With a sudden gasp, Karanjit jolted awake.
The buzz of fluorescent lighting hummed overhead, contrasting sharply with the chaos of the dream he'd just left. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a war drum. Cold sweat clung to his back. Breathing heavily, he blinked, taking in the glow of his monitors and the silence of the empty office. He was still at Quantum Studios.
A dream. A horrifyingly real one.
He stared at the screen. The game was paused on a simulation of the same alien craft he had just seen in his sleep—a sleek, black dreadnought hovering over a burning city. Was it coincidence? Or something deeper? The timing chilled him.
Rubbing his temples, he exhaled deeply. "Get it together. It's just the pressure."
But unease lingered. There was a heaviness in his chest, as if the dream had left something behind. A warning.
He packed up quietly and headed out to pick up Mehar. She greeted him with her usual joy, instantly lifting his spirits. Still, the weight in his gut hadn't left.
"Papa, can we go to the mall today? Please?" she asked, clinging to his arm.
He hesitated.
But she looked so much like Amrita when she smiled.
"Of course, puttar. Let's go."
Silvergate Mall was crowded, buzzing with the noise of the weekend rush. Teenagers laughed near the arcade. Parents juggled shopping bags. A juggler outside the food court drew a cheering crowd.
Karanjit let Mehar explore the toy store while he sat nearby sipping coffee. But he couldn't relax.
Then he saw them.
Three men. Long trench coats. Pale skin. Their eyes scanned the crowd with a clinical intensity that immediately struck him as wrong. Their faces were too still, too emotionless. No blinking. No shifting. Just... watching.
One of them made brief eye contact. For the shortest second, Karanjit saw it: a faint, green shimmer in their irises. Not human.
"Not again," he whispered, every instinct screaming.
He stood, pretending to scroll his phone, and moved toward the toy store. That's when the lights dimmed. Just slightly. But enough.
And then the trench coats dropped.
Panic exploded. Shoppers screamed. A mother pulled her child to safety. An alien revealed itself fully—skeletal in form, skin like brushed steel, arms elongated and clawed. And worst of all—they were armed.
Karanjit didn't think. He ran toward Mehar, grabbing her just as an alien fired a pulse that melted the floor tiles behind him.
He dove behind a display of books, shielding her with his body. Trembling, he reached into his backpack. He had one thing.
The Quantum Feedback Device.
He'd built it as a prototype, a gimmick for immersion in his game. But it worked by real principles: directional energy disruption. He had no idea if it could even be weaponized.
But he had no choice.
He whispered, "Waheguru, meri madad karo..."
Then, he stood.
The nearest alien advanced, plasma blade hissing. Karanjit activated the device and hurled it forward. A burst of raw blue light detonated midair, sending the alien flying into a concrete pillar. Screams turned to shocked gasps.
Another one charged. Karanjit ducked and rolled, grabbing a metal pole from a fallen signboard and swinging it with precision into the attacker's side. Sparks erupted from beneath its armored skin.
Mehar screamed. One of them was heading straight for her.
"No."
He grabbed the device, overloading it. It sparked in his hand. The alien lunged—and Karanjit threw the device directly at its chest. A thunderous pulse exploded outward, collapsing ceiling panels and short-circuiting the nearby security bots.
The creature shrieked in a distorted, alien pitch and fell.
Smoke filled the air. Civilians ran. Security arrived. The final alien activated a cloaking field and vanished before they could react.
Karanjit picked up his daughter, blood trickling down his temple. "Are you okay?"
"I was so scared..." she sobbed.
He held her close. "It's okay. I've got you. Waheguru is with us. Always."
As the chaos calmed, he knew the truth.
The invasion hadn't just begun.
It had already infiltrated.
And his dream wasn't just a nightmare. It was a message.
This was just the beginning.
Chapter 2: A Whisper of Reality With a sudden gasp, Karanjit jolted awake.
The buzz of fluorescent lighting hummed overhead, contrasting sharply with the chaos of the dream he'd just left. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a war drum. Cold sweat clung to his back. Breathing heavily, he blinked, taking in the glow of his monitors and the silence of the empty office. He was still at Quantum Studios.
A dream. A horrifyingly real one.
He stared at the screen. The game was paused on a simulation of the same alien craft he had just seen in his sleep—a sleek, black dreadnought hovering over a burning city. Was it coincidence? Or something deeper? The timing chilled him.
