NOVEL NEXT Chapter 5: Chapter 5:Dance of death
The scorching sun of the Thar Desert blazed mercilessly, its rays like molten daggers piercing through the air. Kalyan's skin glistened with sweat, his throat parched, his last drop of water gone. But thirst was the least of his concerns. His mind was razor-focused, his resolve unshakable. He had a mission to complete before his wedding in three days. Failure was not an option. Not for him. Not for her.
He grabbed his comm device, the static crackling as he connected to headquarters.
"Hey, who's this?" a voice barked on the other end.
He grabbed his comm device, the static crackling as he connected to headquarters.
"Hey, who's this?" a voice barked on the other end.
Kalyan's voice was calm, almost chilling. "It's me. Assassination Devil reporting."
A pause, then a gruff but relieved tone. "Oh, Kalyan, my boy! I was worried sick. You're supposed to be my son-in-law in three days. Let's end this bloody tale of ten years once and for all."
Kalyan's jaw tightened. "I'll finish the task before the event. I promise you."
The comm went silent. Kalyan's eyes narrowed as he stared ahead at the fourth line of enemy defense. The air was thick with tension, the silence deafening. But he knew better. Silence was a lie. The enemy was waiting, armed to the teeth, ready to kill
. He cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders, and stepped forward. The third line of defense would fall today. And he wouldn't just destroy it—he'd make it a masterpiece of carnage.
The first soldier never saw him coming. Kalyan moved like a shadow, his body a blur of lethal precision. A single kick to the chest sent the man flying into a wall, his ribs shattering on impact. Before the body hit the ground, Kalyan was already in motion, his fists a whirlwind of destruction.
The others noticed him too late. Kalyan moved like a shadow, his body a blur of lethal precision. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his fist driving into the man's throat with a sickening crunch. The soldier gagged, clutching his shattered windpipe as he collapsed. Kalyan didn't stop. He grabbed the man's rifle, spun it like a baton, and smashed the stock into another guard's temple. The man's skull caved in with a wet crack, and Kalyan was already moving before the body hit the ground.
Alarms blared. Soldiers scrambled, shouting into radios. Kalyan didn't give them time to react. He flipped over a sandbag barricade, landing in a crouch, and grabbed a combat knife from a fallen soldier. The blade gleamed in the sunlight as he hurled it across the room. It embedded itself in the throat of a sniper perched on a catwalk. The man clutched at the knife, gurgling blood, before toppling over the railing.
Bullets tore through the air, but Kalyan was a ghost. He grabbed a steel table and flipped it upright, using it as a shield. Rounds pinged off the surface, sparks flying. With a roar, he hurled the table like a discus, the edge slicing through a soldier's neck before crushing two others beneath its weight. Blood sprayed in an arc, painting the walls crimson.
A soldier lunged at him with a bayonet, but Kalyan sidestepped, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted until the bone snapped with a wet crack. The knife fell, and Kalyan caught it mid-air, driving it into the soldier's jugular. He ripped it sideways, severing arteries, and let the body drop like a sack of meat.
The room erupted into chaos. Soldiers poured in from every direction, guns blazing. Kalyan moved like a whirlwind of death. He grabbed a chair, smashed it over one man's skull, and used the broken legs to impale another through the stomach. The man screamed, clutching at the wooden shards protruding from his gut, but Kalyan silenced him with a brutal kick to the face, shattering his jaw.
A grenade rolled toward him, its pin pulled. Kalyan didn't flinch. He scooped it up, hurled it back, and backflipped behind a barricade as the explosion tore through the room. Shrapnel shredded bodies, and the air filled with the stench of burning flesh.
When the smoke cleared, Kalyan emerged, his body slick with blood—none of it his own. The floor was a gruesome mosaic of corpses and shattered weapons. He stepped over them, his boots crunching on broken bones. He smiled.
"Half a day, already" he muttered. "One more line to go. I won't disappoint her."