The morning was unusually quiet in the Srivastava household. A drip from the kitchen tap, the rustle of newspaper pages, and the occasional clang of vessels in the sink were the only reminders that this world still moved by mundane rhythms. Rudra sat on the edge of the cot, his legs swinging slightly, his eyes distant.
It had been two days since he had unlocked Vaelokh.
Two days since the bones of an empire had stirred beneath his command.
And in those two days, he hadn't spoken a word of it to anyone—not to Vinay, not to Aanya, and definitely not to his family. On the outside, everything was the same. He still caught the bus, still shared jokes during lectures, still stared at the ceiling fan in class when he was bored. But underneath it all, something shifted.
Because Rudra was starting to understand what power meant—not just the power to fight, or to destroy, but to create imbalance, to tip scales without lifting a sword.
That evening, after college, while his parents watched a soap opera and his sister hummed along to some film song in her room, Rudra lay in bed with the lights off, his hand pressed over his chest.
"Zix Core," he whispered.
> [Zix Core Active – Status: Synced with Avatar 2 (Vaelokh)]
> [Points Gained: +2132 in 48 hours]
> [Source: Realm 2 Chaos Surge – Civilian Panic, Spiritual Collapse, Military Defeat]
His breath caught.
Two thousand points. In two days. He hadn't lifted a finger. He had simply given Vaelokh permission to command the army.
And in return, the world bled, and the Zix Core fed.
He swallowed, not from fear, but from the weight of realization.
"This system doesn't reward action," he muttered. "It rewards effect. It doesn't care if I swing the blade. Only if the blade… hits."
He opened his palm.
> [Current Total Points: 2891]
He clenched his fist slowly.
Then the scene shifted again.
—
He found himself standing inside a floating chamber of the Bone Citadel — Vaelokh's airborne warship, a behemoth stitched from dragon skeletons and anti-gravity cores made of corrupted sunstones. From its sides, rivers of black mist spilled out and drenched the fields below, where cities once stood tall. Now, they burned. Not with fire, but with decay.
Entire stone walls had collapsed without a single strike. The mere presence of the undead near living civilizations was causing widespread hallucinations, disease outbreaks, and fear-based suicides. The cities of men — who had once followed the Hero of Light — were now deserted in confusion, their churches desecrated, their icons melting under silent winds.
Inside the throne room of the ship, Vaelokh stood before a map made of bone and ash.
He did not turn when Rudra entered.
"We have breached three cities," the Lich said calmly. "Two more remain in the Eastern Provinces. The Hero's army is delayed—he does not understand what he faces."
Rudra stepped beside him. "And the civilians?"
"Scattered. Most are already hallucinating that their gods abandoned them. My wraith priests spread panic sermons at night. Even without raising a sword, we hollow them out."
Rudra didn't flinch. "And my points go up."
Vaelokh nodded slowly. "Because you are creating irreversible echoes. You are rewriting history from behind the curtain. And the Zix Core... understands that chaos changes worlds."
Rudra looked out the window. Down below, a young knight in silver armor tried to rally villagers near the smoking ruins of a temple. His voice cracked. His legs shook. He would not last the night.
A small part of Rudra pitied him.
A larger part of him was measuring the yield — the points, the influence, the awakening.
"This world," Rudra said, "is feeding me."
"It is mirroring you," Vaelokh corrected. "The more you invest in entropy, the more it reflects. You are not a god. You are not a devil. You are something… rarer. A pivot."
Then Vaelokh raised his hand, and a skull-shaped crystal floated toward Rudra.
Inside the crystal, flickering like a trapped candle, was an image — a tall figure cloaked in golden armor, his face veiled by light, holding a blessed sword that shimmered like water.
Rudra squinted. "Who's that?"
"The enemy," Vaelokh said, his tone unreadable. "Or perhaps... the next piece."
The figure spoke in the vision, though the sound was faint.
> "I will not let the land rot. I swear upon Vishan, the Lord of Balance. I will purge every dead thing until light reclaims this world."
The crystal dimmed.
Rudra narrowed his eyes.
"That's the Hero?"
Vaelokh nodded once. "He has rallied the remains of the old order. Priests, knights, monks, scribes. He leads the living with sincerity… but sincerity does not win wars. Control does."
Rudra looked down at his hand again.
So that was how the Hero Warrior lived — in armor, in light, in faith. The kind of man who would look at Rudra and call him evil. The kind of man who would give his life to protect a crumbling order.
But Rudra didn't want their world broken.
He wanted it rebuilt.
Only he knew that some things must burn before they can be born again.
Back on Earth, his phone buzzed.
It was Aanya.
> "Physics test next week. You're not skipping class again, are you?"
He smiled faintly.
A world was crumbling. Cities were screaming. An avatar was tearing through history.
And his crush just wanted help with rotational mechanics.
He typed back:
> "Wouldn't miss it. Just a little… busy with something."
—
Later that night, Rudra returned to the Zix Core's status screen.
> [Realm 2 – Lich Avatar Active]
[Sync Level: 48%]
[Side Effect Discovered: Chaos-Driven Gain Multiplier. Cities under duress = Point Rate ↑]
[Next Avatar Unlock Cost: 4000 points]
Rudra stared at that number.
He wasn't far now.
And the more the realm collapsed, the faster he'd reach it.
But something pulled at his mind — not guilt, not doubt — just the sense that the Hero, the man in golden armor, would not sit idle for long.
"Come then," Rudra whispered, fingers brushing the pulse on his chest. "Come save them."
Because when the Hero fights the Undead King…
Only the true ruler will survive.