currently Impossible Subject Current Defense Rating: 0 A highrise building across from the park is struck by another flame blast. The structure doesn¡¯t just break¡ªit melts, flowing down its sides like candle wax. I hear the screams even from here, see tiny figures at the windows as the floors collapse inward and are consumed by the heat. More dragons dive between the buildings, breathing that impossible fire. Buildings crumple. The Chhatrapati gate splits in half and crumbles to fragments. All around us, Mumbai begins to burn. ¡°Ramji bachchao!¡± Aai¡¯s prayer mingles with a thousand others as the mela crowd realizes what they¡¯re seeing. A dragon banks around a blocky government building, its merged rider-body pulsing with a corona of energy. The colonial-era stone edifice explodes outward, raining burning debris across the crowded street, crushing cars and buses like flimsy tin cans, killing their occupants. The air itself seems to recoil, shimmering waves spreading outwards from the swooping, lunging monstrosities. That¡¯s when one of the dragons breaks formation. It wheels around the collapsed hulk of the Himalaya Bridge, banking toward Chhatrapati Park. As it draws closer, I can see it more clearly¡ªand I wish I couldn¡¯t. The dragon and its rider have merged into something that hurts my eyes to look at, like two photographs overlapped wrong. Their edges blur together, green light pulsing through their joined form like sick heartbeats. The thing¡¯s dual heads¡ªdragon and human-thing melted together¡ªfix on our crowd with eyes that glow like radiation. Steam rises where its claws touch the air itself, and I smell something burning before it even reaches us, like the whole world is catching fire. The thing¡¯s eyes find me first¡ªall of them, dragon and rider both¡ªand something reaches into my mind like fingers made of ice. I taste metal and smell colors that don¡¯t exist. The world stretches and warps around me as thoughts that aren¡¯t mine flood my head. Then it opens its mouths. The first blast of orange fire heads straight for us. The first blast of volcanic flame hits the Giant Wheel. Metal screams as the massive structure begins to melt. Whole cars full of families dissolve into slag, their screams lost in the roar of otherworldly flame. The wheel¡¯s support struts buckle, and the whole thing starts to tip toward the crowd. ¡°Run!¡± someone shouts, and the spell of stillness breaks. [Structural Analysis] Giant Wheel Status: CRITICAL Mass: 228 tons Trajectory: Impact in 12 seconds Affected Area: 78 meters radius Survival Chance in Impact Zone: 0% [Skill Check: Movement] Agility: 2/100 Speed: 3/100 Reaction Time: 7/100 Status: Physical Parameters Insufficient WARNING: Current stats cannot support survival The mela erupts into chaos. Thousands of people try to flee at once, but there¡¯s nowhere to go. The dragon-thing¡¯s wings create hurricane gusts as it lands, sending tents and stalls flying like paper toys. I see the chaat seller lifted off his feet, still clutching his ladle, before he disappears into the darkness. [Environmental Effect: Dragon Wind] Force: 248 km/h Your Weight: 27 kg Required Stability: 85 Your Stability: 1 Status: [CRITICAL FAILURE IMMINENT] ¡°This way!¡± Baba grabs my arm. The cotton candy is still stuck to my other hand as we run. We make it three steps before the next blast of fire cuts through the crowd behind us. I make the mistake of looking back. A whole family¡ªparents and three children¡ªcatches the edge of the blast. Their clothes ignite first, then their hair, then their skin begins to bubble and peel like paint in the heat. They¡¯re still running as they burn, leaving trails of melting flesh behind them. The smallest child stumbles and¡ª Aai yanks my head forward. ¡°Don¡¯t look, beta.¡± But there¡¯s nowhere to look that isn¡¯t horror. The carousel horses are melting, their painted smiles turning to screaming grimaces as they drip onto the children still strapped to their backs. The ring toss booth explodes, sending burning stuffed animals raining down like comets. A group of teenagers tries to hide behind a steel shipping container, but the dragon¡¯s fire turns it into an oven, cooking them alive inside. The smell is everywhere¡ªburning hair, melting plastic, cooking meat. The cotton candy in my hand has melted completely, pink sugar running down my arm like blood. More people run past us: a woman holding a charred bundle that might have been a baby, an old man whose glasses have melted into his face, two boys about my age supporting their grandfather between them. The dragon¡¯s fire catches them all. They die running, or crawling, or huddled together. Some try to hide under tables or behind stalls, but the fire finds them anyway. It melts through metal and stone like they¡¯re made of wax. [Mass Casualty Event] Deaths in Range: 847 Deaths Witnessed: 23 Subject Death Probability: 99.997% ¡°We can¡¯t outrun it,¡± Arun says, his voice cracking. He¡¯s right. I can see people who ran faster than us, who got further away. The dragon is toying with them, picking them off one by one, almost lazy in its cruelty. [Tactical Analysis] Current Strategy: Flight Success Chance: 0% Alternative Options: 1 Survival Route: [DETECTING...] That¡¯s when I see it¡ªa sheet of corrugated asbestos that fell from one of the stalls, propped against a concrete barrier at an angle. Big enough for three people. Asbestos doesn¡¯t burn¡ªI know this from the sheets covering our chawl. They cause cancer. People die of lung cancer from breathing asbestos particles. But they don¡¯t burn. [Intelligence Check: PASSED] Observation Skill: +1 Problem-Solving: +2 Survival Instinct: Evolving System Note: First sign of potential ¡°There!¡± I pull Aai¡¯s hand. ¡°Under that¡ª¡± The dragon lands right in front of us, its claws melting divots in the pavement. This close, I can see how rider and beast have fused into something impossible. Their flesh flows together like wax, orange light pulsing through their joined veins. Steam rises from their multiple mouths as they all turn to look at us. recognition/interest/death [Neural Bridge Forming] Connection Type: Impossible Duration: 2.3 seconds Effect: Permanent Change Status: Initiating The alien thoughts hit me again, stronger this time. Behind them I feel something vast and cold and hungry, older than cities, older than civilization. It reaches into my mind with terrible curiosity, like a scientist examining a bug before pulling off its wings. ¡°Keep running!¡± Baba pushes us toward the asbestos sheet. ¡°I¡¯ll¡ª¡± The dragon¡¯s heads rear back. Orange fire builds in their throats. ¡°Aai!¡± I drag her under the asbestos sheet. Arun tumbles in beside us. The space is small, cramped, hot with our panicked breathing. Through the gap between sheet and ground, I can see Baba still standing there. Why isn¡¯t he running? Why isn¡¯t he¡ª There¡¯s no heroic last stand. No final words. Just my father¡¯s body coming apart in the otherworldly flames, like a candle left too long in the sun. His skin bubbles and runs like wax. His bones show through as luminous volcanic flames eat him from the inside out. The permanent silver tooth he was so proud of¡ªthe one he saved three months¡¯ wages for¡ªmelts and runs down what¡¯s left of his chin. Aai¡¯s hands clamp over my eyes but it¡¯s too late. The image is burned into my mind forever: my father dissolving in dragon fire the same day he finally won his dignity. And we¡¯re going to be next. Chapter Two: A Storm of Dragons The image of my father melting like a candle lit with a blowtorch is seared into my brain. My mother¡¯s body heaves as she is racked by grief as she clutches my little sister Asha, who is weeping as well. I place one arm around them both, sharing in their grief but not allowing myself to yield to it. Beside me, I feel the rage in my elder brother Arun as he stares through the gap with clenched jaw and bared teeth. His legs tense and I know he¡¯s about to leave the precarious shelter of this asbestos sheet to take his rage out on that necro-dragon. He stands no chance. I clamp my hand on his forearm, gripping it as tightly as I can. He turns and glares at me, but I keep my grip. Now, if he tries to run out, he will drag me with him as well. He sees it in my eyes and his rage flickers, not weakening but adjusting. He nods sharply, acknowledging and I know he will not leave the safety of our shelter, such as it is. I