Genesis Maker: The Indian Marvel (Rewrite)

________________________________________________________________________________

- Rajvanshi Estate, Calcutta -

- March 8, 1936 -

The study was quiet after Raghav left. Aryan stood by the window, looking out at the sprawling estate, but his mind was elsewhere. The old man's words lingered, cutting deeper than he had expected.

Power was dangerous. He knew that. He had always known that.

But knowing wasn't the same as understanding.

Tonight, he had killed more people than he could count. The British officers, the loyalist police, the soldiers who had raised their weapons against him—all of them had fallen. True, none of them were innocent. They had crushed his people under their boots, stripped them of dignity, and ruled with cruelty. But had he thought, even for a moment, about anything beyond their destruction?

Had he even considered another way?

His first life had been filled with regrets. He had vowed never to repeat those mistakes, never to disappoint those who believed in him. In this life, he had another chance—to protect, to build, to change things for the better. And yet, in the chaos of battle, he had let power dictate his actions.

Aryan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The system had made him strong, had given him abilities beyond imagination. And without realizing it, he had started relying on it for everything. If he wasn't careful, he wouldn't just rewrite history—he would lose himself in the process.

He clenched his fists. That wasn't going to happen.

Independence had to come, but not through blind destruction. Yes, the British had to be driven out. Yes, the traitors needed to be dealt with. But there were smarter ways to do it. If he kept moving like this, tearing through enemies without a structured plan, the British would simply regroup, reinforce, and retaliate. His victories would be momentary.

He needed a foundation. A force strong enough to not just fight but to ensure victory.

An organization.

Not just a ragtag group of rebels, but a force built on power, discipline, and strategy. He knew the real nature of this world and there were already others like him—people with gifts, people who could fight. If they had the right training, the right resources, they could do what no army could.

Shakti. His fiancé had always been strong, but she needed more. He would enhance her, push her beyond her limits.

Karna. His best friend and a fighter with raw potential, someone who could be more. He would make sure of it.

And then, others. The gifted ones hidden in the shadows, those who had yet to realize what they could become.

The plan was forming in his mind when a soft chime echoed.

| Ding |

The system's voice followed.

| Achievement Unlocked: Superhero Moniker |

| You have made a lasting mark on the people. Hope for some, fear for others. You have been given a name. Your legend begins |

| Reward: +100 MP |

Aryan's lips curled into a small smile. His current MP was now 340.

It was a reminder. A reminder that his actions mattered, that he wasn't just fighting for himself but for something greater. This wasn't about power for the sake of it. This was about using it right.

He had been rushing. That would change.

He turned from the window, his mind clear.

--------

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. The usual warmth at the table remained, but there was an unspoken tension in the air. His father, Surya Rajvanshi, sat at the head of the table, his brows furrowed in thought. His mother, Anjali, kept glancing at him and then at his father, as if expecting him to say something.

They weren't angry. If anything, there was pride in their eyes—pride that someone had finally struck a blow so fierce that the British were forced to take notice. But worry lingered too. The existence of this new, powerful freedom fighter, a masked figure who wielded abilities beyond human comprehension, had set the entire regio of Bengal ablaze with whispers, which will soon expand to the whole country too. The British wouldn't ignore this. They would retaliate. And that retaliation wouldn't just be against the underground fighters but against the entire movement, including the Bharat Swatantrata Sangathan (BSS) and Congress.

They had fought politically, pushing for change through strategy, through diplomacy, through carefully crafted speeches and alliances. But now, with the fire Maheshvara had ignited, they would have to match the aggression, to push forward with more force. Change was coming faster than expected, and they had to be ready for it.

And yet, they had no idea that Maheshvara was their own son.

Aryan wanted to tell them. He wanted them to know that it was him out there, carving a path forward, ensuring that their dream of a free India became reality. But at the same time, a part of him hesitated. Would it change anything? They would still be proud. They would still worry. But maybe, just maybe, it was better for now if they didn't know.

He put his thoughts aside as he finished his meal.

After dinner, he brought up the subject again.

