Chapter 2 – Rise of the Gangster

Bombay’s streets were a jungle, but Rocky had learned to survive. Every corner had a threat, every alley a challenge. Hunger, theft, and violence were constant companions, but Rocky didn’t just survive—he thrived. He had grown taller, stronger, and sharper. His fists carried the promise of his mother’s wish. Every punch, every fight, every bruise was a step toward the world she had dreamed of for him.

One evening, as the sun sank behind the tall buildings, Rocky found himself in the middle of a turf war. Two gangs, each fighting for dominance, clashed with knives and sticks. Screams echoed through the alleys. Men fell, blood spattered the walls. In the chaos, Rocky stood alone, calm and precise. “Who’s next?” he growled, wiping blood from his lips. Five men lay unconscious around him, and a crowd of onlookers stared in disbelief. Whispers traveled fast: “That boy… he fights like a beast.”

But Rocky wasn’t fighting for fame. He wasn’t fighting for a gang. He was fighting for something far greater—the promise he had made. A week later, Rocky met Shetty, a notorious smuggler who had watched the boy’s fights with interest. “Power isn’t strength,” Shetty said, leaning back in a chair. Smoke from his cigar curled around the dim light. “Power is fear. Make men fear you, and the world will bend.”

Rocky listened quietly. “Fear is not enough. I want respect. I want to be remembered,” he said, his voice cold, but confident. Shetty chuckled. “Ambition like yours is dangerous.” Rocky’s eyes burned. “Then let it kill me. But I will die a legend, not a forgotten shadow.”

Days later, the stranger from the previous chapter returned. He carried a gold coin that gleamed even in the dim streetlight. “Kolar,” he said, “a mine filled with more gold than the world has ever seen. But it’s not just wealth. Whoever controls Kolar… controls kings.”

Rocky’s hand hovered over the coin, feeling its weight, sensing destiny in its shine. His mother’s words echoed in his mind: “The world will bow to you.” “But to enter Kolar,” the stranger continued, “you cannot go as Rocky the gangster. You must enter as a slave. Only then can you survive, only then can you strike.”

Rocky’s jaw tightened. Pride and instinct screamed against it. But the fire in his chest, the promise he had made, burned stronger than his fear. “I’ll go,” he said, his voice steel. “Tell me where to start.”

The stranger nodded, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Then your real journey begins… in the mines, where men are crushed like stones, and only the cunning survives.”

That night, Rocky stood alone on the pier, staring at the distant horizon. The moon reflected off the water, casting a silver path to Kolar—his destiny. He clenched his fists. One step into those mines, and his life as a gangster would end. One step into those mines, and the boy who wanted the world would be tested like never before. He didn’t know whether he would return. But he knew one thing—he would not fail.

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