The Tower's first floor was behind them, but the echoes of its terror still clung to the survivors like smoke after a wildfire.
Dev Rajan stood quietly at the edge of the rooftop garden of the System-assigned housing complex, hands tucked into his threadbare jacket. The fabric was frayed, stained by blood—some his, some others'. Around him, holographic panels displayed system updates, training schedules, and reward allocations.
He ignored them.
His eyes were locked on the glowing skyline, but his heart was somewhere else.
Behind him, soft footsteps approached.
"Found you," Meera Sharma said, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.
He didn't turn. "Took you long enough. Thought you might've left."
She crossed her arms. "You know I wouldn't."
Silence.
She stood beside him, hands clasped. Her coat was pristine, designer-stitched and clearly new—a gift from the System's reward tier for UR-ranked participants. Her skin glowed, her long hair fluttered in the breeze, and her eyes—those proud, intelligent eyes—were the only part of her that had ever looked at him without disdain.
But now… even she seemed distant.
"People are talking," she said quietly.
Dev chuckled bitterly. "They've always talked. 'Rajan the Slumdog,' remember?"
"They're saying I'm lowering myself. That this pairing is a mistake."
"Maybe it is."
She stiffened. "Don't say that."
"Why not? Your family wants you to unbind the link. You're UR. I'm just—"
"Stop."
He looked at her now. Really looked.
She was trembling.
---
Two Days Earlier – Post-Clearance Ceremony
In the aftermath of Floor One's chaos, a grand ceremony was held in New Delhi's System Arena. Survivors were celebrated. Rankings were broadcast. Families arrived to greet their awakened heroes.
Meera's family had arrived in sleek black cars, draped in silk and arrogance. Her father, Rajendra Sharma—chairman of a multinational tech conglomerate—stepped onto the podium like he owned it.
And beside him, Dev had stood, awkward and out of place.
"Who is this?" her father had asked, not bothering to hide his contempt.
"My partner," Meera replied simply.
Dev had bowed his head slightly, like he was taught to do when facing someone "above his place."
"I see," her father said, as if spitting acid. "And what exactly do you bring to this union, boy?"
Dev had stayed silent.
Because he didn't know.
---
Back on the rooftop, the silence stretched long.
"I didn't ask for this," Dev finally said. "I never wanted a partner. Never wanted a system. I was happy being invisible."
"Then why did you fight?" Meera asked. "Why did you save me back there when you could've escaped?"
He shrugged. "Because… I saw someone worth fighting for."
She smiled faintly. "You idiot."
He met her gaze. "What do you see when you look at me?"
Her answer came without hesitation.
"I see a man who dragged my unconscious body across the battlefield. Who bled for strangers. Who stood his ground against a monster five times his size, even with broken ribs. I see the only person who treated me like Meera—not some upper-caste goddess."
Dev swallowed hard.
"I see someone better than any Sharma."
---
They sat down on a bench, the garden silent except for the soft hum of energy barriers.
"I've been getting offers," Meera said softly. "Re-pairing requests. From top SSS-rankers."
"I figured," he replied.
"They don't know I already said no."
Dev turned to her, startled.
She looked at him, unwavering. "I didn't clear the first floor to climb over others. I cleared it with you. That means something to me."
"…But your family—"
"Can go to hell," she said with a smirk. "Let them disown me."
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
---
Their bond had been forged in the crucible of the Tower. Not by marriage. Not by class. But by fire, blood, and pain.
"Dev," Meera said, voice gentler now. "You've always talked about how caste kept you locked in chains. But the System didn't care about your background. It saw your strength."
Dev looked down at his callused hands.
"Then why does everyone else still care?"
"Because the world is slow to change," she said. "But that doesn't mean we stop pushing."
He stared at her, expression unreadable.
"I'm not asking you to fight for me," she continued. "I'm asking you to fight with me. As equals."
For the first time since clearing the floor, Dev let out a real laugh.
"Equals, huh?" he said, standing. "Then I want a rematch. Tower arena. No powers. Just fists."
She blinked. "You want to box me?"
"I want to knock some sense into the woman who thinks I'm not worthy of her."
Meera smirked. "You're on, slumdog."
---
Later – Arena Room B-7, Tower Complex
"Three rounds," Meera said, cracking her knuckles.
Dev rolled his shoulders. "Fine. No powers. No weapons. Just truth."
"Truth?"
He nodded. "We hit each other until we're honest."
She laughed. "You're insane."
"Probably."
What followed wasn't a fight—it was therapy. With punches.
Meera landed the first hit—light, but sharp. "That's for doubting yourself."
Dev returned the favor. "That's for not calling me back yesterday."
They exchanged blows like confessions, bruises like apologies.
In the end, they both collapsed, panting on the mat, faces red from effort and emotion.
And Dev, for the first time in his life, didn't feel like the poor kid in the wrong place.
He felt like someone who belonged.
---
System Notification
> [Dev Rajan & Meera Sharma – Rank: UR + UR | Compatibility 77% → 93%]
> [New Skill Unlocked: Vow of Equals – Passive boost to coordination and shared resilience. Emotional sync enhanced.]
> [Public Rating: Mixed. System encourages continued partnership.]
---
As they limped out of the training room, Meera grabbed his hand.
"Let them talk," she said.
He squeezed it gently. "Let them burn."
---
End of Chapter 13