CHAPTER 15: NEW ALLIES, NEW PROBLEMS
The scaffolding wrapped around the massive bronze statue like a second skin, metal beams and wooden planks crisscrossing over the monument’s surface as workers made their final adjustments. The sound of welding torches sparked through the cool evening air, the dull clang of hammers against steel echoing across the square.
Ajit watched from the rooftops, perched on the ledge of a half-rebuilt structure, his hoodie pulled up, his eyes reflecting the golden glow of the floodlights below. The statue was nearly finished now—a towering tribute to Babruvāhan, Manipur’s warrior-king, carved in metal and fire.
He should have felt something.
Pride, maybe.
Relief.
Something.
But instead, as he stared at the monument’s unyielding bronze face, its sharp, unwavering eyes fixed on the horizon, its sword raised in eternal defiance, all he felt was…
Distance.
The warrior-king stood tall, his body frozen in a perfect stance, his armor gleaming, untouched by battle, untouched by failure. A hero cast in metal, unbreakable, untouched by doubt.
Ajit exhaled slowly, leaning forward, his arms resting against his knees.
Was that what a hero was supposed to look like?
Unshaken? Unchanging? Untouchable?
The city below bustled with quiet movement. Volunteers were setting up food stalls near the square, emergency workers still tending to the wounded, police officers moving between checkpoints to keep things stable. There was no ceremony today, no speeches or grand announcements—just work.
People rebuilding.
Moving forward.
Not waiting for a savior.
Not waiting for him.
His fingers curled slightly, feeling the fabric of his gloves press against his palms.
It should have been reassuring.
So why did it feel like the ground was shifting beneath him?
The radio buzzed in his ear.
“I know you’re there, Ajit.”
Ajit didn’t move.
Rajesh’s voice carried through the earpiece, casual but expectant, layered beneath the faint hum of background noise—keyboard clicks, police scanners, the soft static of a live feed somewhere in the city.
“Watching the statue again?” Rajesh asked.
Ajit glanced at the radio unit clipped inside his jacket.
“Just keeping an eye on things.”
“You mean brooding.”
Ajit sighed. “Did you need something?”
“No, I just enjoy annoying you.” A beat. Then, more seriously, “There’s been chatter about a new player in town. A high-tech thief hitting supply convoys on the outskirts of the city. Thought you’d want to know.”
Ajit frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Convoys?”
“Yeah. Relief shipments. Medical supplies, construction equipment, food stock.” Rajesh hesitated. “Not the usual smash-and-grab, either. Whoever it is, they’re fast. Efficient. In and out before security even knows what hit them.”
Ajit’s gaze flickered to the streets below.
“And no one’s seen them?”
“Not clearly. Just a codename floating around.” A pause. “Sapphire Claw.”
Ajit straightened slightly.
That was new.
Not some leftover gang from Ravana’s collapse, not some street-level thug looking to carve out territory. This was different.
“Thought you might want to check it out,” Rajesh added.
Ajit exhaled.
“Send me the locations.”
“Already did.”
There was a smirk in Rajesh’s voice.
“Try not to break anything expensive.”
The radio clicked off.
Ajit looked at the statue one last time, its bronze eyes fixed on something distant, something certain.
Then he turned.
And leapt into the night.
The warehouse stood on the outskirts of the city, where the scars of war still stretched across the land—burned roads, collapsed overpasses, skeletal remains of factories long abandoned. The relief convoy had set up a temporary base here, storing crates of food, medical supplies, and building materials, all waiting to be redistributed across Imphal.
It should have been safe.
It wasn’t.
From his vantage point on a rooftop, Ajit watched the shadows move.
There were at least six guards patrolling the perimeter, all in standard security gear—bulletproof vests, sidearms, earpieces chirping softly as they checked in. A single floodlight illuminated the main gate, casting long beams over the supply trucks parked inside.
Everything looked normal.
But Ajit’s senses whispered otherwise.
Something was here.
Something fast.
His eyes flickered to infrared, scanning the darkness for heat signatures. Nothing. He switched to motion tracking—still nothing.
Whoever they were, they were good.
Then—
A flicker.
Ajit barely had time to react before one of the guards vanished.
It happened too fast.
One second, the man was there—rifle slung over his shoulder, boots crunching against gravel.
The next—
Gone.
No struggle. No sound. Just… gone.
Ajit tensed, golden tendrils shifting beneath his skin. His senses sharpened, stretching outward, searching for—
Another flicker.
Another guard disappeared.
Still no sound.
Still no body.
Ajit’s pulse steadied. His body tensed. This wasn’t a normal attack.
This was a ghost.
And then—
A voice.
“Nice of you to show up, Naga Man.”
Ajit spun.
She was right behind him.
