The clock blinked 3:42 AM.
Varun's hands moved rapidly over circuits and blueprints, sparks lighting his dark room like fireflies. His face was calm, focused — eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.
On his desk sat something new: a watch.
He had finally done it.
"Lucy," he said, tightening the last screw. "It's ready."
A soft chime echoed as the device activated.
"Hello, Varun," Lucy's voice responded, now speaking directly from the watch.
"From now on," he said, strapping it onto his wrist, "I need you with me everywhere."
Lucy hummed for a second. "Understood. Now, what's next?"
Varun leaned back. "Training. I need to understand what I am."
There was a pause before Lucy answered. "Your power is not normal. If you lose control… people could die. You need to train in a place with no life around."
"Where?"
"The Thar Desert. Barren. Isolated. Perfect."
Varun nodded, already grabbing a small bag. "Then that's where I go."
By sunrise, he stood at the edge of endless golden dunes.
Then, with a blink, he vanished.
His speed tore through the sand, slicing the wind. Miles passed in seconds. The world blurred into a hot, golden streak.
He stopped deep inside the desert, where no signal reached and the sun felt heavy with silence.
This would be his battleground.
Training began.
He didn't start with powers. Just basics — taken to extremes.
Durability: He stood still as massive boulders dropped onto him.
Strength: He lifted rocks the size of trucks.
Grip: He crushed heavy stones with his bare hands.
Speed: He ran.
And when he ran… the desert responded.
The air cracked.
The sand rose.
A sandstorm the size of a mountain towered behind him, spiraling wildly — a storm capable of flattening a city.
Varun stood calmly, watching it.
"No harm," he whispered. "No one's here."
Then—
"Varun," Lucy said, her voice sharp. "There are six humans… ten kilometers ahead."
His eyes widened.
"The storm will reach them in minutes."
"How do I stop it?!"
"Run in the opposite direction. Create a counter-wind," Lucy said.
But in panic, he did the opposite — ran in the same direction.
The storm grew.
Bigger. Louder. Angrier.
Varun cursed under his breath and ran in front of the people. Their faces were frozen with fear.
He looked back.
The storm was nearly upon them.
"Lucy?"
"Now or never."
Varun raised his hands and clapped with his full power.
THUNDERCLAP.
The air detonated. A shockwave ripped through the storm, splitting it like a wall of smoke.
Silence followed.
Then—a second storm began.
But this one wasn't his.
It rose unnaturally fast. Spun in patterns. Controlled.
"Lucy... this isn't mine," Varun said.
"I know. And it's not natural," Lucy responded.
Varun's senses locked in—he felt it. Someone was calling the storm.
"Take them to safety," Lucy ordered.
In a blur, he lifted the six people, carried them miles away to shelter, and returned.
To face whatever was coming.
From within the sand, a figure emerged.
Covered in whirling dust, eyes glowing green. His voice spoke the same alien language as Aevor.
And Varun… understood every word.
"I am Cazren. Aevor sent me. I've come to take your power back."
A massive sand hand lunged forward—Varun flipped back, dodging it narrowly.
He struck with full strength—his fist connected.
But Cazren crumbled into sand and reformed behind him.
Again. Again. Cazren hit Varun, vanished and reappeared.
Varun was fast, but Cazren's attacks were sudden. The cuts built up. Blood hit the sand.
He dropped to one knee.
"Lucy," he gasped, "what do I do?"
"Water. Sand cannot hold form with water."
"But there's no water!"
"And your speed is too damaged to get some," Lucy said.
Then—
Drip.
A single drop hit his cheek.
Rain.
"Lucy?"
"This desert gets one rainfall every 3 years. You got lucky," Lucy said.
Varun looked up. Drops were falling like whispers.
Cazren stumbled.
His form flickered, struggled to hold shape.
"He's weak now!" Lucy said. "Finish it—before the rain stops!"
Varun stood. Every part of his body ached.
But his fist… it was steady.
He charged.
BOOM.
One full-power punch.
Cazren burst into a cloud of broken sand, scattered by the wind.
Then the rain stopped.
Just in time.
Varun stood alone in the quiet desert. The sky cleared.
Lucy's voice broke the silence.
"Aevor… is not alone."
Varun nodded, his expression darkening.
"Then neither am I."
And with the sun rising again behind him, Varun tightened the strap on his watch.
Because war was coming.
And Lucy was now his only ally.
And now he knew one more thing—fighting also made his powers grow.
Later that week, the six people Varun had saved returned to their town. They told everyone what they had seen — the boy who outran the storm, who vanished like lightning.
But no one believed them.
They were dismissed as heat-mad wanderers.
But they knew the truth.
What they didn't know… was that an 18-year-old boy, having red glowing eyes and orange hairs, had overheard their story.
And unlike the others—he believed it.