From time immemorial to the present day, the world as we know it—the global order we perceive and understand—has never truly been in the hands of governments, kings, or elected officials. Instead, it has always been manipulated by forces that remain hidden from the public eye, operating from the shadows, steering history according to their own designs.
Among these clandestine powers, only a few dominant factions have endured through the centuries, their influence stretching across continents. Within the highest echelons of British-American intelligence agencies, these forces are known by their code names—some acting in plain sight under the guise of diplomacy and enterprise, while others pull the strings from the darkness, their very existence a closely guarded secret.
These powers control the world's most lucrative and illicit trades—drug smuggling, gold and diamond trafficking, human exploitation, and even the orchestration of global conflicts and terrorism. Rivalries between them spark hidden wars, battles fought not with armies but with whispers, assassinations, and financial maneuvers capable of toppling nations.
Yet, despite the chaos, three major forces stand above the rest.
The first, known as "God Axis," is a covert Afro-Chinese nexus operating under the name Shen Triad. Ruthless and efficient, it controls one of the largest drug empires in the world. From the slums of Africa to the neon-lit cities of China, Shen Triad's grip extends through an intricate web of cartels, corrupt officials, and underground chemists, flooding the world with narcotics while remaining untouchable.
The second, "Lucifer Nexus," is an Indo-Arab mega syndicate known as Khureshi Ab'raam. Unlike Shen Triad, its power lies in wealth—mountains of it. As one of the largest gold and diamond smuggling networks on the planet, Khureshi Ab'raam operates in the shadows of global markets, manipulating economies with a mere whisper. Their hands stretch into the deepest mines of Africa, the trading floors of Dubai, and the backrooms of Swiss banks, turning blood-soaked minerals into an empire of untold riches.
But the third… the third is the most mysterious of them all.
"Dharma Chakra." A name that lingers like a ghost in the underworld. A mercenary force known only as Maheshwar—a being whose origins, motives, and true face remain unknown. Unlike the other two, Maheshwar does not deal in drugs or gold. Instead, he and his elusive group wage a silent war against the very foundations of the underworld. In the last decade, Maheshwar has single-handedly eradicated countless drug lords, human traffickers, and terrorists, leaving behind nothing but whispers and rumors.
Some say he is a devil, a harbinger of destruction who thrives in chaos. Others believe he is an angel, a necessary evil wiping filth from the earth. But one thing is certain—his presence is undeniable.
Or at least, it was.
For the past three years, Maheshwar has vanished without a trace. The underworld no longer speaks his name in fear, and his actions have faded into legend. Yet, Dharma Chakra still moves in the shadows, its agents executing silent operations across the world. No one knows where they are, what they seek, or when they will strike again.
And the question remains—where is Maheshwar?
Some believe he is dead. Others whisper that he is merely watching, waiting. But those who have survived his wrath know one thing:
When he returns, the world will tremble.
(All Of This Is Bullshit)
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"3RD PERSON POV"
"SOMEWHERE IN HYDERABAD"
Dark clouds loomed over the city of Hyderabad, their heavy presence blotting out the last traces of daylight. Rain poured relentlessly, cascading in thick sheets, drumming against rooftops and pavement in a deafening rhythm. The cold wind howled through the streets, carrying the scent of wet earth, while flashes of lightning split the sky, illuminating the dark evening for mere moments before plunging it back into shadow.
The city streets were alive with movement—people hurried toward their homes, shielding themselves with umbrellas and raincoats, their footsteps splashing through shallow puddles. Streetlights flickered against the downpour, their golden glow reflecting off the wet asphalt. The distant honking of car horns echoed through the air, sometimes sharp, sometimes fading into the storm.
Among the few still braving the rain, a young man in his twenties walked alone. He wore casual clothes beneath a warm hoodie, the hood pulled up slightly to shield his face from the cold breeze. In his hand, he held a transparent umbrella, raindrops striking against it in a rhythmic patter.
The streets were quieter now. Most of the city's workforce had already left for home, their nine-to-five routines ending for the day. Only a handful of late workers and stragglers remained, moving quickly to escape the cold embrace of the rain.
As the young man walked through the rain-soaked streets, he tilted his head upward, his dark eyes gazing at the stormy sky. The wind tousled his jet-black hair, strands whipping around his face as he look in the heavy clouds that refused to part. With a tired sigh, he muttered to himself,
"The rain isn't showing any signs of stopping today… sigh."
Just as the words left his mouth, a transparent screen materialized in front of him, hovering in midair. Bright, glowing text flickered onto the screen:
[Host, I have detected a movie plot nearby.]
The young man, however, barely reacted. He simply yawned lazily, rubbing his eyes as if this was nothing new. With an indifferent expression, he muttered,
'Not interested, SYS.'
SYS, or System, was his so-called gift—a power that set him apart from the ordinary people of this world. Because he wasn't just an ordinary person.
He was a reincarnator.
