-[Chapter 2 Recap – Yash embraces his new faaltu (useless/absurd) superpower, oscillating between "I'm a legend" and "Maa, bachao! (Mom, save me!)". After resurrecting his gadgets like a thodi-mehnat-wala (low-effort) Jesus, he Googles "how to not destroy my life" while surviving on khichdi (rice-lentil porridge) and existential crises. Training montage begins: meditating like a sanyasi (ascetic), testing powers on a bekaar (useless) alarm clock, and learning emotions = apocalypse. His BFF Abhishek—nautanki (drama queen) king and reel-sending bewakoof (idiot)—joins the chaos, debating biryani supremacy and Bollywood's horror fails. Yash masters not dustifying the house maa ke dar se (from fear of Mom), but fine control? Abhi baaki hai, dost (The story's just begun, buddy). With parents returning soon, the real test begins: hiding his X-Men-meets-Golmaal (X-Men meets slapstick comedy) saga. Drama toh banta hai, boss! (Drama is mandatory, boss!) ]-
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Chapter 3 – Exams, Explosions, and Fart-Fire
As the evening rolled in, Yash heard the familiar sound of the front door opening, followed by his mother's voice.
"We're home! Yash, at least come and help with the bags," Chhaya Shah called out.
Yash sighed, placing his phone aside and heading to the living room. His mother, Chhaya, a woman in her late thirties, had the sharp eyes of an investigative journalist—except her specialty was gossip. She was a housewife, the kind who could remember every wedding she had ever attended and every minor inconvenience suffered at each one. Beside her, his father, Kamlesh Shah, a man in his early forties, adjusted his glasses with a tired expression. He was a businessman by profession but far more relaxed than his wife—almost more of a friend than a father to Yash.
"Beta (son), help your poor father before your mother makes me go back to return the gift because it 'wasn't good enough,'" Kamlesh muttered with a defeated look.
"Excuse me?" Chhaya turned to glare at him. "I didn't say it wasn't good enough. I said it was too good for them! You didn't see how that bride's side was acting all high and mighty. And don't get me started on her relatives—ugh!"
Kamlesh sighed and gave Yash a look that said, 'Save yourself, son.' Yash smirked but took the bags anyway.
As expected, dinner was a recap of every single thing his parents had found annoying at the wedding.
"I swear, the groom's uncle was staring at the buffet like it owed him money.
He stacked his plate so high it looked like he was preparing for a famine," Chhaya scoffed.
"Don't forget the bride's lehenga (wedding dress)," Kamlesh added. "It was so heavy, she looked like she was getting married to the floor."
Yash chuckled as he ate, enjoying the harmless gossip session.
Monday marked the start of Yash's exam week—one exam every other day. As a 7th-semester computer engineering student, he had long accepted that exams were less about knowledge and more about survival.
His friends at college shared the same sentiment.
"If I pass this subject, I'm treating everyone," Ishan declared dramatically.
"Bro, didn't you say the same thing last semester?" Yash smirked.
"And I passed, didn't I?" Ishan grinned. "Come on, how about we hang out on weekend?"
"Nah, I got plans." Yash refused shaking his head.
Each day, Yash juggled exams, last-minute revisions, and the occasional existential crisis. Engineering students had a unique tradition—one where they only studied the night before, relying on divine intervention and 'important topics' leaked by seniors.
By Friday, the last day of exams, Yash was officially free.
"Congratulations, gentlemen," he said to his friends. "We have successfully bullshitted our way through another semester."
"And just one more left before freedom," someone sighed wistfully.
After saying his goodbyes, Yash started his walk home, ready to embrace his 1.5-month-long break.
Life at home during the past week wasn't without its share of chaos either.
Since discovering his ability to deconstruct and reconstruct things, Yash had been careful. But… sometimes, things slipped.
Like when his parents' antics got on his nerves.
"You won't believe what Sharma ji's wife said today," Chhaya huffed.
"Oh no, here we go again," Yash mumbled under his breath.
Kamlesh, sensing the incoming gossip storm, tried to escape. "I just remembered I have work—"
"No, sit down! You need to hear this," Chhaya insisted.
As Yash listened to the never-ending cycle of relative drama, he got so frustrated that he accidentally deconstructed the glass in his hand.
Oh, crap.
He hastily reconstructed it before his parents noticed.
Another incident happened at dinner when Chhaya cooked lauki (bottle gourd) again.
Yash and Kamlesh stared at their plates in despair.
"This… this is betrayal," Kamlesh whispered.
Yash, unable to endure it, secretly used his ability to deconstruct the food.
"Done," he announced, wiping his mouth.
Kamlesh stared at him. "Wait, what? But I didn't see you eat—"
"Dad, digestion is a mindset," Yash said, walking away.