Rubbing his temples, he exhaled deeply. "Get it together. It's just the pressure."
But unease lingered. There was a heaviness in his chest, as if the dream had left something behind. A warning.
He packed up quietly and headed out to pick up Mehar. She greeted him with her usual joy, instantly lifting his spirits. Still, the weight in his gut hadn't left.
"Papa, can we go to the mall today? Please?" she asked, clinging to his arm.
He hesitated.
But she looked so much like Amrita when she smiled.
"Of course, puttar. Let's go."
Silvergate Mall was crowded, buzzing with the noise of the weekend rush. Teenagers laughed near the arcade. Parents juggled shopping bags. A juggler outside the food court drew a cheering crowd.
Karanjit let Mehar explore the toy store while he sat nearby sipping coffee. But he couldn't relax.
Then he saw them.
Three men. Long trench coats. Pale skin. Their eyes scanned the crowd with a clinical intensity that immediately struck him as wrong. Their faces were too still, too emotionless. No blinking. No shifting. Just... watching.
One of them made brief eye contact. For the shortest second, Karanjit saw it: a faint, green shimmer in their irises. Not human.
"Not again," he whispered, every instinct screaming.
He stood, pretending to scroll his phone, and moved toward the toy store. That's when the lights dimmed. Just slightly. But enough.
And then the trench coats dropped.
Panic exploded. Shoppers screamed. A mother pulled her child to safety. An alien revealed itself fully—skeletal in form, skin like brushed steel, arms elongated and clawed. And worst of all—they were armed.
Karanjit didn't think. He ran toward Mehar, grabbing her just as an alien fired a pulse that melted the floor tiles behind him.
He dove behind a display of books, shielding her with his body. Trembling, he reached into his backpack. He had one thing.
The Quantum Feedback Device.
He'd built it as a prototype, a gimmick for immersion in his game. But it worked by real principles: directional energy disruption. He had no idea if it could even be weaponized.
But he had no choice.
He whispered, "Waheguru, meri madad karo..."
Then, he stood.
The nearest alien advanced, plasma blade hissing. Karanjit activated the device and hurled it forward. A burst of raw blue light detonated midair, sending the alien flying into a concrete pillar. Screams turned to shocked gasps.
Another one charged. Karanjit ducked and rolled, grabbing a metal pole from a fallen signboard and swinging it with precision into the attacker's side. Sparks erupted from beneath its armored skin.
Mehar screamed. One of them was heading straight for her.
"No."
He grabbed the device, overloading it. It sparked in his hand. The alien lunged—and Karanjit threw the device directly at its chest. A thunderous pulse exploded outward, collapsing ceiling panels and short-circuiting the nearby security bots.
The creature shrieked in a distorted, alien pitch and fell.
Smoke filled the air. Civilians ran. Security arrived. The final alien activated a cloaking field and vanished before they could react.
Karanjit picked up his daughter, blood trickling down his temple. "Are you okay?"
"I was so scared..." she sobbed.
He held her close. "It's okay. I've got you. Waheguru is with us. Always."
As the chaos calmed, he knew the truth.
The invasion hadn't just begun.
It had already infiltrated.
And his dream wasn't just a nightmare. It was a message.
This was just the beginning.
Chapter 2: A Whisper of Reality With a sudden gasp, Karanjit jolted awake.
The buzz of fluorescent lighting hummed overhead, contrasting sharply with the chaos of the dream he'd just left. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a war drum. Cold sweat clung to his back. Breathing heavily, he blinked, taking in the glow of his monitors and the silence of the empty office. He was still at Quantum Studios.
A dream. A horrifyingly real one.
He stared at the screen. The game was paused on a simulation of the same alien craft he had just seen in his sleep—a sleek, black dreadnought hovering over a burning city. Was it coincidence? Or something deeper? The timing chilled him.
Rubbing his temples, he exhaled deeply. "Get it together. It's just the pressure."
But unease lingered. There was a heaviness in his chest, as if the dream had left something behind. A warning.
He packed up quietly and headed out to pick up Mehar. She greeted him with her usual joy, instantly lifting his spirits. Still, the weight in his gut hadn't left.
"Papa, can we go to the mall today? Please?" she asked, clinging to his arm.
He hesitated.
But she looked so much like Amrita when she smiled.
"Of course, puttar. Let's go."
