The world around Ayaan was a blur of white. The sterile scent of the hospital clung to the air, mingling with the dull ache radiating through his body. His face, burned and raw, pulsed with a searing pain that made each breath a struggle. Memories flickered in his mind like broken fragments, sharp and disjointed, refusing to form a clear picture.

One memory stood out—a dark, cavernous space, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air, and a field of bodies, lifeless and strewn across the ground. At the center of it all stood a man, his crimson-stained axe gleaming ominously, his presence radiating malice.

"I may have spared your life today, but rest assured, I will kill you one day," the man’s cold voice echoed relentlessly in Ayaan’s mind, chilling him to his core.

He could recall the terror and the overwhelming sense of loss, but the rest of that day was a haze. Why couldn’t he remember? What had led to that horrifying scene?

On the second day, Ayaan caught a glimpse of his mother, Tanvi, standing outside his hospital room. Their relationship had been strained for over a year, but now, seeing her worried face through the glass, stirred a mix of emotions within him. Alongside her were high-ranking officials, their hushed conversations hinting at the severity of the disaster he had survived.

By the third day, fragments of memory began to resurface. The cave. The scent of blood. The bodies. The man with the crimson axe. But as he tried to piece it all together, an invisible wall blocked his thoughts, leaving him with more questions than answers. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had forgotten the details of that catastrophic day—everything except the sheer horror of what had transpired.

On the fourth day, Ayaan's strength was returning, though his heart felt heavier than ever. It was then that he realized something devastating—Anaya was missing. She had been by his side, hadn’t she? He had felt her presence, even in his unconscious state. But now, there was no sign of her.

He asked his mother, desperate for answers, but her expression only deepened his despair. Tanvi, unaware that Ayaan had married a year ago, was visibly shaken by the revelation. His attempts to explain were met with confusion, and the weight of her disbelief only made his grief sharper. The emptiness in the room mirrored the void in his heart.

And yet, amidst the agony, a single bitter thought plagued his mind. If everything had gone as planned—if there had been no disaster, no bloodshed, no tragedy—today would have been a day of joy.

This should have been his first wedding anniversary.

Instead, here he was, broken and alone, with no idea where his wife was or how to find her.

By the fifth day, Ayaan could finally stand and take a few steps. Though his body was still weak, his mind was slowly sharpening. As he took his first shaky steps down the sterile hospital corridor, his thoughts drifted back to the beginning.

Two years ago, on that day, it all started.

...****************...

...Two Years Ago...

...****************...

The sound of footsteps echoed softly in the hallway, pulling Ayaan from his deep, restless sleep. His eyes opened slowly, the familiar weight of exhaustion still hanging heavy over him. It was the last day of training—everything was supposed to feel sharp, clear—but instead, a lingering unease clung to him.

The dream. The mansion. The crowd. His mother’s voice, urgent and filled with fear, calling out to him, “Let’s go, we have to move now!” Alongside her, his brothers and the others—were there, their faces blurred in his memory. That night, they had all hurried away, leaving the mansion behind. The memory flickered briefly in his mind, but it was already slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Hey, Ayaan, wake up! You don’t want to miss this.”

Ayaan blinked as the voice pierced through his thoughts. It was his colleague, Dev, standing at the doorway, smirking at him.

“Last day, man. You can’t sleep through this.”

Ayaan groaned, pushing himself up with a stretch. The weight of the dream still felt like it was pressing down on him, but there was no time to dwell on it. He forced the thoughts aside. Today wasn’t the day for memories or distractions.

“I’m up,” Ayaan muttered, dragging himself out of bed and pulling on his training gear. Dev’s face broke into a grin as Ayaan rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Everyone’s already waiting. You’ll regret it if you don’t hurry up.”

As he stood there, adjusting his gear, a flash of his mother’s worried expression came to mind again—her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t place. “Let’s go,” she said back then. That sense of urgency had never left him. It felt like something had been lost that day, something important that still lingered in his mind, like a puzzle missing a crucial piece.

But today, there was no room for those thoughts. Today was about pushing forward. The final training exercises. The culmination of everything he’d worked for.

Ayaan and Dev arrived at the training grounds, the sound of their boots crunching on the gravel underfoot. The air was crisp, a fresh breeze cutting through the early morning stillness. The training grounds were vast, designed for various combat exercises, but today, the focus was on sniper training. The others had already gathered, lined up on one side of the range. Ayaan’s instructor, a gruff, experienced sniper named Captain Rathore, stood waiting by a sleek, black sniper positioned on a sturdy platform.