THE THIEF IN THE DARK.
She crouched on the ledge, perched like a jungle cat, one knee bent, one hand resting lazily on her thigh. Her suit—sleek, black, lined with deep sapphire circuitry—seemed to absorb the dim light around her, shifting like liquid metal. A mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible—sharp, electric blue, glowing faintly in the dark.
Ajit’s muscles coiled, ready to strike.
“You move fast,” he said.
She tilted her head.
“You don’t.”
His tendrils lashed forward—but she was already gone.
One moment she was there, the next—a blur of motion, twisting through the air with impossible speed.
Ajit turned just in time to see her land on a support beam, effortlessly balanced, her fingers tapping against the metal.
“Tech?” Ajit guessed, eyes scanning her suit.
She gave a slow, almost playful nod.
“You could say that.”
Ajit crouched, his golden aura flickering. “You stealing relief supplies now?”
She shrugged. “People need them. Just… not the people you expected.”
Ajit narrowed his eyes. “So that’s the game? Play the hero while you rob the city?”
A smirk. “I don’t play. I win.”
She moved again—this time faster than before.
Ajit barely saw it coming.
Her hand flicked out—something silver and razor-thin slicing through the air—and suddenly, Ajit’s left wrist was bound.
A wire. Tight. Strong. Pulsing with energy.
A trap.
Before he could react, she yanked.
Ajit’s balance shifted—his body pulled forward against his own momentum.
For the first time in a long time—
He was falling.
Ajit twisted midair.
The wire burned against his wrist, crackling with some kind of electromagnetic current, but he ignored the sting. Years of instinct kicked in—his body contorted, his tendrils snapping outward, wrapping around the steel beam above.
He stopped falling.
For a brief second, he hung upside-down, suspended in midair, golden whips of energy anchoring him like a serpent coiled around its prey. Below, the warehouse stretched in every direction—darkness, scattered cargo, the faint glow of security drones drifting through the aisles.
Above him, Sapphire Claw crouched on her perch, watching.
Waiting.
Ajit’s muscles tensed. He flexed his fingers, and in an instant, the golden tendrils coiled tighter, pulling him back upward like a slingshot.
He shot toward her.
Fast.
Direct.
His fist swung—but she was already gone.
Again.
A blur of sapphire and black, her form slipping through his attack like smoke through fingers.
Ajit’s feet barely hit the steel beam before she struck back.
A blade—razor-thin, curved like a claw, glowing blue along the edges—sliced toward his ribs.
Ajit barely twisted in time, feeling the cold energy skim past his skin, burning through the fabric of his hoodie.
She was fast.
Not just fast—anticipating.
The wire around his wrist snapped loose as she spun, landing several feet away, her smirk hidden behind her mask.
“Not bad,” she mused.
Ajit exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
“You practice that speech in the mirror?”
A chuckle. “You’re funny.”
Ajit’s eyes flickered. “You’re annoying.”
She shrugged, adjusting her stance.
“Annoying people tend to live longer.”
Then—she moved.
Ajit braced for another direct strike.
Instead, she dropped.
Straight off the ledge.
Ajit’s instincts screamed, but before he could react, his feet were yanked from beneath him.
The wire—she had left it coiled around his ankle.
And she had just pulled.
The world flipped.
Ajit slammed onto his back, the impact shaking the steel beneath him.
By the time he rolled to recover—she was gone.
The sound of engines roared from below.
Ajit’s head snapped toward the warehouse floor.
A cargo truck.
Already moving.
The back doors swung open just long enough for him to catch a glimpse—pallets of stolen medical supplies, crates of rations.
Sapphire Claw stood on top of the vehicle, arms crossed, watching him from the speeding roof.
She raised two fingers to her temple—a mock salute.
And then the doors slammed shut.
The truck tore through the fence, tires screeching against the cracked pavement.
Ajit growled.
Of course, she was getting away.
Of course, she was making a show of it.
His tendrils snapped outward, gripping the edge of the warehouse roof.
The moment he landed, he ran.
THE NEXT MORNING.
Ajit’s head hit the desk.
Hard.
His eyes stung from lack of sleep, his limbs felt like lead, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights above him drilled straight into his skull.
Someone cleared their throat.
Ajit forced his eyes open.
Rajesh.
Sitting beside him.
Holding out a coffee.
“You look like hell,” Rajesh muttered.
Ajit groaned. “Feel worse.”
“Chased a girl all night?”
Ajit grunted.
Rajesh’s eyes widened. “Wait—seriously?”
Ajit grabbed the coffee.
Drank half of it in one go.
Rajesh leaned in.
“…Was she hot?”
Ajit slammed the coffee cup down.
“Shut up, Rajesh.”