"I want to join the freedom struggle. With the BSS." His voice was steady.

His father sighed, looking at him with tired but kind eyes. "You are too young, Aryan."

"Young? I—"

"At least wait till your sixteenth birthday," his mother interjected gently. "Just a few more months."

He stared at them, wanting to argue, but something in their expressions stopped him. This wasn't rejection. This wasn't them denying him outright like before. They were reconsidering.

A few months.

He could wait that long.

"Fine," he finally said.

His father gave a small smile, as if he had expected Aryan to push harder. "Good."

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Aryan caught Raghav watching him from the side. There was a rare look of satisfaction on his face. He didn't say a word, but Aryan understood. The old man had wanted him to slow down, to think, and Aryan had done exactly that.

Brute force alone wouldn't win this war.

Once dinner ended, Aryan excused himself and returned to his room.

Sitting on the bed, he leaned back, exhaling. His mind was clearer than it had been in days. He had a plan, a goal, and a direction. Now, he needed to prepare for it.

"System, create a combined elixir for balanced enhancement—physique, mind, energy capabilities, and, if possible, Meta-Gene awakening for those with the affinity."

The system responded almost instantly.

"A single vial of this elixir will cost 150 MP."

Aryan didn't hesitate. "Make two vials."

A notification appeared.

|-300 MP consumed. 2 vials of [Harmonic Awakening Elixir] created.|

Two small glass vials materialized on his bedside table, filled with a shimmering golden liquid.

He picked one up, watching as the liquid swirled inside, almost alive with energy. This was it. The key to creating true warriors.

Tomorrow, he would begin working on this plan. As for now he had to again dive the dungeon for collecting some MPs for what he deemed necessary for the plan.

----------

That night, after finalizing his plans, Aryan once again ventured into the dungeon. He didn't go too deep this time—just enough to fight some beasts, gather some materials, and, most importantly, earn more Meta Points. Every MP mattered now. He needed them for what was coming next.

The fights were quick and efficient. He avoided unnecessary risks, focusing on precise kills. By the time he returned, the moon was high, and exhaustion crept in.

| 140 MP gained. |

| Current MP: 200 |

Satisfied, he stored his loot, changed out of his battle-worn clothes, and collapsed onto his bed. Sleep came fast.

----------

- March 9, 1936 -

Morning arrived with the soft golden light slipping through his window. Aryan stretched, his body still carrying the slight ache of last night's battles, but it was a good kind of ache—the kind that reminded him he was growing stronger.

After a quick wash and a light breakfast, he left the estate, heading toward Karna's home.

Karna's house wasn't far, a simple yet well-kept place that reflected the disciplined nature of the family. As Aryan approached, he heard the cheerful voices of children.

A pair of twins—a boy and a girl, no older than seven—ran up to him the moment he stepped through the gate.

"Bhaiya, Karna bhaiya is inside!" the boy, Keshav, announced excitedly.

The girl, Kavya, tugged at Aryan's sleeve. "You came early today!"

Aryan smiled, ruffling their hair. "Had to see your brother."

Karna's mother, Radha Sharma, a kind woman with warm eyes, stepped out, wiping her hands on her saree. "Aryan beta, come inside! It's been a while."

Aryan greeted her respectfully, exchanging pleasantries with Karna's father, Rajendra Sharma as well. The family had always treated him like one of their own, something he deeply appreciated.

"Karna!" his mother called inside. "Aryan is here."

A moment later, Karna stepped out, dressed in his usual simple kurta but with a questioning look. He sensed this wasn't just a casual visit.

After some more warm conversation with the family, Aryan gave Karna a subtle nod. Karna understood.

As they stepped outside, Karna finally spoke. "What's going on?"

Aryan glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "Something serious. Let's walk."

Karna nodded, his expression sharpening. Whatever this was, it wasn't ordinary.

Together, they made their way down the quiet path, away from listening ears.

________________________________________

________________________________________

Thanks for reading 🙏 🙏.

If you are liking this story so far please support this novel through the power stones and let me know your thoughts in the comments and please review the book with ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ if you deem it worthwhile.