release his hand, and peer out from around the edge of the asbestos. Straight into the eyes of the beast. [WARNING: QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT DETECTED] Neural Bridge: Forming Consciousness Transfer: Imminent Scale: Beyond Current Parameters System Note: First Contact with the Greater Mind The dragon¡¯s multiple eyes lock onto mine, and suddenly I¡¯m not under the asbestos sheet anymore. My consciousness stretches, expands, tears free from my body like a kite string snapping in a storm. I rocket upward, through the dragon¡¯s eyes, into its vast and ancient mind. [Neural Expansion Beginning] Mind State: Transcending Consciousness Level: Ascending Warning: Human Parameters Exceeded Mumbai spreads out below me like a glowing circuit board, its streets rivers of light, its buildings gleaming monuments to human ambition. Through the dragon¡¯s eyes, I see everything at once: the Crawford Market¡¯s Victorian architecture crumbling under plasma fire, the Gateway of India melting into the Arabian Sea, Dharavi¡¯s endless maze of slums igniting like tissue paper. [Viewing Permissions: EXPANDED] Perspective: Alpha Dragon Height: 3,427 meters Visual Range: City-wide Processing: Beyond Human Limits A storm of my kin¡ªno, not my kin, the dragon¡¯s kin¡ªwheels through Mumbai¡¯s sky. Their wings blot out the stars as they dive and strike with surgical precision. The Taj Mahal Hotel¡¯s dome collapses inward, its century-old stone flowing like water. The BSE¡¯s glass facade liquefies, raining molten silicon onto fleeing crowds. The new World Trade Centre splits vertically, its twin towers peeling apart like burning paper. [Consciousness Shift: EXPANDING] Neural Network: Growing Mind State: Quantum Linked Warning: Identity Dissolution Risk But Mumbai is just the beginning. My consciousness splinters, fragments, spreads across a web of connected minds. Through a thousand dragons¡¯ eyes, I see a thousand cities burning: New York: The Empire State Building twisted into a spiral of melting steel Tokyo: Shibuya Crossing becomes a lake of fire London: Big Ben¡¯s clock face runs like tears down its melting tower Dubai: The Burj Khalifa snaps like a twig, its broken pieces falling like metal rain Sydney: The Opera House¡¯s shells crack and peel like burning paper Rio: Christ the Redeemer¡¯s outstretched arms collapse as green fire consumes the mountain [Reality Scope: MAXIMUM] Connected Minds: 7,249 Alpha Dragons Viewing Nodes: All Major Population Centers Time Frame: Simultaneous Attack System Note: Witnessing Historic Moment Each dragon¡¯s mind adds to the network, a vast crystalline structure of thought and purpose. I see through all their eyes at once, experience every attack, every kill, every moment of destruction across the globe. Billions of lives snuffed out in perfectly synchronized violence. [WARNING: DIMENSIONAL BOUNDARIES WEAKENING] Reality Layer: Shifting Consciousness: Expanding Beyond Earth-Prime Status: Alphaverse Opens But even this is just one layer, one Earth, one reality. My consciousness expands further, impossible geometries unfolding in my mind as I touch the greater network. Through the quantum-entangled hivemind of all Alpha Dragons across all parallel Alpha Earths, I see: A billion Mumbais. A trillion New Yorks. An infinity of Londons. All burning. All dying. All at once. In this vast network of dragon-minds across the multiverse, something else stirs. Something vast and dark and cold, its thoughts moving like glaciers, its consciousness spanning not just worlds but entire reality clusters. It turns its attention toward my insignificant spark of awareness like a star noticing a dust mote. The thought hits me with the force of a supernova. Reality bends around that vast consciousness as it reaches for me with casual, cosmic indifference. I feel like an ant that¡¯s caught the attention of an elephant¡ª [Emergency Disconnect Initiated] Consciousness: Retracting Neural Bridge: Collapsing Return Status: FORCED ¡ªand then I¡¯m slammed back into my body with the force of a thunderclap. My head rings like a temple bell. Every nerve burns with remembered cosmic fire. I taste colors that don¡¯t exist and smell thoughts that haven¡¯t happened yet. [Physical Status: CRITICAL] Neural Load: 287% of maximum Brain Activity: Dangerous Levels Consciousness: Stabilizing New Pathways: Forming ¡°Beta! Beta!¡± Aai¡¯s voice sounds far away. I realize she¡¯s holding me, shaking me. ¡°Come back to me! Please!¡± ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± I manage to whisper. My tongue feels like it¡¯s made of lead. ¡°I¡¯m okay, Aai.¡± [System Integration: COMPLETE] Status: Changed Evolution: Beginning Mark: Applied Note: You have been chosen The sheet of asbestos grows hot above us. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Not burning¡ªasbestos doesn¡¯t burn, thank God¡ªbut hot enough to sear. Arun¡¯s arms around me are shaking. Or maybe I¡¯m the one shaking. I can¡¯t tell anymore. The melted cotton candy has glued my fingers together, pink sugar mixed with sweat and tears. [Combat Status: ONGOING] Threat Level: Maximum Time Until Death: 43 seconds System Note: Loop Begins Here Through the gap I see more people running, burning, dying. A woman crawls past, her legs gone, leaving a trail of charred meat behind her. The dragon¡¯s footsteps melt divots in the pavement as it stalks through the carnage. Its multiple heads swivel with mechanical precision, targeting the few survivors who still think they can escape. [Final Moments Approaching] First Death: Imminent Loop Status: Initializing Then it stops. All its heads¡ªdragon and rider, melted together in that impossible way¡ªturn back toward our hiding place. Steam rises where its claws touch the ground. The air itself seems to burn. [Neural Bridge: Reopening] Final Contact: Initiating Message: Incoming recognition/interest/future The alien thoughts hit me again, but this time they¡¯re different. Focused. Personal. They dig through my mind like hooks made of ice, examining, assessing, marking something they find there. Behind the thoughts I feel that vast and cold and patient mind I glimpsed in the network, older than cities, older than civilization itself. The dragon takes one step toward us. The asbestos sheet won¡¯t save us if it really wants us dead. Nothing will. But then something pulls its attention away¡ªmore movement, more prey, more victims to burn. Its wings spread, blocking out the sky as it launches itself back into the air. The backwash feels like a furnace, hot enough to scorch my lungs through the gaps in our shelter. We stay there, huddled together, as the screaming slowly dies away. The heat gradually fades. The smell doesn¡¯t. ¡°Baba?¡± Arun¡¯s voice cracks. ¡°Baba?¡± But there¡¯s nothing left of our father except a shadow burned into the pavement, like the ones they showed us in school pictures from Hiroshima. Above us, through the crack that split Mumbai¡¯s sky, more shapes keep pouring through: mountains with wings, bringing death in waves of orange flame. The cotton candy has left my hand sticky and gross. From somewhere far away, I hear the mechanical music of the carousel, still playing its endless loop as the world burns around it. The painted horses keep prancing in their circle, their shadows dancing in the light of Mumbai¡¯s death. And somewhere in that vast network of dragon-minds across the alphaverse, something ancient and cold smiles, knowing it has found exactly what it was looking for. [SYSTEM STATUS: ONLINE] Player: Vish Naman Game State: Beginning Loop Status: Active Death Count: 0 (First Death Approaching) [Final Sequence Initiating] Time Until First Death: 2 minutes, 17 seconds Tutorial Status: Concluding System Integration: 94% Complete Through gaps in our makeshift shelter, I watch Mumbai burn. The dragons move with terrible purpose now, their formations tightening, their attacks becoming more precise. They¡¯re no longer just destroying¡ªthey¡¯re hunting. Searching. ¡°We have to move,¡± Arun whispers. ¡°They¡¯ll find us if we stay¡ª¡± ¡°No.¡± I grab his arm. My fingers stick to his skin. ¡°The asbestos will keep us safe. If we leave¡ª¡± [Knowledge Check: FAILED] Previous Assumption: Incorrect True Data: Unlocked Warning: Asbestos melting point - 1,500¡ãC Necro-Plasma Temperature - 15,000¡ãC That¡¯s when I hear it: a sound like reality tearing, but smaller this time. Closer. Personal. The asbestos sheet above us begins to glow. The necro-dragon has returned. [DANGER: IMMEDIATE] Threat Level: MAXIMUM Escape Routes: 0 Time Until Impact: 3... 