Silent.
Cold.
Free.
Those words weren't a declaration—they were a becoming. They hung in the darkness of Akshay's thoughts like a prophecy half-written. And though the loop remained, something inside him had begun to shed.
The morning reset again.
The same bed. The same ticking of the clock he once tried to fix. The same whispering rain.
But something had changed.
He rose before the knock at the door this time. His mother's voice, as scripted as ever, floated through the wood: "Get ready for school."
He didn't respond.
He stood at the mirror and stared at himself. The boy in the reflection was the same—the bruised cheek fading, the small scar beneath his jaw—but his eyes were starting to see differently.
He didn't brush his hair. He didn't tie his shoelaces.
And yet he arrived at school precisely on time.
The world around him was made of puppets, their strings pulled by fears, habits, expectations. He watched how the teacher flinched slightly before writing a difficult equation, how the class president forced a laugh too often, how Elizabeth's eyes darted toward Aryan when she thought no one saw.
He saw it all.
And for the first time, it didn't hurt—it fascinated him.
---
That day, he tried something new.
He didn't resist the bullies.
He let Aryan shove him. He let his books fall. He stayed down longer than he needed to.
But when he looked up, he was smiling.
Aryan's brows twitched. Confusion, just a flicker.
Akshay filed it away.
---
Loop 54.
He skipped school. Walked the entire perimeter of the city until his legs ached. He mapped the world, not in distance, but in patterns. Who stood where at what time. What conversations repeated. Where the cats slept. When the crows circled.
By nightfall, he was beneath the bridge where the beggars hid from rain. They ignored him at first. Then one asked if he was lost.
He didn't reply.
One of them coughed—again, and again, like something was clawing at his lungs.
Akshay reached out.
Power whispered in his fingers. Green and silver threads wove into his palms, touched the man's chest, and faded.
The coughing stopped.
The man stared at him in awe. "Are you... an angel?"
Akshay shook his head slowly. "No."
Then the world reset.
---
Loop 55.
He returned to the bridge earlier. But the man wasn't there.
Loop 56.
He found the same man choking again. Repeated the healing. Asked his name this time. The man smiled, said, "Sajid."
Loop 57.
Sajid died anyway. Not from illness. He was stabbed in a street fight he never meant to be part of.
Akshay watched it happen from the rooftop.
And said nothing.
---
Hope began to rot inside him—not all at once, but quietly, like food left in the sun.
He still saved people. He still smiled. He still pretended to be that boy—once.
But he knew now.
This world had rules. Twisted, cruel rules.
Those who screamed were silenced. Those who knelt were stepped on. Those who loved... bled.
And so he learned.
To act weak when needed. To pretend when observed. To speak just enough to blend in.
He learned patience—not as a virtue, but as a weapon.
---
Loop 60.
Aryan had begun to sense something.
"You're acting weird lately," he said one morning, eyes narrowing. "What's with the smiles?"
Akshay shrugged. "Guess I'm just happy."
Aryan punched his arm. "Freak."
But he walked away a bit too quickly.
Fear.
A crack in the mask.
Akshay studied it.
---
By Loop 70, his control over energy began to sharpen.
He could feel the flow in others—not just sickness or injury, but intent. He could taste emotions on the air like colors in smoke. Anger was red. Lust was gold. Guilt flickered blue.
Enlightenment wasn't a divine gift. It was cold data. It was noticing what others ignored.
His thoughts became a river—slow, cold, ever-flowing.
He was becoming something else.
Not a hero. Not a monster. Not yet.
---
Loop 77.
He visited Elizabeth. Not to beg. Not to cry.
To watch.
They sat under the school tree—the one where she first kissed him in an older loop.
"What do you want, Akshay?" she asked, annoyed.
"To understand why you chose him."
She scoffed. "Because he wins. That's what matters. He takes. You hesitate."
Akshay nodded slowly. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For the truth."
He stood, hands in his pockets, and walked away.
And this time, he didn't look back.
---
By Loop 90, he could recite every schedule in the school. By Loop 92, he knew how to sabotage the gas lines in the science lab without being caught. By Loop 93, he realized it wouldn't matter. The world would reset anyway.
So instead, he began building theories. Why the loop happened. When it had started. Why it had centered on him.
And whether he could one day escape it.
---
But in Loop 100—something shifted.
A figure appeared.
Not the cat. Not the dragon.
A girl.
Wearing a cloak of dusk-colored feathers. Eyes as black as void. No words. Just a presence.
She watched him at the school gates. Then vanished.
Loop 101—she was there again.
Loop 102—gone.
A pattern? A glitch?
Or a sign?
For the first time in countless cycles, his heart beat faster.
Not with hope. But with... curiosity.
And Akshay smiled—genuinely, faintly.
The loop had taught him many things. But now, the game was changing.
And he would be ready.
Silent.
Cold.
Still learning.
But no longer alone in the dark.