The last thing Chirag and Anush saw were galaxies spiraling inward, collapsing toward a singular, crushing point. While the rest of their classmates succumbed to the pressure and collapsed, the two of them somehow maintained their footing, anchored as they were dragged through the howling void.

  They materialized within a nightmare—a fractured realm where the atmosphere curdled with the discordant wails of children, women, and demons. Ruins of houses and skeletal trees drifted aimlessly through a sky that had long since surrendered its meaning.

  "WTF, bro," Anush whispered, his eyes wide as he surveyed the wreckage of reality.

  "Where... where are we?" Chirag’s voice trembled, the sheer impossibility of the landscape gnawing at his composure.

  Before an answer could form, a localized surge of gravity hit them, heavy and absolute as the event horizon of a black hole. A voice, resonant and ancient, bled from the shadows: "This is the Palace of the Dead."

  In the blink of an eye, the scenery folded. They were standing in a monolithic throne room, pinned under the gazes of three kings whose auras radiated an overwhelming, suffocating intensity.

  "You are not ready," one of the sovereigns stated, his voice a blade of ice.

  "Wait—" Chirag started, but the world dissolved into white noise.

  Chirag’s eyelids fluttered open. For a fleeting second, the warmth of a bed seemed to linger. "Honeypie..." he murmured in his stupor, only to be jolted awake by a rough hand shaking his shoulder.

  The nightmare had ended, but the reality was hardly a comfort. He and his classmates were sprawled across a hard, shimmering floor that pulsed with a rhythmic, golden light. Every student was bound, their limbs restricted by glowing ropes of pure energy. They were held within a cathedral-like hall of impossible proportions, constructed entirely from a translucent, golden substance.

  At the far end of the hall, a King sat flanked by his retinue, their eyes fixed on the captives with predatory curiosity.

  "Who are you?" the King demanded, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "And why are you clad in the same vestments as the Hero?"

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  "Who is the 'Hero'?" Anush grunted, straining fruitlessly against the light-binds. "And why the hell are we tied up?"

  "You rendered our soldiers unconscious and shattered their B-class plate," a court magician interjected, stepping forward. "Such feats are physical impossibilities within the laws of our world."

  Sandhya’s voice broke the stunned silence, shaky and thin. "We don't know anything... we just remember a star, then passing through a... a void."

  The King leaned forward, his brow furrowed as he studied the "Galaxy" logos embroidered on their school uniforms. To him, they were cryptic sigils of an unknown power.

  Suddenly, the massive gates at the rear of the hall swung open with a heavy, metallic groan. Two figures emerged from the light: a tall, muscular man with the build of a tank, and a petite girl trailing just behind him.

  "Rehan!" Anush and Chirag shouted in unison, their disbelief cutting through the tension.

  Rehan looked down at them, his features etched with a weariness that hadn't been there before. "Guys, you know what." he sighed, his voice heavy. "I’ve been here for a year."

  Chirag’s mind, ever the analytical engine, immediately shifted into high gear. A year? We were only gone for seconds. "A singularity," he deduced aloud, his eyes sharpening. ""We must have been caught in a high-gravity anomaly. Time dilation… that’s why he aged while we didn’t."

  The small girl beside Rehan, Mizuki, tilted her head. Her eyes were like polished glass—beautiful, but devoid of warmth. "How do you know of the Singularity?"

  After Rehan briefly explained the origins of the newcomers, the King turned to Mizuki. "Research this phenomenon, Mizuki. Find out how they arrived."

  Mizuki bowed slightly, her expression remaining a mask of cold calm. "I will require assistance," she said, her finger rising to point directly at Chirag. "I need this person to help in the study."

  The King blinked, caught off guard. "Why, Mizuki? You are the finest mind in this kingdom. You should have no need for a commoner."

  Chirag watched her intently. The smartest person, huh? He felt a strange tug of recognition. Something is wrong. She looks empty... hollow. It’s the same coldness I once felt. The side effect of a mind that thinks too much but still used as tool.

  Mizuki didn't flinch under the King's scrutiny. "According to my initial analysis," she stated simply, "that boy is as smart as I am."

  A deafening silence fell over the hall. Even the guards seemed to hold their breath. Class 9 looked at mizuki as if she was joking.

  Sandhya let out a disbelieving laugh. "As smart as Chirag?"

  "I’m in," Chirag said, his expression hardening into one of rare seriousness.

  "What!" the rest of Class 9 shouted in a ragged chorus.

  The shock was earned; back home, Chirag was the untouchable loner, the guy who would rather solve the same multivariable algebraic problem 100 times rather than spending time roaming with girls in today's language quiet genius with commoner look

  Maybe I can help her, Chirag thought, staring into Mizuki’s vacant eyes. It’s now or never.

  To be continued...