2... 1¡­ Orange flame punches through our shelter like it¡¯s made of paper. The asbestos doesn¡¯t just melt¡ªit sublimates, turning directly from solid to vapor. Toxic fumes fill our lungs as our protection evaporates around us. [Status Effect: POISON] Lung Capacity: Reducing Consciousness: Fading Pain Level: Maximum System Note: First death is always the hardest ¡°Run!¡± Aai pushes me, trying to shield me with her body. But there¡¯s nowhere to run. The dragon looms above us, its merged rider-body pulsing with blinding energy. Both its heads turn to focus on me with terrible purpose. [Neural Bridge: Final Contact] Connection: Established Message: Downloading Understanding: 0.001% recognition/selection/beginning The thoughts crash into my mind with the force of destiny. Through the pain and fear, I understand something vast and terrible: this isn¡¯t random. None of this is random. I¡¯ve been chosen for something. But what? Why? By whom? [Recruit Status: UPDATING] Role: Assigned Path: Opening Purpose: [REDACTED] The System Welcomes You What¨Cwho¨Cis ¡°the System¡±? The asbestos starts to glow red-hot above us. Asha whimpers, pressing her face into Aai''s sari. The fabric still smells of jasmine oil from this morning, when everything was normal. When Baba was alive. I want to close my eyes, but I can''t stop watching through the gap. The dragon''s talons leave pools of molten concrete with each step. Its shadow falls over our hiding place, and the temperature rises so high I feel my eyebrows starting to singe. One massive foot plants itself right in front of our shelter. Steam hisses where drops of molten metal fall from its scales. Through the gap, I see something that makes no sense: in the liquid metal pooling around its claws, there are reflections of cities I''ve never seen. Steel towers taller than anything in Mumbai. Strange machines flying between crystalline spires. Armies fighting battles under purple skies. The visions make my head hurt. Strange words floating in the air, weird visions¡­ I don¡¯t understand any of it but I do know by now that these can¡¯t be some advertising gimmick. I squeeze my eyes shut, but they''re still there, burning behind my eyelids. "Aai," Arun whispers, "we need to¡ª" The asbestos sheet vanishes. Not burns away, not melts¡ªjust vanishes, like it was never there. The sudden light blinds me. Heat washes over us like a tsunami. Above us, the dragon''s heads¡ªboth dragon and rider-thing¡ªstare down with eyes that glow like dying stars. Its thoughts hit my mind again, but this time they''re different. Focused. Hungry. And behind those thoughts, I feel something else watching. Something vast and cold and patient, studying me through the dragon''s eyes like a scientist observing an interesting bacterium. "Run," Aai whispers, pushing me. "Beta, ru¡ª" She stops and starts to turn, her kohl-lined eyes wide with terror. I have never seen my mother¡¯s face form that expression before. That look of utter horror. ¡°Nahi!¡± Aai¡¯s scream cuts through everything as orange fire fills my world. Through melting eyes, I watch my world dissolve. The heat isn''t just around us anymore¡ªit''s inside us, turning bones to liquid, flesh to smoke. My hand is still sticky with cotton candy as it melts into my sister''s dissolving fingers. Aai tries to scream but her throat is already gone, turned to vapor in the impossible flames. The pain is beyond anything I could have imagined. My skin bubbles and runs like candle wax. My bones show through as flesh melts away. The wooden charm around my neck burns into my chest, leaving a mark that will echo across lifetimes. Through melting eyes, I see Aai and Arun and Asha burning too. Their bodies come apart in the otherworldly flames, just like Baba¡¯s did. Just like everyone¡¯s did. Just like everyone will, again and again, until I learn enough, grow enough, become enough to stop it. I taste metal. My teeth soften, run like mercury. The wooden charm around my neck¡ªthe one Baba carved for my seventh birthday¡ªburns into my chest like a brand. Through the pain, those alien thoughts are still there, watching, measuring, choosing. As my body comes apart in the dragon fire, I see Mumbai burning through a thousand eyes at once. The city flows like wax beneath wings of bone and shadow. The Gateway of India crumbles into the sea. Dharavi''s endless maze of slums ignites like paper. High-rises fold in on themselves, their glass and steel running like tears. Above it all, through that crack in the sky, more shapes keep coming. More dragons. More riders. More death. The carousel music plays on, cheerful and endless, as my consciousness starts to fade. The last thing I see is the carousel, still turning, its melting horses forever prancing in their endless circle. The last thing I hear is Asha''s final breath beside me, a sound like a broken prayer. The last thing I feel is purpose¡ªvast and terrible and clear. Something vast and cold reaches into what''s left of my mind, marking me, choosing me, changing me. As my consciousness fades, I hear the dragon¡¯s final message, not in my mind but in my soul: welcome/begin/remember Then everything goes dark. And somewhere in that darkness, something ancient smiles. This is how it begins. This is how it always begins. [GAME STATE: INITIALIZING] Player: Vish Naman Status: Dead Revival: Pending Message: The tutorial is complete Status: Initiating Transfer to Predator Planet [SYSTEM: FULLY ONLINE] Tutorial: Complete First Death: Recorded Loop: Initializing Message: Welcome to Predator Planet, Vish Naman You are now ready to begin basic training. [Player Status: Vish Naman] Level: 0 Deaths: 1 Loops: 0 Skills Unlocked: - Survival Instinct (Level 1) - Mental Fortitude (Level 1) - Reality Recognition (Level 1) Special Status: Marked Hidden Potential: [CALCULATING...] Status: The Drop - Loading... Chapter Three: Drop Ship Troopers [System Boot Sequence Initiated] Location: Drop Ship DS-2187 Status: Pre-Jump Time Since First Death: 37 seconds Memory Upload: Complete ¡°Karmanye vadhikaraste ma phaleshu kadachana.¡± The Sanskrit words from the Bhagavad Gita echo in my mind as our drop ship punches through the upper atmosphere. My mother¡¯s voice was sweet and melodious as she recited the Sanskrit shloka by memory. The sound of monsoon rain drumming on our tin roof formed a backdrop to her words. We were both seated cross legged on the stone floor of our kholi in Dharavi. I remember asking Aai what they meant. [Ancient Knowledge Detected] Source: Bhagavad Gita, ancient Indian treatise on war Wisdom Path: Unlocking Special Effect: Mental Fortitude +2 Hidden Requirement: Understanding through loss ¡°It means ¡®Do your duty with no concern for the fruits of your actions,¡¯¡± she said as she stirred our thin dinner. As I remember her words, the smell of kerosene smoke fills my nose, as real now as it was then. ¡°These are Krishna¡¯s words to the warrior Arjuna before the great battle of Kurukshetra. Arjuna doesn¡¯t want to fight because he sees his own family members, his teachers, people he loves on the other side. But Krishna tells him that a warrior¡¯s duty is to fight¡ªnot for victory, not for glory, not even for survival, but because it is his dharma to fight.