The professor’s voice droned on at the front of the lecture hall.
Ajit barely heard it.
His mind was still in the warehouse.
Still chasing.
Still failing.
Sapphire Claw had outmaneuvered him, and now she had an entire truck of stolen relief supplies.
She wasn’t just a thief.
She was planning something.
And Ajit needed to figure out what—before it was too late.
His fingers curled.
Golden light flickered beneath his skin.
He needed to move.
He needed to hunt.
The bell rang.
And Ajit was already gone.
The sky stretched wide and open above them, soft streaks of amber melting into deep violet as the last traces of the sun slipped behind the hills. The streets below were alive—vendors lighting their stalls, voices rising in bursts of conversation, the scent of sizzling spices mixing with the crisp evening air.
Ajit barely noticed any of it.
His mind was elsewhere—warehouse schematics, escape routes, Sapphire Claw’s speed, the stolen medical supplies. His fingers twitched unconsciously at his sides, thoughts moving faster than his body. If he cut through the northern district, he could—
A hand grabbed his wrist.
Ajit blinked.
Padmini.
Her grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t forceful, just there, grounding him.
She stood beside him, eyes narrowed, scanning his face like she was reading every thought he hadn’t spoken.
“You’re doing it again,” she murmured.
Ajit exhaled slowly.
“Doing what?”
Padmini raised an eyebrow.
“Calculating your next fight while pretending to be a person.”
Ajit glanced away. “Not true.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around his wrist.
“You haven’t blinked in thirty seconds.”
Ajit opened his mouth. Stopped.
Blinked.
Padmini sighed, releasing him.
“Come on,” she said, stepping forward. “You need to eat.”
“I don’t—”
She turned, walking ahead. Not waiting for permission.
Ajit sighed.
And followed.
The stall was small, tucked between two larger shops, its menu handwritten on old cardboard, edges curling from years of exposure. The man behind the counter had a gray beard, deep smile lines, and a weathered apron covered in years of oil stains.
Padmini ordered without hesitation.
Ajit barely registered it until the old man handed him a steaming plate of puri and aloo sabzi.
He frowned at it.
Padmini didn’t.
She dug in immediately, ripping apart the bread, dipping it into the thick, spiced potatoes, eating like she hadn’t had a meal in days.
Ajit hesitated.
Then, reluctantly, he took a bite.
The flavors hit instantly—warm, rich, layered with turmeric and cumin, the soft crunch of puri giving way to the heat of the sabzi.
His jaw stopped moving for a second.
Then—
His stomach growled.
Loudly.
Padmini smirked.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
They sat on a low stone ledge, the quiet hum of the city filling the spaces between them.
For a while, Ajit just ate.
Didn’t think. Didn’t calculate. Didn’t chase.
Just… existed.
It was strange.
And uncomfortable.
Padmini finished first, dusting crumbs from her hands, then leaned back slightly, stretching her legs out in front of her.
“You gonna tell me what’s eating you?” she asked.
Ajit kept his eyes on his plate.
“Not much.”
“Liar.”
Ajit exhaled.
“Sapphire Claw.”
Padmini made a face. “Dumb name.”
“She’s fast.”
Padmini nudged his knee with hers. “So are you.”
“Not like this.”
Something flickered in Ajit’s expression—just for a second, but Padmini caught it.
A hesitation. A doubt.
She frowned slightly.
“You lost a fight,” she said. Not accusing. Not mocking. Just stating.
Ajit didn’t look at her.
“She got away.”
Padmini tapped a finger against the stone.
“And that bothers you.”
Ajit’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t lose.”
Padmini blinked.
Then, very slowly, she tilted her head.
“Ajit,” she said carefully.
“You lose all the time.”
Ajit’s head snapped toward her, eyes narrowed, but she didn’t back down.
“You failed half your classes last semester.”
“That’s different.”
“You lost rock-paper-scissors to Rajesh three times in a row last week.”
“That was cheating.”
“You tried to make chai once and set the kitchen on fire.”
Ajit glared.
Padmini grinned.
For the first time that night—something shifted.
The tension, the weight, the restless coil of energy beneath his skin—it loosened, just a little.
He sighed, shaking his head.
“You’re insufferable.”
Padmini smiled.
“And you’re back.”
Ajit paused.
He hadn’t realized it until she said it—but the chase, the numbers, the calculations, the obsession… had quieted.
Just for a moment.
Just enough to breathe.
Padmini nudged him again, softer this time.
“You’ll figure it out,” she murmured.
Ajit exhaled.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
But for tonight—
He let himself believe her.
The lights of the City Hall Plaza shone brighter than usual.
