After that unique event nothing extraordinary thing which Aryan anticipated had happened but after whole weak something happen everything goes normal Aryan's eyes fluttered open, caught between the last wisps of sleep and the harsh morning light spilling through his thin curtains. The distant hum of the city filtered through his window — the sound of waking life in his small town somewhere in India. It was a Monday, another day of college, lectures, friends, and routines.
His room was as familiar as ever: a modest single bed pushed against the wall, a desk cluttered with textbooks, notebooks, and a collection of anime DVDs stacked haphazardly in the corner. Posters of his favorite series — some faded, some vibrant — adorned the walls. Among them, his all-time favorite: a fiery warrior with blazing eyes, standing against impossible odds. It made Aryan smile every time, reminding him of the stories he lost himself in during tough days.
The gentle buzz of his alarm clock nudged him to sit up. As his hand brushed the worn bedsheet, something else caught his attention. He looked down at his wrist, still half-buried under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
A faint glow flickered under his skin.
Curious and a little unnerved, Aryan tugged back his sleeve.
There it was — a tattoo, but unlike any tattoo he'd ever seen or heard of. It shimmered softly, like liquid light beneath his flesh. The delicate face of a clock — its hands ticking forward endlessly, never pausing.
He blinked. When did this get here? The image was so clear, so real. Yet it had not been there yesterday.
Heart thumping, Aryan flexed his wrist, watching the hands spin slowly, counting time that felt deeper than seconds or minutes.
The Usual Morning
Despite the mystery on his wrist, Aryan forced himself to follow the rhythm of his life. He knew his father would be waiting downstairs for their morning chai — a quiet ritual they shared before parting for the day.
Aryan dressed in his usual college outfit: simple jeans, a soft shirt, and his favorite pair of glasses that always slid down his nose when he got too excited about anything — like explaining a complex anime plot or a new scientific theory.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of spices and freshly brewed tea. His mother hummed softly, preparing breakfast.
"Good morning, Beta," she said, smiling warmly as she poured chai into two cups.
"Morning, Maa," Aryan replied, careful to hide his glowing wrist beneath his sleeve.
His father entered, carrying a stack of books. "Ready for another day of college?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with pride.
Aryan nodded. "Yeah, Papa (Dad). Same old lectures, same old friends."
His father chuckled. "Sometimes, that's all you need."
At College
Walking through the bustling college campus, Aryan felt the familiar mix of excitement and nervousness. He wasn't the most popular guy, but he had a steady circle of friends — Raj, the outgoing joker; Leena, the brilliant mind with a sharp wit; and a few others who appreciated Aryan's dry humor and kindness.
Raj spotted him first, waving wildly. "Hey, glasses boy! You look like you're solving the secrets of the universe."
Aryan laughed. "If only. Just tired, I guess."
Leena glanced at his wrist. "Why are you hiding your arm? You always wear short sleeves."
"Nothing," Aryan mumbled, pulling down his sleeve. But inside, the tattoo pulsed like a secret heartbeat. as the lectures goes on and just like that the day come to halt .
That night, Aryan lay in bed, unable to shake the strange feeling crawling over his skin. The glowing tattoo cast faint shadows on the walls. And then — almost like a breeze through his mind — he heard it.
A whisper. A voice so soft, it was almost impossible to tell if it was real or imagined.
"Balance… breaking… time flows…"
Aryan sat up, heart pounding. The voice was gone.
He lay back down, eyes wide open. Could he be losing his mind? Or was something else reaching out?
In the days that followed, the whispers grew more persistent. Sometimes they came with flashes of images — ancient clock spinning, stars colliding, a cosmic dance of light and shadow.
The Laws — Nine eternal Laws created after the Singularity, each representing a fundamental force of the universe.
He had read about them in old myths, dismissed them as fantasy.
But the whispers said otherwise. But he ignore it like it is not happening .
Aryan's parents were his anchors in a world spinning faster than he could understand. His father, Professor Rajendra, taught history at the same college Aryan attended. He loved the past — ancient civilizations, forgotten philosophies, and stories of cosmic mysteries hidden in the folds of time.
At dinner one evening, Aryan gathered courage to ask.
"Papa, do you really think these cosmic Laws exist? Like forces that keep the universe balanced?"
His father paused, cutting his food slowly. "Many civilizations believed in unseen forces, Aryan. The Chinese spoke of Yin and Yang, the Hindus of Dharma and Karma. The Laws you speak of… perhaps they are something deeper, something science cannot yet explain."
His mother, a gentle woman named Shivani. , smiled. "Your curiosity is a gift. Just remember, some knowledge changes the way you see the world forever.
Aryan nodded, but the tattoo burned beneath his sleeve, an unseen reminder that his life was about to change forever.
One night, while studying late, Aryan felt the tattoo's glow intensify. The clock's hands spun faster, creating a soft ticking that filled the silent room.
Suddenly, time seemed to slow. The raindrops outside hung motionless in the air. The ticking grew louder, echoing in his chest.
A shadow appeared — a figure beyond sight, a voice in his mind:
"You are chosen, Aryan."
The vision was brief, but its weight crushed his chest.
The Law of Time had marked him.
"You hold the balance now," the voice whispered. "Beware, for dark forces seek to unravel reality itself."
Aryan gasped, clutching his wrist as the tattoo faded back to a soft glow.
The next morning, Aryan awoke with a new awareness. Time around him felt elastic — moments stretched, compressed.
At college, he caught the second hand of the wall clock hesitate for a heartbeat before continuing. His pulse matched the ticking.
Raj joked, "Dude, you're acting weirder than usual."
Aryan smiled weakly. "Maybe I am."
He didn't tell anyone about the tattoo or the whispers.
Some secrets were too heavy.
Weeks passed, and Aryan's power grew — the tattoo glowing brighter when he felt strong emotions. But with power came danger.
One evening, as Aryan walked home through an alley, a cold wind swept by. The shadows twisted unnaturally.
From the darkness emerged a figure, cloaked and ominous, eyes glowing like embers.
"You carry the Law of Time," the figure said, voice like gravel. "But time itself can be your undoing."
Aryan froze, heart pounding. The tattoo flared brightly.
The battle for balance had begun.