¡± "But Aai," I protest, "we''re not warriors. We¡¯re not even Hindus. We''re just..." I can''t finish. Just outcastes. Untouchables. Just street sweepers. Just surviving. She cups my face in her work-roughened hands, and I can feel their warmth, smell the harsh cleaning chemicals that never quite wash away. "You don¡¯t have to be a Hindu to appreciate wisdom, beta. Just as you don''t have to wear a soldier¡¯s uniform to be a warrior. The Gita is a treatise on the art of war. Our very survival is a war. Every day is a battle, and our countrymen, the very people who should be our brothers and sisters, seek only to keep us down and trample us into the dirt. Our very existence offends them, forcing us to fight for even the most basic rights every day of our lives. That makes you a warrior. Survival itself is your dharma." She touches the wooden charm that now hangs against my chest. "Never forget it." I haven''t forgotten, Aai. I''m about to prove it. [Player Status Update] Name: Vish Naman Title: SlumDog Role: Draft Immigrant/Marked One Level: 0 Class: Unassigned Special Status: System Recognized Current Goal: Survive the Drop The drop ship¡¯s interior reminds me of a metal coffin designed by committee. Harsh blue strips of light pulse along the ceiling, matching the rhythm of the ship¡¯s quantum drive. The light makes everyone look sick, highlighting the fear in their eyes, the sweat on their faces. We¡¯re arranged in four rows of spring-loaded jump seats, each one a self-contained launch pod for when the floor drops away. [Environmental Analysis] Drop Ship Class: DS-2187 ¡°Coffin Carrier¡± Crew: 30 recruits Survival Probability: 0.06% The battle suit pinches everywhere, especially around my ribs. It¡¯s a Mark IV Prometheus model, designed for peak human performance. I am not peak human. I¡¯m about as far from it as the suit¡¯s designers could have imagined. [Equipment Status] Item: Mark IV Prometheus Battle Suit Compatibility: 23% Power Output: Reduced Special Note: Underqualified user Warning: Performance limited by physical stats [Current Stats] Strength: 12/100 Agility: 8/100 Endurance: 7/100 Note: Malnutrition penalties active When I was processed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, and had to strip down for my physical, the doctor examining me said that he had never seen a sorrier case of malnutrition. He spoke to the sergeant handling my intake and I heard him say that if they sent me out in the field, I wouldn¡¯t last more than a few seconds contact with the enemy. The sergeant told him to stamp my intake form and mind his own beeswax. I open my eyes and look around, reorienting myself to the interior of the drop ship and the other members of the squad to which I was reassigned only minutes before deployment. [Squad Analysis Initiated] Processing: BOOT421 Members Compatibility Check: Running Warning: Social integration unlikely Around me, Platoon BOOT421 deals with pre-drop stress in different ways: Ajax ¡°Tank¡± Rourke [Level 3 Berserker] - Strength: 75/100 - Defense: 82/100 - Special Ability: Rage Amplification Current Action: Cracking knuckles, stress response Mira ¡°Havoc¡± Santori [Level 2 Precision Hunter] - Accuracy: 91/100 - Stealth: 88/100 - Special Ability: Perfect Shot Current Action: Muttering combat mantras Renji ¡°Ghost¡± Nakamura [Level 2 Technomancer] - Tech: 94/100 - Hacking: 87/100 - Special Ability: Digital Wraith Current Action: System shock, vomiting in helmet Kara ¡°Wraith¡± Solheim [Level 2 Velocity Striker]Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. - Speed: 89/100 - Reflexes: 92/100 - Special Ability: Time Perception Current Action: Checking suit seals compulsively Dmitri ¡°Iron¡± Petrov [Level 3 Combat Medic] - Healing: 85/100 - Resilience: 90/100 - Special Ability: Crisis Time Current Action: Praying in Russian Gabriel ¡°Prophet¡± Khan [Level 4 Battle Seer] - Prediction: 93/100 - Strategy: 95/100 - Special Ability: Future Sight Current Action: Watching with knowing eyes [Your Status Among Squad] Integration: Minimal Trust Level: 0 Combat Value: Perceived as Negative Hidden Potential: [REDACTED] The nanofabric keeps trying to adjust, sending little ripples of discomfort across my skin. Each time it shifts, the suit¡¯s internal display flashes new warnings about my suboptimal physical condition. Malnutrition. Muscle density insufficient. Bone density below acceptable parameters. The statistics of poverty appear in glowing red text across my vision. I touch the wooden charm against my chest, the last memento I have of my former life. One of my former lives, if you count the times I died at that mela five years ago. I don¡¯t know how many times the Mega-AI had to scan through all the parallel worlds to find the alpha world on which I didn¡¯t die, but it must have run into six or seven digits for sure. Sometimes, I dream of those alternate timelines, the many lives in which I perished along with my entire family, and when I do, I feel the pain and trauma of those many deaths. The burn scar beneath the wooden charm throbs with phantom pain¡ªa perfect memory of orange flame and melting flesh. Of Baba dissolving into light. Of Aai trying to shield me with her body. Of Arun¡¯s final scream. Of Asha¡¯s hand reaching for mine as we both burned. [Memory Core: Active] First Death: Perfectly Preserved Purpose: Crystallizing Evolution Path: Opening System Note: Pain becomes power ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna be sick,¡± Ghost announces from the back row. Before anyone can react, he triggers his helmet seal and vomits inside it. The suit¡¯s recycling systems kick in with a whir. ¡°Better in than out, grunt!¡± That¡¯s Tank, our heavy assault specialist, grinning as if this is just another day at the office. [Social Dynamics Analysis] Squad Cohesion: Low Stress Levels: Critical Your Integration Chance: 3% Hidden Factor: Your true purpose ¡°Anyone else find it funny?¡± drawls Havoc, her voice dry. ¡°How we¡¯re about to drop onto a planet full of people who agreed to die just so we could practice killing them?¡± She laughs, but there¡¯s an edge to it. ¡°Like, what kind of messed up cosmic joke is that?¡± [Reality Check: Initiated] Predator Planet Status: Training Ground Population: Voluntary Sacrifices Purpose: Perfect your killing Note: Every death is a teachable moment Through the viewport, I watch stars blur past. Somewhere out there is Predator Planet, waiting for us. Somewhere out there, the System is watching. And somewhere beyond that, in the vast network of dragon-minds I glimpsed during my first death, something ancient and cold is aware and observing. Waiting. [ForeverGame Status: LIVE] Tutorial: Complete Real Training: Beginning Deaths Remaining: Infinite [Biometric Alert] Core Temperature: 39.2¡ãC Infection Status: Chronic Historical Data: Recurring Malaria Warning: Subject compromised The suit¡¯s metal joints bite into my skin like ice, a sharp contrast to the fever I can feel building behind my eyes. That last bout of malaria never really went away¡ªwe couldn¡¯t afford the full course of treatment, just enough pills to keep me functional. I can feel it lurking in my blood, waiting for moments of weakness. [Medical Scan Initiated] Detecting: - Plasmodium vivax (dormant) - Chronic malnutrition - Respiratory inflammation - Immune system: Compromised ¡°Hey Gandhi,¡± Tank calls out, his perfect white teeth flashing. ¡°You sure that suit¡¯s not gonna fall right off those chicken bones of yours?¡± A few nervous laughs ripple through the hold. They¡¯re all scared, trying to hide it with bravado. ¡°My name is Vish Naman,¡± I say through clenched teeth. ¡°How about you call me Vish?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± Tank laughs. ¡°You look like Gandhi to me, so why don¡¯t I just stick to calling you Gandhi!¡± I glare at him. ¡°How would you like it if I call you Abraham Lincoln?¡± After a surprised pause, the entire squad breaks out in laughter. Even the pilot and co-pilot up front in the cockpit, on the same com band as the squad for now, glance back over their shoulders at me with grins. ¡°Kid¡¯s got a point, Tank,¡± Havoc says. ¡°Even Dmitri here was offended, and he¡¯s the Russian version of an incel proud boy, ain¡¯t that right, Iron?¡± ¡°Fuck you, Santori,¡± Iron replies. ¡°Anytime, anywhere,¡± Havoc replies. ¡°Hope you like it in the ass though, that¡¯s how I roll.¡± ¡°Beggin¡¯ for a peggin¡¯!¡± Wraith sings out. ¡°You ladies about done?¡± Iron says. ¡°In fact, I was about to agree with Havoc. Tank, don¡¯t dish it if you can¡¯t take it!¡± ¡°Ok, wiseass,¡± Tank grumbles. ¡°Fuck y¡¯all if you can¡¯t take a joke.¡± [Equipment Compensation] Suit Status: Adjusting Temperature Delta: -3.2¡ãC Oxygen Mix: Enhanced Warning: Performance degrading The suit¡¯s temperature regulators whir, fighting against my rising fever. My breath feels hot enough to scald, fogging the helmet¡¯s interior despite the environmental controls. The metal collar chafes against an old scar¡ªa reminder of the time I fell into a sewage drain while helping Baba with his work. We couldn¡¯t afford antibiotics then either. ¡°Vish?¡± Ghost leans forward in his harness. ¡°What¡¯s that stand for? Wishy washy? Or did your folks just hate you too much to give you a normal American name?¡± ¡°Will you guys just let him be already,¡± snaps Havoc. ¡°Kid¡¯s just filling in for some rich senator¡¯s kid. A draft-for-cash deal. He¡¯s probably just here to bail out his family from debt. Right, kid?