The Tycoon's Odyssey

The three superhumans immediately shifted into defensive stances, their enhanced bodies coiled like springs, ready to strike. Without hesitation, they launched their attack. One superhuman dashed forward at lightning speed, delivering a thunderous punch to the nearest armored figure. But the suit absorbed the blow effortlessly and emitted a faint hum as if mocking him for the effort.

The armored human retaliated with a swift backhand, sending the superhuman flying across the room and crashing into the wall with a sickening crunch. The second superhuman leaped into the air, aiming a devastating kick at another intruder. But before the attack could land, the armored figure raised an arm and fired a pulse cannon. The energy blast from the cannon struck mid-air, throwing the superhuman to the ground like a rag doll.

The last superhuman, more cautious, circled around, searching for an opening. But the suits were too advanced. A sudden pulse of energy surged through the room, knocking him out before he could even make his move.

"Father, we have to go!" Jagesh shouted, fear lacing his voice as the intruders advanced.

"Never!" Pratap barked, his pride refusing to waver even in the face of overwhelming odds against them.

"Father…Grandfather, stop this madness!" Vishal yelled as he and Jagesh grabbed Pratap, hoisting him over their shoulders. "Brother, we'll cover you!"

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But hardly had they taken a few steps when a low hum filled the air. A blinding electric pulse shot through the room, striking all three in the back.

Jagesh and Vishal screamed as the energy coursed through their bodies, their muscles locking in place. They collapsed to the ground, trembling violently, their grip on Pratap failing as he fell with a heavy thud.

For a moment, the hall turned eerily silent, save for the hum of the intruders' suits. Then, from the direction of the door, the sounds of brutal gunfire erupted once more. Bullets ricocheted off the walls and armor alike as more soldiers entered the fray, their shouts echoing through the grand hall.

"Hold them off!" someone screamed, their voice barely audible over the clash of weapons and cries of pain that created a chaotic symphony of battle. The superhumans struggled to recover, to rejoin the fight, but the intruders were relentless, cutting through their resistance with cold, mechanical precision.

As the sounds of fighting intensified, Pratap lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes helplessly staring at the carnage unfolding before him. For the first time in his life, he felt the suffocating sting of powerlessness, the weight of defeat pressing heavily on his chest. The castle—their stronghold and everything that had been built by the bloody sacrifice of their ancestors was slowly crumbling under his eyes—making him wonder where he had gone wrong.

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Above the battlefield, in the jet soaring its way through the sky…

The private air jet hummed softly as it sliced through the clouds, its sleek, luxurious interior a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding below. Evan lounged in the plush leather seat of the luxury lounge, sipping on a nonalcoholic cocktail. A faint smile tugged his lips as he muttered, "Everything is quite chaotic nowadays."

Leaning back, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. 'Thankfully, everything was taken care of without much hassle. After all, we can't be too lenient.' His thoughts drifted back to the meticulous planning that had brought him to this moment.

Since the election, when the masses had gathered in fervent anticipation, he had been steadily infiltrating every layer of society. His grip had tightened steadily from the area surrounding the gates to the parliament itself. Shopkeepers, restaurant owners, and even street food vendors—one by one, they had been slowly replaced by his agents, all strategically positioned to take over every corner of the city.

Smuggling weapons and suits into the area had been the greatest challenge, but even that had been cleverly masked. "Cosplay," he had joked to Aurora when the first batch of suits was delivered. To an untrained eye, the high-tech gear could easily be mistaken for costumes from a gaming convention.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

But his suits were anything but ordinary. While his own exuded a sharp, almost regal efficiency, his armors of his soldiers carried an intimidating, futuristic design, a subtle nod to gaming culture, yet far more advanced than anyone could imagine.

The suits came in various forms, meticulously tailored for specific tasks and roles. Each was discreetly supervised to avoid raising suspicion and to be hidden in plain sight.

As for the weapons, they too were masterpieces of sophisticated engineering in their design yet they were deliberately made to look simple in appearance, blending seamlessly into everyday environments. His agents, disguised as traffic police, food vendors, and ordinary citizens, had begun guiding the flow of people in and out of strategic zones. Streets were cleared, paths opened, and chaos was kept to a minimum—all under his precise control.

What made his plan even more insidious was how his agents had been recruited. While some were forcibly reprogrammed, the majority were unsuspecting victims of the VR headsets they used for entertainment. Games became gateways, embedding subtle programming into their minds. It was like a silent virus, slowly altering their thoughts and actions, creating a network of sleeper agents ready to be activated at any moment.

A virus that was capable of changing a person's mind at will.

Aurora, who had been observing Evan silently, finally spoke. [While things went as planned, there's a significant risk. If even one faction goes rogue, they could detonate nukes or trigger uncontrollable chaos.]

Evan's smile faded, his eyes narrowing. "That's exactly what I'm greatly concerned about," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. He knew he could stay physically safe in his fortified spaces, but the environmental destruction and fallout from a nuclear strike would be catastrophic.

He shook his head as if to clear the morbid thoughts. "Aurora, keep the Rajputs locked in a secure location. Treat them well—give them proper food, water, and anything else they might need. Keep them alive and comfortable. There's no need to make them suffer unnecessarily."

[Roger that.]

At that moment, the pilot's voice crackled through the intercom. "Sir, we'll be reaching Dilli shortly."

Evan set his glass down, his smile returning. "Excellent. It's time to crush the insects that have been buzzing for far too long."

Rising to his feet, he smoothed his suit and glanced out the window at the sprawling city below, unaware of the storm about to descend.