The ground was scorched with purple flames, burning fiercely without a wisp of smoke. The ancient hall, its walls carved with lost secrets, crumbled into ruin. Pillars that stood for ages shattered, turning to ash and dust. A man in a white shirt, black pants, and dark sunglasses stood amid the wreckage, his long black hair swaying in the hot air.
"Tch, it seems we were late," he said, his voice sharp with irritation. He clenched his fist, and the air quivered, as if the world held its breath. The purple flames vanished, leaving only eerie silence.
"Tweet?" chirped a small purple sparrow on his shoulder, its white-flame eyes glowing with unease. The man patted its head with a finger. "There's nothing we can do now. Whoever gets pulled into this mess better be ready."
"Tweet!" it chirped, urgent.
"Yeah, yeah, we're goin'—" A blinding flash tore the air outside, space splitting open, and something crashed to the ground. "Today it's one thing after another," the man sighed, striding toward it. His senses, unnaturally sharp, felt a human—a boy.
A dumb looking black haired kid without an ounce of mana or aura. He was in a casual sleepwear , black hair and gray crocs.
He squatted down and nudged the kid with his boot. "Who are you supposed to be?" he asked, calm as if this was routine. "Tweet, tweet!" The sparrow pecked his head. "Fine, he's out cold. Let's wake him," the man muttered, kneeling to press his hands to the boy's temple, curiosity mixing with a growing sense of crisis.
In a dim dorm in Germany, Arhaan sat scrolling through Instagram. "They're living it up, huh," he thought, eyeing his old schoolmates' posts—concerts, couple trends. Grinding for his Master's degree, he envied their freedom. From an average family, he scraped by with scholarships, selling Popomon Go shiny legendaries, and proofreading novels. "That gorilla sister of mine got a sweet job, heh," he smirked, setting his phone down to freshen up. As he reached the bathroom, a piercing screech and blinding flash hit. "AHH!" he screamed, pain searing through him, ears ringing, body collapsing. Darkness took him.
Arhaan woke, yawning. "What a weird dream," he mumbled, reaching for his phone but feeling grass. "Why am I—WHAT THE!WHY AM I TOUCHING GRASS! WHA!" The man's face loomed close. "Hey, who are you supposed to be?" he asked, bored.
"NO, YOU TELL ME! WHY AM I ON THE GROUND, AND WHO ARE YOU?" Arhaan yelled, scrambling back. "DON'T COME CLOSER, I'M NOT INTERESTED IN MEN!" A vein throbbed on the man's forehead. "What? This bastard! I'm as straight as a line pointing up!" He stepped forward, fist raised. "Not only did I not get my thanks for healing you , i am being accused of this disgusting shit huh. Kids these days have no manners .Looks like our guest needs some treatment." said the man while polishing his fist
"Sto—Ukh!" Arhaan blacked out from a quick hit.
Fifteen minutes later, Arhaan stood, cheek swollen, arms raised. "Raise your hands properly," the man ordered. "Yes, sir!" Arhaan snapped, thinking, Just wait, I'll get you back. "You thought something rude, didn't you?" the man growled. "No, sir, absolutely not!" Arhaan lied, cursing his sharp senses. "Huh, fine. Tell me your name."
Arhaan glared. "Arhaan… my name is Arhaan."