CHAPTER 12

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Song for the chapter:  

Burn it Down - Linkin Park

Saibo - Shor In the City

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His world was shattering around him.

The loud roars ripping through the air seemed like they were ringing right in his skull, hammering it from the inside, a pain so immense that he felt like he might explode. His body ached like he had been stabbed and cut a thousand times over and he knew that he was spilling blood no one could see.

Disbelief and surprise never even had a chance to register.

As he watched the boy, the living, breathing boy, climbing up the stage, his face as perfectly self assured and nonchalantly arrogant as he remembered, all he could feel was a deep, searing, blinding hate.

He was back.

His buddy was back to snatch away everything from Dhruv once again.

He couldn't fathom why the fearful astonishment that he should have felt to see him alive again never came. Perhaps because at the back of his mind, he had always known, Manik Malhotra would never go down so easily. Manik Malhotra would always win.

After all, he knew his buddy the best.

And just like always, Mukti and Alya would literally shower rose petals on their King to welcome him back. Forget that he lied, forget that he abandoned them for two months, forget about Cabir, and forget that he just snatched away their first win of Musicana.

The world could collapse into hell around Manik Malhotra without him batting an eyelid but he would still rule over the ashes with his faithful, devoted minions, it would all still revolve around him.

The gross unfairness that he had seen and experienced since childhood, the unfairness that he had grown up with, pierced him like a rusted, old knife, infesting him with the worms of resentment yet again.

He was faintly aware of the shrill, agonizing shrieks of Alya and Mukti and the horrified gasps of Aryaman and Maddy, but it all melted away in the background of the deafening cheers and the crushing reality that his moment of glory lied crushed somewhere below the boots of Manik Malhotra.

All that remained was the tattered wreck of his dreams.

And the deep, soul corrosive contempt.

The last time he had felt these emotions, the reasons were so petty that he was embarrassed about them now. Back then, he was a jealous little boy foolishly rebelling against the leader.

A lot had changed since then. He had fought on his own, he had built his dreams, his life, his identity, his career, all on his own, only for him to take it all away.

He wasn't going to let it all crumble so easily under his mighty highness, he wasn't going to let him flick it all away like a speck of dirt.

That little boy was gone.

This time, this time, it would be a man to man fight.

His hands clenched into fists as the firecrackers exploded to mark an end, painting a rainbow of vivid, electrifying colours on the canvas of the night sky but all he saw was burning red, the humiliating end of the first battle he had lost.

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