The sky was overcast, heavy with dark clouds—likely due to the rainy season. The whole atmosphere felt strange, like the mood of a person weighed down by sorrow. Even so, life moved forward. No one could halt the relentless current of time. Or perhaps… someone could?
Such were the thoughts of a seventeen-year-old boy as he gazed out the hospital window. No one could tell what he was thinking, but one thing was clear—he was lost in deep thought.
After a while, he slowly rose from the hospital bed and walked toward the mirror hanging on the wall.
"I still can't believe it... I've been reborn in the world of Swallowed Star."
Staring at his youthful reflection, the boy's mind swirled with disbelief and wonder.
His name in his past life was Vikaas Saah, an Indian military soldier. During a border patrol mission, he had been ambushed by terrorists hiding in the shadows. Though he had taken them all down with fierce determination, he too succumbed to his injuries and died.
Now, in this new life, he was known as Rudra Singh, a young and gifted student with the potential to become a War God. He lived with his mother, Devi, in one of the base cities near Delhi.
From early childhood, Rudra had admired warriors. Becoming one wasn't just a dream—it was a necessity. His father had died under mysterious circumstances, leaving only his mother to care for him. With no stable source of income, life had always been hard. Thankfully, his maternal grandfather had been a military officer, and the family survived on government subsidies and the house granted to them. But Rudra knew it wouldn't be enough—not for the kind of future he wanted to build.
That's why he decided to become a warrior.
A close friend had once told him about the benefits of becoming one—status, resources, and above all, strength. Inspired, Rudra made up his mind.
It was that same friend who recommended him to join the Extreme Martial Dojo. When he applied, the instructors were taken aback—he was only sixteen at the time. Even his mother was shocked.
But Rudra's determination left no room for argument. Seeing his stubborn resolve, the dojo eventually accepted him. Since then, he had thrown himself into training, mastering both martial arts and the ancient discipline of yoga taught by the instructors.
In just one year, through relentless training and unwavering determination, Rudra rose to the rank of an advanced student—just one step away from becoming a Quasi-Warrior. His meteoric rise stunned the dojo instructors. Even the Supervisor took notice, his interest piqued by the boy's rare talent.
But not everyone welcomed Rudra's success.
Jealousy festered in the shadows.
Some students, threatened by his rapid growth, began plotting in secret. They couldn't stand the idea of a newcomer—especially one so young—outshining them. So, they devised a cruel plan to remove him from their path.
The attack came just yesterday.
Rudra had just finished his training and was heading home through a quiet alley near the dojo. That's when they struck—cowards hiding in the dark, faces masked, fists filled with hatred.
They didn't kill him… but they made sure he was close to it.
Beaten to a bloody pulp, Rudra collapsed in the rain-drenched street, every breath a struggle. Pain coursed through every inch of his body. As he began to lose consciousness, something deep inside him snapped.
Something broke…
Then it happened.
A flood of memories surged through his mind—overwhelming, vivid, alien and familiar at the same time. It was as if thousands of needles were piercing into his brain, unravelling hidden truths buried in the depths of his soul.
They were memories of his past life—or more precisely, the complete memories of Vikaas Saah.
As the flood of images and emotions surged through him, Rudra's breathing slowed. He began to understand. These weren't hallucinations. They were real—memories of another existence, of the man he once was.
And from those memories, one truth became unmistakably clear:
This was the world of Swallowed Star.
A strange mix of fear and awe gripped him. Vikaas hadn't expected to die, of course. No one truly does. But like many otakus, he had often fantasized about being reborn in another world. A world filled with adventure, danger, mystery... and power.
He had dreamed of traveling distant lands, witnessing alien cultures, and fighting side by side with warriors against terrifying monsters.
In fact, it was this same desire—the thirst to live the life of a warrior—that had driven him to join the Indian Army in his previous life. Though he had died in the line of duty, he had never regretted that decision.
Now, as he looked around the hospital room—at the plain white walls, the faint scent of antiseptic in the air, and most of all, at his youthful reflection in the mirror—he could no longer deny the truth.
He had been reborn.
"So now the question is… who am I? Rudra Singh? Or Vikaas Saah?"
He asked himself this silently, the weight of the question settling deep within his chest.
But the answer came swiftly, like a quiet whisper of truth echoing in his soul.
He was both.
Not just Rudra Singh—the young student with a bright future in a world filled with monsters and warriors.
And not just Vikaas Saah—the loyal soldier who had lived, fought, and died for his country.
He was the sum of both lives. Two souls, two pasts, merged into one.
The countless memories now etched into his mind—memories of boot camps, gunfire, battlefields, friends lost, and missions survived—stood as undeniable proof.
"I carry the blood of Rudra… but the soul of Vikaas. Together, we will explore this known yet unknown world."
And with that realization, a new resolve began to form—clearer, firmer than ever before.
.
.
.
A kind-looking woman entered the room. She wasn't extraordinarily beautiful by conventional standards, but to Rudra, no beauty in the world could compare to hers.
Because she was his mother.
"Are you really okay, Rudra?" she asked softly, worry etched deep into her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Rudra's heart tightened at the sight. His eyes turned red with emotion and quiet fury. How could they do this to him—those cowards who attacked him in the dark? But worse than his own pain was the sight of his mother suffering, her face twisted with fear for his life.
He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"I'm fine, Ma. Don't worry," he said with a warm smile, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. "It's just some minor injuries. The doctor said I can be discharged in two days."
She looked at him, still uncertain, but nodded slowly.
"Okay… I believe you," she whispered. Then, with a trembling smile, she added, "But don't overwork yourself, Rudra. You don't have to carry everything alone. I'm here—I'll share your burdens."
Her voice cracked, and once again, tears rolled down her cheeks.
Rudra gently pulled her into a hug.
"I won't let anyone make you cry again, Ma. I promise."
"Okay, you rest now. I'm going to work," she said gently, brushing his hair back before turning toward the door.
Rudra watched her leave, her steps slow and tired, the weight of years of struggle visible in her posture.
As the door closed behind her, a fire lit in his heart.
"I will become a warrior—no matter what it takes."
Not for fame.
Not for wealth.
But for her.
So that she would never have to work another day in her life. So that the worry, the pain, and the silent sacrifices she had made for him would all be worth it.
"Soon, Ma… you'll see."
"You didn't raise just a boy."
"You raised a warrior."