Kamlesh looked at his now untouched plate with a betrayed expression.
After finishing his last exam, Yash walked home, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. His 7th semester was officially over.
To celebrate, he pulled out his phone and opened a very specific novel.
It was smut. Intense BDSM smut.
And yet, his expression remained neutral as he read about the protagonist tying up their lover with intricate knots that would make a sailor jealous.
A passerby glanced at his phone screen and gasped audibly.
Yash sighed. People should mind their own business.
As he continued reading about the fictional couple's questionable life choices, he thought, Ah, nothing like some light reading after exams.
And with that, his 1.5-month vacation officially began.
Yash continued walking, eyes glued to his phone, his mind too deep in questionable literature to notice the subtle shift in his surroundings.
Without realizing it, his emotions had fluctuated slightly—just enough for his power to unknowingly deconstruct a part of an invisible barrier he had just walked through.
Still blissfully unaware, Yash kept strolling. The dim streetlights flickered above him, casting long shadows over the empty sidewalk. To his left were rows of residential buildings, their balconies adorned with drying clothes and the occasional dust wafting through the air.
To his right, however…
BOOM!
A deafening explosion shook the ground. Sparks of blue and red energy crackled in the air, illuminating the scene in chaotic flashes. Three cars had crashed into one another, their twisted frames blocking half the road. In the middle of the wreckage, two groups of people were fighting—and not just regular fighting.
They were hurling magic at each other.
One side, dressed in black robes, looked like they had walked straight out of a knockoff Harry Potter convention. The other group was led by a girl who seemed to be around Yash's age, her long hair flowing behind her as she blocked incoming spells with a glowing shield.
Yash, meanwhile, didn't even look up.
He kept walking, eyes still locked on his phone.
Then, after a few more steps, something in the back of his mind nagged at him. Wait a minute…
He stopped mid-step, blinked, then slowly turned his head toward the right.
There it was—three totaled cars, people in robes shooting fire and lightning at each other, and a guy quite literally farting flames.
Yash rubbed his eyes.
Then looked again.
The fart-fire guy launched another attack, and the group led by the girl barely managed to shield themselves.
"...Did that guy just fucking fart fire!?"
His voice, though just a whisper, held enough disbelief to make reality itself pause for a moment.
Yash stood there, staring at the battle with the same blank expression someone might have while waiting in line at the bank. His brain struggled to process what he was seeing.
Movie shooting? No, there's no camera crew… Prank show? But the magic looks too real… Drug-induced hallucination? Maa kasam (I swear on my mother), if Ishan spiked my chai, I'm disowning him…
As his brain lagged like his decade-old i3 laptop, the battle escalated.
One of the black-robed men suddenly pulled out an RPG launcher from under his cloak.
Yash blinked again.
"…Bro, what?"
Before he could even process why a wizard had a whole rocket launcher, the robed man aimed at the girl leading the other group and fired.
The girl quickly raised her hands, her shield flaring bright as it absorbed the blast and deflected it—straight towards Yash.
Time slowed.
The missile spiraled in his direction, fire and smoke trailing behind it.
Yash's brain finally caught up.
"FUCK!"
His scream echoed through the barrier, making every single person in the battle turn toward him.
The girl's eyes widened in horror. Someone had entered their barrier! And worse—he was about to die because of her!
She immediately rushed forward, trying to reach him before the explosion could. But the black-robed figures weren't about to let that happen. They fired more spells at her, forcing her to defend herself.
Meanwhile, Yash tried to backpedal for his life, but his legs refused to function.
His mind screamed at him. DO SOMETHING! DODGE! JUMP! ROLL! CRY!
But the only thing his body actually did—
Was instinctively activate his power.
Just as the RPG was about to explode in his face—
It disintegrated into dust.
Silence.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
The girl skidded to a halt, her mouth slightly open in shock. The people in robes froze mid-spell, eyes darting between Yash and the cloud of dust where the RPG had once been. Even fart-fire guy stopped mid-gas release, clenching his butt in pure confusion.
The newly arrived group—men in suits, who seemed to be on the girl's side—quickly moved in, creating a protective formation around her.
The black-robed figures, realizing they were outnumbered, immediately turned and ran.
One of them screamed, "RETREAT!", dropping a smoke bomb and vanishing into the smoke.
Yash, meanwhile, was still standing there, hand outstretched, watching the dust settle. His mind had officially crashed.
"…What the fuck just happened?"
The girl, now safe behind her suited guards, continued staring at him in disbelief.
One of the men in suits leaned toward her and whispered, "Miss, I think we have a problem."
The girl nodded slowly.
They had just witnessed an anomaly.
And now—they had to figure out what to do with him.
-[End]-