I still remember the day Arjun knelt in front of us, asking for Gayatri’s hand. Veeru clapped him on the back, Dheeru cracked a rare smile. We thought it was the beginning of peace.

We were wrong.

Now, standing in the ruins of the police camp, I see his badge half-buried in mud, cracked under a boot print. Jaichand’s men left it as a message. Gayatri hasn’t spoken since they brought her back—just rocks, whispering his name.

Our commandant found us in the slums, broken and drunk. 'You were never dismissed,' he said. 'You were deployed.' The truth hits like a blade: we’ve been sleeper agents all along.

He wants us to infiltrate Jaichand’s fortress. Not as killers—but as shadows.

Rasbhari waits at the edge of the forest, a local girl with fire in her eyes. She knows the tunnels, the guards’ rotations, the one weak point in the wall.

But can we do this without becoming monsters ourselves?

The plan is set. The weapons are ready. But one question remains—do we burn it all down… or build something new?