Saved?

"Aarohi!!…?"

My voice cracks as the word leaves me, swallowed by the suffocating silence of the room. My breathing is shallow, uneven, as though my lungs are struggling to keep pace with the storm raging inside me.

What the hell just happened?

The images surge forward, unbidden and merciless. I see it all again—the ship, the crimson-soaked deck, the shattered bodies of my comrades lying like discarded fragments of some grotesque puzzle. The images of Lieutenant Benjamin turning into......... I see Aarohi, her pale face contorted in pain, her body crumpling to the ground, the gaping hole in her stomach too vivid to forget.

"No," I mutter, shaking my head in a desperate attempt to block out the memories. My fingers claw at my scalp, my nails digging into the skin as if I can tear the images out of my mind. "No, no, no. It can’t be true. It’s impossible."

I press my hands against my temples, the pressure building in my skull like it’s about to crack open. My breath hitches, and I feel my chest tighten.

"This is a dream," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the frantic pounding of my heart. "It has to be a dream."

But even as I say it, I know it’s not. The pain coursing through my body is too real, too visceral.

I close my eyes, but instead of comfort, the memory shifts, dragging me deeper into the nightmare. Aarohi’s lifeless body crumples before me, her blood pooling around her like a grotesque halo.

“No!” I had screamed, charging at the monster—at him.

Raktraka’s face was twisted with dark amusement as I lunged. I remember the fury coursing through my veins, the sheer desperation to do something, anything, to stop him. My hands trembled as I grabbed my rifle, unloading shot after shot into him. The bullets tore through the air, each one laced with every ounce of hatred I could muster.

But it was useless.

Raktraka didn’t flinch. The bullets didn’t even graze his skin. They disintegrated before reaching him, melting into nothing against some invisible barrier. He stood there, smiling like a predator toying with its prey, as if my defiance was nothing more than a fleeting entertainment.

"Is that all you’ve got, Major?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

I had abandoned the rifle, rushing him with a combat knife. I aimed for his neck, his heart—anywhere that might do damage. But he was too fast, his movements effortless as he dodged every strike. My attacks were clumsy in comparison, driven by rage and grief rather than strategy.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

And then, in a blur of motion, he struck back.

The blow was swift, a single, brutal impact that sent me reeling. I felt a sharp, excruciating pain rip through my side as his hand connected with my torso. It wasn’t just a punch—it was as though my body was being crushed under unimaginable pressure. I staggered, gasping for air, and when I looked down, I saw blood soaking my uniform, spreading from a deep wound along my right side.

"You're boring me," Raktraka said, his voice devoid of interest now. "I thought you’d put up more of a fight."

I remember the feeling of my body failing me, the cold spreading through my limbs as my vision blurred. I tried to stand, to fight back, but my legs gave out beneath me. My right side was numb, useless.

The last thing I remember is that monster's laughter echoing in my ears as I fell backward. The ship’s deck disappeared beneath me, and then there was only the icy embrace of the ocean.

The water swallowed me whole, its freezing cold biting into my skin like a thousand needles. I couldn’t breathe. My arms flailed weakly, but I was too far gone, too broken to fight against the pull of the current. The faces of my wife,my daughter,my friends flashing before my eyes.Darkness closed in around me, I was supposed to die there.

The memory fades, and I’m back in the dimly lit room, my body trembling as the images burn themselves into my mind. My breath is ragged, my chest rising and falling as though I’ve just resurfaced from the depths of the ocean.

I clutch my head, the weight of it all pressing down on me. "It can’t be true," I whisper, my voice cracking. "No way it’s true. Impossible."

The door creaks open, and a deep, gravelly voice pulls me from the spiral. "You’re finally up."

I force my head up, my vision swimming as I focus on the figure stepping into the room. He’s older, with weathered skin and a frame that’s still muscular despite his age. His eyes hold a strange mixture of calmness and intensity, like he’s seen more than I can imagine.

"Who are you?!" I manage to shout through the pain, my voice hoarse and trembling. "What are you doing here? Where am I? And what the hell happened to my comrades?!"

The man raises his hands in a gesture of peace. "Calm down, young man," he says evenly. "You’re in no condition to be shouting, let alone picking a fight."

Ignoring his words, I grit my teeth and push myself off the ground, my entire body trembling with the effort. Each movement sends fresh waves of pain rippling through me, but I don’t care. "Answer me!" I snap, glaring at him with all the strength I can muster.

He sighs, stepping forward to steady me. His grip is firm but not harsh, and he guides me back onto the bed. "Listen carefully," he begins, his tone calm but resolute. "I found you washed up on the shore, bleeding and half-dead. I brought you here, dressed your wounds, and kept you breathing. That’s all I’ve done."

"You’re lying," I hiss, my voice filled with venom.

"I’m not," he replies, his expression unchanging. "I can’t tell you everything about who I am—let’s just say my circumstances make that impossible. But I can tell you this: you’re here because there’s more to come. And as for your comrades…" He pauses, his eyes darkening. "You already know what happened to them."

The weight of his words strikes like a blow to the chest. My vision blurs, and the memories I’ve been trying so hard to suppress come rushing back with brutal clarity.

"You said you found me on the shore," I manage to say after a moment, my voice trembling. "Does that mean… I’m in Antarctica? Inside the veil?"

The man shakes his head. "Antarctica? No. You’re in the Kochi-mz06 region of Bharat’s coast."

"Bharat?!" I repeat, disbelief lacing my words. "You’re joking. You must be joking!"

"

No," he says simply.

"You can’t be serious!" I shout, pushing myself upright despite the pain. "I was standing on my ship—right in front of the continent! How the hell can I be here, thousands of miles away from Antarctica?!"

I glare at him, my hands trembling with rage. "You really can’t be trusted."

"If we’re in Bharat," I growl, "then why do you act like you know what happened to me and my comrades? How do you know all this?"

For the first time, his composure slips. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, guilt, maybe both.

"You’re lying to me," I growl, my fists clenching. Before I can think better of it, I lunge forward, grabbing him by the collar. "Tell me, you old bastard!"

His eyes meet mine, unflinching. "You’re such a troublesome boy," he mutters, almost to himself.

Before I can react, he flicks his fingers against my forehead—a gesture so small and effortless it seems absurd.

And then, everything goe.......