Ajit stood on a rooftop, arms folded, watching the scene unfold below. The crowd wasn’t massive—a few hundred at most, gathered near the steps of the rebuilt municipal building. Some were journalists, cameras flashing, microphones extended. Others were citizens, lingering at the edges, their eyes filled with a cautious kind of curiosity.
In the center of it all, the Mayor adjusted the microphone.
She looked tired. Everyone did these days.
She cleared her throat, glancing at the prepared speech in front of her.
“Imphal has seen its worst days. And yet, we stand.”
A murmur passed through the audience.
“This city has always survived—through war, through destruction, through chaos. But survival is not enough. We must rebuild. We must rise.”
More nods. More murmurs of approval.
Ajit exhaled slowly.
He wasn’t sure why he was here.
He had meant to be elsewhere—tracking Sapphire Claw, tracing the stolen supplies, following leads. But something about this moment had pulled him in, some unspoken gravity, something he didn’t want to name.
The Mayor continued.
“We owe our survival to the strength of this city. To the people who refused to let fear win. To those who rebuilt with their own hands. And to the one who fought when no one else could.”
Silence.
Ajit’s fingers curled against his arms.
“For years, Naga Man has been a mystery. A ghost in the night. A rumor. Some feared him. Others doubted him. But after what we’ve seen… after what he’s done…”
The Mayor looked up.
Straight at him.
Ajit froze.
“We call him our protector.”
The crowd erupted into applause.
For the first time—it wasn’t hesitant.
It wasn’t fearful.
It was real.
Ajit swallowed.
He should have felt something.
Pride? Gratitude? Relief?
Instead—
All he felt was the weight of it.
The expectation. The responsibility. The inescapable fact that this wasn’t just a name anymore.
They weren’t calling him a menace.
They weren’t calling him a vigilante.
They were calling him theirs.
A voice crackled in his earpiece.
“You hearing this?”
Ajit exhaled.
“Yeah, Rajesh.”
“They love you now.”
Ajit didn’t answer.
He wasn’t sure if that was true.
Or if it was ever supposed to be.
Rajesh hesitated.
“You okay?”
Ajit glanced down at the sea of faces—people looking up, looking for him, looking for something he wasn’t sure he could give.
He turned away.
“Keep tracking Sapphire Claw.”
“Ajit—”
The radio clicked off.
And Naga Man disappeared into the night.
Rajesh’s apartment was a mess of cables, monitors, and half-empty chai cups. The glow of six different screens flickered against his glasses, lines of code cascading downward in hypnotic sequences as he worked.
Ajit stood behind him, arms crossed, watching as Rajesh’s fingers danced over the keyboard.
“You’ve been at this for hours,” Ajit muttered.
Rajesh didn’t look up.
“Yeah, and you’ve been brooding for hours, so I think we’re even.”
Ajit sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Just tell me what you found.”
Rajesh clicked something. The screen shifted, displaying a heavily encrypted file—lines of text buried under layers of digital security, the kind of thing that didn’t want to be found.
“This,” Rajesh said, tapping the screen. “I pulled it from a classified archive linked to one of Ravana’s old shell companies. It took forever to crack—whoever made this didn’t want it getting out.”
Ajit stepped closer. “And?”
Rajesh hit a key.
The encryption unraveled.
The words NAGAMANI PROJECT—REDACTED FILES flashed across the screen.
Ajit’s breath stilled.
This wasn’t about Sapphire Claw.
This was about him.
Rajesh scrolled further. “Most of the data is fragmented, but from what I can piece together, the Nagamani isn’t just some mystical artifact—it’s connected to something bigger. Something ancient.”
Ajit’s eyes narrowed. “How much bigger?”
Rajesh hesitated.
Then he opened a document.
Ajit’s stomach clenched as he saw the words.
PROJECT NAGAKANTA – COSMIC ENTITY OBSERVATION.
A slow, uneasy silence filled the room.
Ajit’s pulse drummed in his ears.
Cosmic.
That meant not of this world.
Not just some mythological artifact.
Not just an ancient relic.
Something else.
Something alive.
Rajesh scrolled further, his voice quiet now.
“There’s more. There are mentions of… something older than recorded history. Something tied to the Nagas. Something that—”
The screen flickered.
The text scrambled.
Rajesh’s entire system shut down.
The monitors went black.
The apartment plunged into silence.
Ajit’s muscles tensed instantly.
“What the hell?” Rajesh muttered, hammering the keyboard. “No, no, no—someone’s wiping it! Someone—”
The screens flashed red.
A new message appeared.
One sentence.
STOP DIGGING.
Then—
Everything went dark.
Ajit and Rajesh stared at the dead monitors, the words still burning in their minds.
Ajit exhaled slowly, fists tightening.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones looking for answers.”
Rajesh swallowed hard.
And for the first time that night—
Neither of them felt alone in the room.