¡± I don¡¯t bother to answer though it¡¯s true. [Warning: Recruit social cohesion suboptimal. Team dynamics: Critical] The Gnats swarm closer, sensing drama. A holohost materializes, its algorithms detecting the perfect moment for viewer engagement across the alphaverse. ¡°Speaking of draft-for-cash deals,¡± our assigned holohost¡¯s perfect features arrange themselves into practiced curiosity, ¡°Recruit Vish Naman, our viewers are quite interested in the Draft Immigration Act that brought you here. Would you care to comment on the controversy surrounding wealthy Americans securing exemptions by recruiting foreign replacements?¡± [Active Interview Request: Response required within 30 seconds or Recruit will incur -50 CAP penalty. Current Balance: 100 CAP ($743.21 USD)] I think of Senator Harrison¡¯s son, who I replaced. How he looked at me with relief and disgust when I signed the papers. Just over thirty million rupees for young Ron Harrison to avoid service. More money than my family would have seen in a lifetime. But to him, or to any American for that matter, it¡¯s less than $25,000, the equivalent of less than a year¡¯s pay for a janitor, which is what our caste would be called in his country. That money was a lifesaver for my mother and sister, who were all I had left in the world. It came with US citizenship and a guarantee: an additional thirty million rupees ($25,000) wired to my family if I died serving my new country. Senator Harrison¡¯s lawyer had shown me the money, already secure in an escrow account, before I signed the contract. I could explain all that, explain how the Necromancer¡¯s War, besides causing widespread death and destruction, had devastated the world economy, with the developing countries hit the hardest, and produced record levels of inflation in India, making subsistence on labor-class wages impossible. It was only thanks to the US economy coming out stronger and the US dollar value increasing manifold due to its leadership position in the UAPA¨Cthe United Alpha Planetary Alliance¨Cthat the sum of $25,000 still had value. And that my contract included the best available medical attention for my mother for the duration of my service, or, in the event of my death while on duty, for the rest of her natural life. Or that she and my sister now occupied the modest house that was part of the deal: modest by US standards, but an unimaginable level of security that we could never have dreamed of acquiring back in Mumbai. I could explain how, without that contract, my mother would probably have been dead in a few weeks. My sister and I would have been homeless, not merely slumdogs but reduced to the lowest level possible. Street rats reduced to homeless starvation, sleeping on filthy pavements, easy prey to the countless predators and gangs, as well as venal policemen. How the United States in the form of Senator Harrison had quite literally saved our asses and given us the possibility of a better life. If I died on this drop, as was more than likely, at least I would die knowing I had secured Aai¡¯s and Asha¡¯s future, and I would die honoring Baba¡¯s and Arun¡¯s sacrifices and serving my new country. The Great American Dream? Not quite. The Great American Immigrant Dream? Yeah, maybe. But I say none of these things. Not to the holohost and his potentially countless viewers. Not to my squad members, whom I sense are watching and listening. I don¡¯t think they give a damn about me or my life story, but for better or worse, we¡¯re comrades in arms about to go into battle and they¡¯d like to know who is this skinny guy in the suit and is he going to be an asset or liability under fire. I¡¯m not going to tell my story to anyone because it¡¯s so pathetic, I don¡¯t know whether to laugh or cry when I think it over. I¡¯m no sad sack. I¡¯m not going to end my brief military career telling my tragic life saga to strangers. Fuck that. Chapter Four: Dragon on our Wing The holohost gestures to the Drop Ship filled with my squad members, all rigged out in metal combat suits like my own. ¡°Welcome back, bruhfam! We¡¯re still on the Drop Ship with BootSquad#421. We¡¯re having some trouble getting a straight answer¨Cor any answer¨Cfrom new recruit Vish Naman here. Why do we care about this particular rec out of all the other meatbags out there in the UAPA? I¡¯ll tell you why!¡± The Gnats swarm around me, their micro-lasers lighting me up so the microcams can capture my malnourished, skinny assed ¡°Gandhi¡± bod in all its 97-lbs weakling glory. I ignore them, staring dead ahead into the far wall of the fuselage of the Drop Ship and through it, to the lower atmosphere of Predator Planet. I don¡¯t give a fuck about how I look to the millions of channel surfing couch rats out there on infinite versions of our Earth watching this shitshow. I¡¯m focusing on the drop that¡¯s only minutes away, where I get abandoned on a strange, hostile planet where unknown things are likely to kill me within minutes of landing on its surface. ¡°For those of you just surfing in, Vish Naman an outcaste street sweeper¡¯s son from a Mumbai slum who lost his father, then his brother, and spent his teen years struggling to eke out a survival level income to help support his struggling mother and younger sister and keep them safe in the aftermath of the greatest global disaster in human history.¡± The holohost drones on, retelling my sob story to their viewers. Probably because the Mega-AI shows that I stand a fractionally better chance of getting engagement than most of the other typical hardcore soldiers out there. Well, boo fucking hoo. Cue the orchestra of tiny violins. Holohost turns the full glare of their limelight on my face, forcing me to blink to re-orient my vision. ¡°So tell us, Vish Naman, how does it feel to be landing on the same Predator Planet where your elder brother died only a short while after his own boot camp training began a few years ago? Do you feel the pain of his loss? Does it make you wonder if it¡¯s a family curse? That you¡¯re going to go out the same way? Or do you think you¡¯re going to buck the odds and survive longer than he did. Maybe even survive the first day? Tell us, Vish Naman, do you feel lucky or do you feel lucky!¡± I turn my head to stare at the cluster of Gnats that seem to think they have the most engagement-triggering angle on me. I hold my gaze, stony and unrevealing, giving away nothing. Am I going to spill my guts to this holohost reporter and their viewers on multiple Alphaverse versions of Earth? Nope. No way. No how. Never gonna happen. I¡¯d rather die unknown and unsung than tell that fucking sob story. ¡°Fuck off,¡± I say now, watching my Social Rating tick down. ¡°Fascinating!¡± holohost¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t waver a millimeter. ¡°The recruit commits PR suicide before his career even started! Have you ever seen anything like it, bruhs? Is he just feeble-minded or socially ignorant? Does he know the amount of potential sponsorship and advertising dollars he just missed out on? Probably not! One thing¡¯s for sure now. Whatever else happens to this guy, this SlumDog ain¡¯t gonna become no Millionaire!¡± ¡°Shut your traps and stow the chitchat!¡± The Mega-AI cuts through everything. ¡°Hyperscience signature detected. Battlemage incoming. Look sharp, Marines! You bunch of lowlifes are about to rub shoulders with the pride of the Alliance!¡± [Reality Breach Imminent] Timeline: Converging Dimensional Stability: 47% Your Stability: 12% Note: The fever helps you see Through the viewport, space itself begins to twist. The movement sends a wave of nausea through me¡ªor maybe that¡¯s the malaria, or the hunger that never really goes away. The metal restraints press against my ribs, each one a point of aching cold against feverish skin. I can count my ribs through the suit¡¯s inner lining. The doctor at Fort Campbell wasn¡¯t wrong about that. [Neural Enhancement Active] Sensory Input: Heightened Pain Integration: Processing Reality Recognition: Expanding Special Note: Suffering is also a teachable moment A rip tears open in the fabric of reality, and They burst through: Battlemage Keras astride dragon partner Eclipse, their forms wrapped in crackling energy. At once, I¡¯m triggered, my past lives trauma sending me hurtling back through my multiple-world memories into my twelve year old self, crouching behind an asbestos sheet at the Chhatrapati Park Mela as a malevolent necro-dragon opens its mouths to immolate everyone I love. Mega-AI roars in our heads: ¡°Battlemage incoming! Show some respect, Marines! You¡¯re looking at one of the veteran superstars of the Alliance!