His name was Aravind Raghavan, and in his past life, he had been just another man. But when he was reborn into this universe, he quickly realized something bizarre—movies were real. Every film, every fictional story that people in his past life had watched on screens… they weren't just entertainment here. They were actual events, unfolding in real time across the world.
And to help him navigate this strange reality, he had been granted the "Movie Plot System."
This system had a singular function—it would notify him whenever he encountered a movie character or when a movie plot was beginning to unfold nearby. If he chose to interfere, he would be rewarded.
Hearing Aravind's words, the system responded instantly.
[Host, it's been a while since you last interfered in a movie plot. Please consider intervening—you know you'll be rewarded, as always.]
Aravind barely reacted. Without breaking his stride, he replied lazily,
'Nah, I'm fine. Not interested in those stupid plots.'
The system went silent for a moment before responding again, its tone laced with something resembling exasperation.
[Host, I really don't understand you at all. It's been so many years… Don't you want some excitement? Don't you want a harem filled with beautiful heroines? We're in Hyderabad, the heart of the film industry! You could meet famous Heroines, live the dream! Doesn't the idea of having a harem of gorgeous movie heroines interest you even a little?]
Aravind rolled his eyes. A gust of wind blew through the street, carrying raindrops that splattered onto his face. He wiped them away with the back of his hand before replying in a deadpan voice,
'No. Not interested.'
[...]
The system fell silent, as if momentarily stunned by his rejection.
Aravind smirked to himself and kept walking.
'I'm happy with the way things are,' he continued. 'I don't need to chase after trouble. I like my peaceful life.'
The system hesitated before responding in a slightly robotic but almost teasing tone.
[Peaceful life? Host, you have no parents, no friends, no girlfriend... In simple terms, you're a loner.]
Hearing those words, Aravind placed a hand over his chest, feigning deep hurt as he spoke dramatically,
'That's harsh, SYS! That really hurts!'
But his act lasted only a second before he returned to his usual indifferent tone.
'Besides, I have my little café—that's more than enough for me.'
The system responded instantly, its tone flat and dismissive.
[Oh, you mean that café hardly anyone knows about? It's a complete waste of time.]
A vein twitched on Aravind's forehead. His relaxed expression twisted into irritation as he gritted his teeth and snapped,
"Damn you, SYS! Don't talk bad about my café! It's my dream! You wouldn't understand—that's exactly why I hate sentient systems!"
As he raised his voice, a little girl walking past with her mother pointed at him and giggled.
"Mommy, look! That man is talking to himself like an idiot! Hahaha!"
Hearing her words, Aravind froze. He turned his head slowly, locking eyes with the pair. The little girl's mother immediately tensed, her grip tightening around her daughter's hand.
"Don't look at people like that, dear," the woman whispered hurriedly. "They're... mentally unstable. They can be dangerous."
Without another word, she pulled her daughter close and hurried away, practically dragging her down the street.
Aravind watched them go, his expression blank. A long sigh escaped his lips as he muttered under his breath,
"…Just another normal day."
Seeing this, SYS responded immediately.
[Idiot. Mentally unstable. LOL.]
Aravind froze mid-step. His eyes twitched.
'Wait... did you just 'LOL' me, SYS?'
[No, Host. I am incapable of displaying emotions in such a manner.]
Aravind narrowed his eyes.
'Don't lie to me! You literally just said 'LOL'!'
[No, Host. That must be your imagination. However, I do believe you are in dire need of friends. And a girlfriend. Otherwise, you are statistically likely to die alone.]
'Tsk. Thanks for the concern, but no thanks. I told you, I'm not interested. I just want to live a normal, peaceful life.'
SYS remained silent for a moment before finally speaking again.
[Host.]
Aravind raised an eyebrow. 'What?'
[Host, you are not an ordinary person. Even if you want to be. You ki—]
'Stop. Stop right there!' Aravind interrupted hastily, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. 'I have no idea what you're talking about, SYS. I'm just an ordinary guy running a small café. I just want to live happily and peacefully, alright?'
SYS didn't respond immediately, and for a moment, Aravind thought the conversation was over.
[So, to confirm—you do not wish to interfere in any movie plot?]
'That's right.'
[Are you absolutely sure, Host?]
'One hundred percent sure.'
A brief pause. Then—
[Understood, Host.]
A small smile tugged at Aravind's lips. Finally, some peace. But just as he was about to relax, SYS's voice rang out again—louder this time.
[HOST NO LONGER REQUIRES THIS VERSION. UPDATING SYSTEM… LOADING… LOADING…]
Aravind's expression twisted into pure panic.
'Wait, what? SYS, what the hell is happening?!'
[Please wait, Host. The system is updating.]
His stomach dropped.
'Update?! Why all of a sudden? SYS, what kind of update are we talking about here?!'
Silence.
For the first time in years, SYS completely ignored him.
A long, exhausted sigh left Aravind's lips as he tilted his head back, staring up at the dark sky through his transparent umbrella. The rain drummed steadily above him, an endless rhythm of chaos and calm.
"Just my luck."
Shaking his head, he took another deep breath before turning on his heel, heading toward the one place that gave him comfort—his café.