“Listen up,” Captain Rathore barked as the trainees assembled. “This isn’t just about hitting a target. This is about discipline. Patience. And most importantly, accuracy under pressure. Today, you’ll need to prove you’ve got all of it. Everyone will take their turn. And you’d better make it count.”

Ayaan stood quietly, scanning the setup. In front of him, the targets were set up at varying distances. Some were stationary, others moving. The challenge was about more than just shooting; it was about adjusting to the wind, reading the range, and maintaining composure with the pressure of time.

He was next. Stepping up to the platform, Ayaan felt the weight of the sniper settle into his arms. His breathing slowed as he lined up the scope with the target. His heart beat steadily—calm, like it always did when he was focused.

But this time, the weight felt different. The sniper’s grip in his hands seemed heavier, like a tangible reminder of the responsibility that came with the precision of the shot. His thoughts momentarily flickered back to the memory of his mother’s voice, urging them to leave. But he quickly pushed it aside. He couldn’t afford distractions now.

He inhaled deeply, adjusted the scope, and began to calculate the trajectory of the shot. The wind was slight but present, pushing gently to the left. Ayaan adjusted his aim, considering the variables—distance, wind speed, and the slight incline of the ground beneath him.

The moment felt suspended in time. His finger hovered over the trigger, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He steadied his breath, lined up his shot, and squeezed.

Bang.

The shot rang out, echoing across the range. Ayaan watched as the target shifted. He had hit it, dead center.

A sense of accomplishment washed over him, but it was fleeting. He stepped back from the platform, his expression unreadable, as he passed the sniper to the next trainee. But in the back of his mind, the unease lingered, like a shadow that wouldn’t let go. Today wasn’t just another training exercise—it was the day that would mark the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Something bigger, something more dangerous was out there.

He could feel it in his bones.

“My name is Ayaan Ranade.”

It was a simple statement, yet it held so much weight. The name echoed in the quiet of his mind. Ayaan had never been one to flaunt his achievements, but today, he couldn’t deny the significance of the moment. This was who he was now—Ayaan Ranade, a name that had been molded and sharpened over years of hardship, training, and sacrifice.

Ayaan wasn’t just a soldier; he was a sniper. A title earned through relentless dedication, not through luck or chance. His skills with a sniper rifle were unrivaled. From the moment he had picked up his first rifle, he knew it wasn’t just about shooting targets—it was about mastering the art of patience, precision, and unseen strength. Every sniper shot was a puzzle, one that required the perfect alignment of skill, timing, and the environment.

Today, standing before the mirror in his training uniform, he could feel the weight of the future ahead. There would be many more challenges, many more targets, and many more decisions to make. But Ayaan knew one thing: he was ready for whatever came next.

Ayaan adjusted the collar of his uniform, the fabric crisp and ceremonial, as he walked alongside Dev toward the venue. The grandeur of the hall was evident in the polished floors and the distant murmur of voices gathering inside. Dev, his closest friend during training, nudged him with a grin. “Looks like you’re ready to soak up all the glory, Ayaan.” Ayaan chuckled but remained silent, his focus ahead as they approached the entrance.

Just as they stepped inside, a familiar voice pierced through the air, laced with sarcasm. “Look who decided to show up—the sniper prodigy and his loyal sidekick.” It was Rohit, Ayaan’s long-standing rival. He stood near the entrance, arms crossed, his smirk unwavering. “Tell me, Ayaan, how does it feel to have a reputation that’s bigger than your actual skills?” Dev’s jaw tightened, but Ayaan remained calm, offering only a curt glance before walking past.

As Ayaan passed him, Rohit stepped closer, leaning in to whisper into Ayaan’s ear. “I was selected for Project M.” he said, his voice low and smug. Ayaan paused for a moment, his expression unchanging, before continuing forward. Dev shot Rohit an irritated glare, but Ayaan’s calm demeanor remained unbroken, silently resolving to let his actions speak for themselves.

Before Rohit could add more fuel to the fire, the voice of Captain Rathore boomed from the stage, silencing the room instantly. “Ladies and gentlemen, take your seats. The award ceremony is about to begin.” The commanding presence of Rathore left no room for arguments, and even Rohit fell silent, though his gaze lingered on Ayaan with a competitive edge. Ayaan and Dev quickly found their seats, the tension fading as the ceremony began in earnest.

The stage lights illuminated Rathore as he began his speech, his authoritative tone resonating throughout the hall. “Today, we honor those who have demonstrated exceptional dedication, discipline, and skill during their training. You are the future protectors of this nation, and it is a privilege to witness your growth.” His gaze swept over the audience before he continued, “And now, it is my honor to introduce the leader of our nation, someone who has always valued and supported the bravery of individuals like yourselves.

Please welcome the President of the Country to the stage.”