¡± Through a purple rip in the sky, they emerge. Wardragon and Battlemage, mount and rider bonded together in a power pair that can manipulate the very grain of reality. The only beings formidable enough to confront and, in sufficient numbers, overpower even the fearsome might of the Necro-Dragons. Sheathed in a purple lattice of power streaks, the great dragon and its rider stabilize after their emergence, flying smoothie alongside us the way an F-16 might fly beside a troop carrier back on our Earth. Except that this beast and its rider are far more formidable than any jet fighter our technology ever invented. The enormous beast barely seems to move its wings as it keeps pace with our nuclear powered Drop Ship, riding invisible ley lines of power as easily as a bald eagle might ride the high air currents. The sight reminds me of the temple paintings Aai used to show me of Vritra, the ancient Indian mythic forebear of dragonkind. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Ghost whispers. ¡°They¡¯re really real.¡± [Memory Trigger: Active] First Death Pain: Phantom Emotional Response: Integrated Power Source: Activating The dragon¡¯s scales shimmer with impossible colors. Its bulk is intimidating. It¡¯s bigger than our entire ship. I¡¯m thankful it¡¯s on our side but its presence is triggering to my many death memories. The Battlemage¡¯s armor pulses with mage science circuits. They call it sorcerience. As they draw closer, I see how their energies mesh¡ªhuman and dragon essence flowing together in patterns that hurt my fever-bright eyes to look at. My hands shake as I grip the restraints, knuckles white beneath skin that¡¯s too pale, too thin. The suit tries to compensate, nanofibers tightening to steady my grip, but some weaknesses go too deep for technology to fix. [Biometric Warning] Muscle Density: Critical Skeletal Structure: Compromised Cellular Integrity: 34% Evolution Path: Opening Then Eclipse turns its head, and our eyes meet through the viewport. curiosity/recognition/assessment [Neural Bridge: Forming] Connection Type: Enhanced Fever Effect: AmplifyingEnjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Reality Perception: Expanding The alien thoughts crash into my mind like a tidal wave, stronger than before, amplified by my fever-heightened senses. The metal restraints feel like brands against my skin now, burning cold while my core temperature soars. Through the delirium-edge of consciousness, I see flashes of impossible memories: Soaring through storms of dark magic Burning entire armies to ash The deep bond between dragon and rider The vast network of minds across realities The cold dark thing waiting at the center of it all [Warning: Neural Load Critical] Brain Temperature: 40.1¡ãC Consciousness: Wavering Reality Lock: Failing Note: Your weakness is sight ¡°LISTEN UP, YOU PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR SOLDIERS!¡± the Mega-AI booms. ¡°YOU¡¯RE ABOUT TO WITNESS HISTORY! PLATOON BOOT421 WILL ATTEMPT THE FIRST-EVER COMBAT DROP IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING A DIMENSIONAL JUMP! CURRENT ODDS FAVOR A 40% SURVIVAL RATE FOR THE DROP ITSELF! AND DON¡¯T FORGET TO SMILE FOR THE FOLKS BACK HOME¨CREMEMBER, YOU¡¯RE ON HOLO 24/7 FROM NOW ON. BETTING POOLS ARE NOW OPEN. SPEAKING OF WHICH, YOU CAN GET IN ON THE ACTION TOO, MAGGOTS. LIFE IN THE UNITED DEFENSE FORCE IS ALWAYS A GAMBLE BUT AT LEAST YOU CAN PROFIT OFF YOUR OWN DEATH!¡± The ship lurches as Keras and Eclipse begin their work. Reality fractures like breaking glass. Through the spreading cracks, I catch glimpses of other worlds¡ªsome burning, some dead, some overrun by the Necromancer¡¯s forces. I see New Delhi in flames, dragons with rotting wings circling its ruins. Mumbai¡¯s towers transformed into spires of black crystal. Somewhere in that infinite maze of parallel Earths is our target, Predator Planet, waiting. The jump hits like a sledgehammer to the soul. Colors that shouldn¡¯t exist sear my retinas. My bones try to occupy the same space as themselves across a thousand dimensions. The wooden charm burns against my chest like a coal. The fever spikes, and suddenly I¡¯m nine years old again, burning in dragon fire, watching my family melt¡ª Time loses meaning. I see fragments of other jumps, other platoons, other versions of ourselves scattered across infinity. In one reality, we¡¯ve already died. In another, we never lived at all. The boundaries between what is and what could be blur like wet paint. Through it all, I cling to Aai¡¯s teachings, to Krishna¡¯s words. Do your duty without attachment to the fruits of your actions. The struggle itself is our dharma. Even here, between moments, between worlds, between breaths of scalding air in a freezing suit, that shloka still applies. In essence, Krishna¡¯s timeless words to his disciple Arjuna are not that dissimilar to the mindset of an American soldier, which is what I am now, thanks to my taking Senator Harrison¡¯s deal and becoming a citizen of the United States of America, courtesy the Draft Immigration Act. Follow orders, kick ass, and leave the rest to God, soldier. ¡°WAKE UP AND SMELL THE MONSTER BLOOD, SHITBOOTS!¡± The Mega-AI¡¯s drill sergeant tone cuts through my thoughts. Reality snaps back with the force of a punch to the face. Through fever-bright eyes, I see our destination: Predator Planet. Our equivalent of Boot Camp. Basic training under fire. ¡°DROP COUNTDOWN INITIATED, YOU SORRY EXCUSES FOR SOLDIERS!¡± the Mega-AI bellows. ¡°HATCHES OPENING IN 10... 9...¡± ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± the holohost addresses their audiences in perfect sync, ¡°you¡¯re about to witness history. Platoon BOOT421 will attempt the first-ever combat drop immediately following a dimensional jump. Current odds favor a 40% survival rate for the drop itself. Betting pools are now open, sponsored by¡ª¡± ¡°Hey Gandhi,¡± Tank calls out, his voice shaking. ¡°Try not to die too quick. I got fifty CAP riding on you lasting at least an hour.¡± ¡°8... 7...¡± Iron almost drops his rosary and stops reciting to curse. ¡°6... 5...¡± Havoc¡¯s laughter has turned to hiccuping sobs. ¡°4... 3...¡± Wraith begins a prayer in Spanish. ¡°2... 1...¡± The floor vanishes. My stomach lurches into my throat as we plummet into nothingness. The suit¡¯s heads-up display floods with numbers: [Altitude: 47,392 meters] [Terminal Velocity Approaching] [Multiple Suit Systems Critical] [Formation Integrity: FAILED] We¡¯re supposed to maintain delta formation during the drop. That plan lasts exactly two seconds before the wind tears us apart. Bodies tumble through the sky like broken dolls. The Gnats somehow maintain perfect formation around us, capturing every moment of terror in 16K resolution. Other dropships are dropping their squads all around us, filling the sky with flailing bodies, rushing towards their deaths. My visor screen flashes the names of my fellow recruits as I look at them, the augmented vision automatically zooming in to focus on whatever I look at. I know none of these people personally but we all went through the same intake process together at Fort Campbell, which makes us comrades at arms, I guess. A recruit¡¯s scream cuts through our comms. He¡¯s spiraling, arms flailing, trajectory carrying him straight toward a dropship. I watch in horrific detail as his enhanced body hits the intake vent of the ship¡¯s engine. The vent vacuums him in. Blood sprays in an arc across the sky, fine red mist catching the morning sun. His vitals flatline on my HUD with a single harsh tone. [Alert: Recruit Thompson - Status: Terminated] [Cause of Death: Massive trauma] [Viewer Engagement: Spike detected] [New betting pools opening...] ¡°Stay in formation!¡± A platoon sergeant¡¯s voice crackles through the comms. ¡°Level out! Level¡ª¡± His words end in a gurgle. Something big and dark with sharp beaks and razor claws snags him with a swipe. His body cartwheels away, leaving a trail of sparks and blood. Rodriguez is next. She¡¯s among the strongest of our platoon, body pumped full of military-grade augments, but strength means nothing in free fall. She tries to activate her suit¡¯s stabilizers, but we¡¯re coming in too steep. I watch her slam into the glass side of a metal tower. The impact turns her lower body to pulp instantly. She hangs there for a moment, still alive, hands scrabbling against the glass, leaving bloody streaks as she slides down fifty stories. [Alert: Recruit Caracas - Status: Terminated] [Cause of Death: Catastrophic impact trauma] [Time of Death: 27 seconds after first impact] [Viewer Count: 6.2M and climbing] The Zhang twins try to reach each other, their synchronized movements finally breaking after twenty years. The older twin¡¯s stabilizer misfires, sending her into a spiral. Her sister attempts a mid-air rescue. Their fingers brush, just barely missing. One disappears into a bank of clouds. The other¡¯s scream echoes through our comms until static takes her too. Williams doesn¡¯t even make it that far. His suit malfunctions. The battery sparks and flames out, sending fifty thousand volts through his suit. The electricity cooks him alive inside his armor. I smell burning meat through my own filters. [Warning: Multiple recruit signatures lost] [Current Survival Rate: 37% and falling] [Impact with surface imminent] [Recommended Action: PRAY] Cooper¡¯s mad laughter bubbles through the comms. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it?¡± he shouts as he tumbles past me. ¡°We¡¯re all just entertainment! We¡¯re¡ª¡± His words cut off as something snatches him out of the air even before he hits the ground. The sound of the unseen enemy crushing his armor reminds me of my father once cracking a walnut shell with his back teeth, just to prove he could do it. I remember him spitting out bits of walnut shell and grinning as he took the ten rupees the other guy had bet against him, then winking at me. My own suit screams warnings I can barely process. The ground rushes up to meet me at an impossible velocity. [Critical Alert: Impact in 3...] I think of Aai¡¯s words about duty. About fighting because you must fight. [...2...] I think of Krishna¡¯s teaching about action without attachment to outcome. [...1...] [Survival Probability: 6.2%] [Impact Force: Lethal] [Last Will & Testament Recording: Initiated] [Viewer Count: 7.1M] [Betting Odds Against Survival: 157000000:1] [Final Status: BRACE FOR IMPACT] The mist-shrouded ground rushes up to meet me. Time slows. The Gnats are clustered around me again, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. They¡¯re bunched tight together now, forming a contiguous smooth surface roughly shaped like a mirrored egg, probably to make their rapid descent aerodynamic so they can keep pace with me. If they¡¯re here that means the Mega-AI has calculated the odds of my dying are above 99%. Which makes me, wait for it, a One Percenter! I laugh bitterly. Oh yeah. The Great American Immigrant Dream for real. The egg-shaped surface of the bunched Gnats creates a convex mirror, like the ones in the funhouse at the mela where it all began. I see my grossly distorted reflection in the transparent surface¡ªa skinny boy in an ill-fitting battle suit, about to become another statistic. Another Draft Immigrant who didn¡¯t make it. Another bloody show for the masses. Okay then. Watch me die and be entertained. I shoot the Gnats a double birdie to show them how much I care about my ratings and popularity numbers. Right before I hit the ground like a bag of bricks. [Update: Recruit: Vish] Survival Rating: Critical Combat Level: F Physical Condition: Severely Undernourished Current CAP: 50 Active Viewers: 7.1M Special Notes: Chapter Five: Boots on the Ground Consciousness returns slowly, like wading through thick mud. Everything feels distant, muffled, as if I''m swimming up from the depths of an endless ocean. Random sensations filter in one by one: the taste of copper in my mouth, a ringing in my ears that slowly fades to silence, the weight of the battle suit pressing against my skin. The first clear thing I register is that I''m lying on my back on something both hard and slightly yielding¡ªa surface with an odd, latticed texture that seems to give just enough to keep my spine from screaming in protest. My thoughts feel sluggish, struggling to piece together how I got here, what happened after the drop. [Consciousness Status: Rebooting] [Pain Level Assessment: Running...] [Sensory Input: Resuming] [Neural Functions: 47% and climbing] Images flash through my mind: the drop ship''s floor vanishing beneath us, bodies tumbling through endless sky, the ground rushing up to meet me. I remember the Gnats forming their egg-shaped configuration around me, remember giving them the double bird right before impact. After that... nothing. My visor''s heads-up display flickers to life, scrolling through its startup sequence. The readouts paint the air in front of me with ghostly blue text, analyzing everything from atmospheric composition to radiation levels. According to the data, the air here is pretty similar to Earth''s, except much cleaner and toxin-free. No industrial pollutants, no vehicle emissions, no trace of the thousand poisons that humans pump into their atmosphere. That indicates a pre-industrialization world, according to my briefings. Maybe even pre-civilization. Or maybe post-civilization. The thought sends a chill down my spine. The visor continues its analysis, measuring oxygen levels, detecting trace gases, running toxicity scans. After half a decade of interaction with the Vritrans and other Alphaverse planets, there''s been no shortage of information about the other Earthlike worlds in the UAPA. One thing we know for certain is that no two worlds are exactly alike, even when they seem to be at first glance. The other thing we know is that some Earths are really, unbelievably, not like our Earth. Looking at these readings, at the strange composition of trace elements that shouldn''t exist in nature, I''m thinking the latter case applies here. My heart pounds a little faster as I consider what that might mean. The suit''s medical sensors note the elevation in my pulse, adjusting something in the synthetic adrenaline mix that''s probably the only reason I''m conscious right now. Even though the visor clearly tells me the air is safe, I still hesitate before unlocking my helmet. The curved transparent faceplate slides into its frame with barely a whisper, the seals releasing with a soft hiss. The first breath of alien air hits me like a physical thing. It''s cool and moist against my skin, carrying a dampness that immediately reminds me of monsoon season. The moisture beads on my face, running down my neck in tiny rivulets that feel uncomfortably like sweat. When I finally dare to take a deeper breath, the air that fills my lungs is thick with organic particles. It carries a complex bouquet of smells that hits me like a punch to the gut: rotting vegetation, flowering vines, fungal blooms... the usual stinky soup of any uninhabited, wild arboreal environment. And something else¡ªsomething that tastes like ozone and wet stone on my tongue. The kind of smell that comes right before a lightning strike, but stronger, more pervasive, as if the whole atmosphere is charged with some kind of energy I can''t quite understand. The scent triggers a sudden, sharp memory: five-year-old me, standing beside my father in our ancestral village in the jungles of Central India. I can see him so clearly¡ªhis calloused hands gesturing at different plants, his voice patient as he teaches me how to identify medicinal herbs by their smell alone. The heavy mist of the monsoon season wreathed the jungle around us in ghostly tendrils, just like the mist that surrounds me now. The parallel is so strong it makes my chest ache. I push the memory away, a tight knot forming in my chest. Nostalgia is a luxury I can''t afford right now. Focus on now. I assess my physical condition without any hope or expectation. By all rights, I should be dead. The impact velocity alone should have shattered every bone in my body, battle suit or no battle suit. The fact that I''m conscious at all makes no sense, and in my experience, things that make no sense usually mean trouble. [Physical Assessment Initiated] [Scanning for Injuries...] [Damage Level: Calculating...] [Bone Density Analysis: Processing] [Soft Tissue Scan: Active] I start with my extremities, working methodically inward. I wiggle my toes first, then flex my ankles, waiting for the explosion of pain that should come with compound fractures. Nothing. I rotate my wrists, watching the suit''s servos adjust smoothly to each movement. I bend my elbows, roll my shoulders, arch my back slightly. Still nothing. Not even a twinge. What the fuck? [Injury Assessment Complete] [Damage Level: 0%] [Status: Unexpectedly Intact] [Probability: 0.0089%] [System Note: Interesting...] [Anomaly Detection: Active] The mist pressing against my exposed face is so thick I can barely see my own outstretched hand. Tendrils of white vapor curl around my fingers like living things, making familiar shapes seem alien and wrong. But I''m alive. Somehow, impossibly, I''m alive and whole. And that, more than anything else, makes me deeply uneasy. Because in my experience, when impossible things happen, they usually happen for a reason.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. And the reasons are rarely good. I push myself to my feet, the movement cautious despite the lack of pain. The ground beneath my boots gives slightly with each shift of weight, like walking on dense foam. The sensation is disconcerting¡ªno natural terrain should feel this uniformly springy. Each step makes the surface compress and rebound, sending tiny ripples outward through whatever strange material I''m standing on. The suit''s stabilizers whir as they compensate for the unstable footing. The servos in my boots keep adjusting and readjusting, trying to find solid purchase on a surface that seems to actively resist it. It''s like trying to walk on a waterbed, except the waterbed might be alive. I take another step, watching the ground react. The ripples spread out in geometric patterns that don''t match any natural wave propagation I''ve ever seen. They move too precisely, too deliberately, as if following some alien mathematics. I crouch down for a closer look, fighting back a wave of vertigo as the mist swirls around me. The surface has an intricate latticed pattern, reminiscent of honeycomb but more complex, with layers that seem to fold into themselves in impossible ways. My eyes struggle to follow the patterns¡ªthey shift and change when I try to focus on them, like an Escher drawing come to life. The texture appears organic rather than geological, spreading out in every direction through the mist. Some kind of massive fungal growth, perhaps? The color is difficult to determine in the diffuse light¡ªsomewhere between bone-white and ash-gray, with undertones that make my eyes hurt if I look too long. The longer I stare at it, the more wrong it seems. The patterns don''t repeat exactly, but they''re too regular to be natural. And there''s something about the way the surface responds to pressure that suggests... awareness? No, that''s crazy talk. But I can''t shake the feeling that this entire clearing is one vast, living thing. A sound cuts through my examination¡ªsomething between a click and a chirp, but with harmonics that set my teeth on edge. It''s like nothing I''ve ever heard before, a sound that shouldn''t be possible with Earth biology. My body tenses, combat training kicking in even as my malnourished muscles protest the sudden movement. The sound echoes strangely in the mist, making it impossible to pinpoint its source. Every instinct screams that I''m being watched. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I feel my skin break out in goosebumps despite the suit''s temperature regulation. [Status Update: Vish Naman] Level: 0 Health: 23/100 Strength: 12/100 Agility: 8/100 Endurance: 7/100 Special Status: System Marked Active Debuffs: - Chronic Malnutrition (-40% to all physical stats) - Recurring Malaria (-20% to stamina regeneration) - Battle Fatigue (-15% to reaction time) - Environmental Disorientation (-10% to perception) - Unknown Effect: ??? Combat Readiness: Critical Survival Rating: Sub-Optimal Hidden Potential: [CALCULATING...] Warning: Current stats critically below survival threshold System Note: Subject requires immediate upgrade path I blink away the status screen¡ªI don''t need numbers to tell me how pathetically weak I am. The suit''s systems flash more warnings about my suboptimal physical condition, numbers scrolling past in angry red text. Each one is a reminder of every meal I never had, every infection I couldn''t properly treat, every night spent sleeping on cold concrete instead of a proper bed. The sound comes again, closer this time. Something is moving through the mist-shrouded jungle around me, something that sounds like no Earth creature I''ve ever heard. The alienness of that sound makes my heart rate spike, and I taste copper in my mouth as adrenaline floods my system. [Warning: Adrenal Response Exceeding Safe Parameters] [Suit Compensating...] [Administering Stabilizers...] [Unknown Environmental Factor Detected] [Analysis: Inconclusive] My hands won''t stop shaking. The suit tries to compensate, nanomuscle fibers tightening to steady my grip, but some fears go too deep for technology to fix. I move cautiously through what I now realize is a clearing, surprised by how far away the nearest trees appear to be. The mist makes it difficult to judge distances, turning what might be meters into mysterious expanses of white haze. Each step sends ripples through the latticed ground beneath my feet, like walking across some vast living membrane. Some kind of organic fungal growth? It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m on an alien world, everything¡¯s going to be strange. Whatever evolutionary path this version of Earth took, it¡¯s not my job to study it. Just to survive it. [Ground Analysis Failed] [Surface Composition: Unknown] [Material Properties: Non-Standard] [Warning: Anomalous Energy Signatures Detected] The trees at the edge of the clearing loom like dark sentinels through the mist. Their shapes seem wrong somehow¡ªtoo tall, too straight, with branches that stretch out at impossible angles. But maybe that''s just the mist playing tricks on my eyes. Maybe everything looks alien when you''re alone on a strange world. Something moves again, accompanied by another of those alien sounds. This time, a stench hits me that makes me stagger¡ªand I grew up in Dharavi, where the central "pond" is more scum than water, a final resting place for windblown trash, discarded tires, and rusted metal. That pond, where we slum kids still swim anyway, smells like a flower garden compared to this. The stench is like nothing I''ve ever encountered. Not just bad, but wrong. It''s the kind of smell that suggests whatever made it evolved specifically to produce the most horrific stench possible. Like rotting meat left in the sun, but with undertones of burning plastic and something else¡ªsomething that makes my hindbrain want to curl up and die. [Warning: Unknown Chemical Compounds Detected] [Air Filtration: Maximum] [Toxicity Analysis: Inconclusive] [Recommendation: Reseal Helmet] I ignore the recommendation. The smell is definitely organic, definitely animal, and definitely fresh. It has an edge to it that speaks of predator, of hunter, of thing-that-kills. Even the suit''s filters can''t completely block it out. Each breath brings new notes to the horror¡ªhints of acid, of alien biochemistry, of evolutionary paths that should never have been taken. My hands tremble as I check my weapon, and it takes three tries to disengage the safety. The familiar weight of the rifle should be reassuring, but somehow it feels absurdly inadequate. What good is Earth weaponry against whatever could produce that kind of stench? What kind of creature would even need to evolve such a powerful deterrent? [Weapon Status: Armed] [Ammunition: Standard Penetrator Rounds] [Target Analysis: No Data] [Combat Effectiveness: Unknown] I begin to move, keeping my weapon up and ready, trying to control my breathing as panic claws at the edges of my mind. The stench is getting stronger. Whatever made it must be close. The mist swirls around me, thick enough to hide an army¡ªor something worse than an army. My finger tightens on the trigger. If anything moves, I shoot. Assuming I can even pull the trigger with my hands shaking this badly. Assuming whatever''s out there can even be hurt by bullets. The smell gets stronger, and with it comes a new sound¡ªa wet, sliding sort of noise that makes my skin crawl. It sounds big. It sounds hungry. [Threat Assessment: Processing...] [Biometric Warning: Heart Rate Elevated] [Adrenaline Levels: Spiking] [Survival Probability: Calculating...]