Silvergate Mall was crowded, buzzing with the noise of the weekend rush. Teenagers laughed near the arcade. Parents juggled shopping bags. A juggler outside the food court drew a cheering crowd.
Karanjit let Mehar explore the toy store while he sat nearby sipping coffee. But he couldn't relax.
Then he saw them.
Three men. Long trench coats. Pale skin. Their eyes scanned the crowd with a clinical intensity that immediately struck him as wrong. Their faces were too still, too emotionless. No blinking. No shifting. Just... watching.
One of them made brief eye contact. For the shortest second, Karanjit saw it: a faint, green shimmer in their irises. Not human.
"Not again," he whispered, every instinct screaming.
He stood, pretending to scroll his phone, and moved toward the toy store. That's when the lights dimmed. Just slightly. But enough.
And then the trench coats dropped.
Panic exploded. Shoppers screamed. A mother pulled her child to safety. An alien revealed itself fully—skeletal in form, skin like brushed steel, arms elongated and clawed. And worst of all—they were armed.
Karanjit didn't think. He ran toward Mehar, grabbing her just as an alien fired a pulse that melted the floor tiles behind him.
He dove behind a display of books, shielding her with his body. Trembling, he reached into his backpack. He had one thing.
The Quantum Feedback Device.
He'd built it as a prototype, a gimmick for immersion in his game. But it worked by real principles: directional energy disruption. He had no idea if it could even be weaponized.
But he had no choice.
He whispered, "Waheguru, meri madad karo..."
Then, he stood.
The nearest alien advanced, plasma blade hissing. Karanjit activated the device and hurled it forward. A burst of raw blue light detonated midair, sending the alien flying into a concrete pillar. Screams turned to shocked gasps.
Another one charged. Karanjit ducked and rolled, grabbing a metal pole from a fallen signboard and swinging it with precision into the attacker's side. Sparks erupted from beneath its armored skin.
Mehar screamed. One of them was heading straight for her.
"No."
He grabbed the device, overloading it. It sparked in his hand. The alien lunged—and Karanjit threw the device directly at its chest. A thunderous pulse exploded outward, collapsing ceiling panels and short-circuiting the nearby security bots.
The creature shrieked in a distorted, alien pitch and fell.
Smoke filled the air. Civilians ran. Security arrived. The final alien activated a cloaking field and vanished before they could react.
Karanjit picked up his daughter, blood trickling down his temple. "Are you okay?"
"I was so scared..." she sobbed.
He held her close. "It's okay. I've got you. Waheguru is with us. Always."
As the chaos calmed, he knew the truth.
The invasion hadn't just begun.
It had already infiltrated.
And his dream wasn't just a nightmare. It was a message.
This was just the beginning.
Chapter 2: A Whisper of Reality With a sudden gasp, Karanjit jolted awake.
The buzz of fluorescent lighting hummed overhead, contrasting sharply with the chaos of the dream he'd just left. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a war drum. Cold sweat clung to his back. Breathing heavily, he blinked, taking in the glow of his monitors and the silence of the empty office. He was still at Quantum Studios.
A dream. A horrifyingly real one.
He stared at the screen. The game was paused on a simulation of the same alien craft he had just seen in his sleep—a sleek, black dreadnought hovering over a burning city. Was it coincidence? Or something deeper? The timing chilled him.
Rubbing his temples, he exhaled deeply. "Get it together. It's just the pressure."
But unease lingered. There was a heaviness in his chest, as if the dream had left something behind. A warning.
He packed up quietly and headed out to pick up Mehar. She greeted him with her usual joy, instantly lifting his spirits. Still, the weight in his gut hadn't left.
"Papa, can we go to the mall today? Please?" she asked, clinging to his arm.
He hesitated.
But she looked so much like Amrita when she smiled.
"Of course, puttar. Let's go."
Silvergate Mall was crowded, buzzing with the noise of the weekend rush. Teenagers laughed near the arcade. Parents juggled shopping bags. A juggler outside the food court drew a cheering crowd.
Karanjit let Mehar explore the toy store while he sat nearby sipping coffee. But he couldn't relax.
Then he saw them.
Three men. Long trench coats. Pale skin. Their eyes scanned the crowd with a clinical intensity that immediately struck him as wrong. Their faces were too still, too emotionless. No blinking. No shifting. Just... watching.
One of them made brief eye contact. For the shortest second, Karanjit saw it: a faint, green shimmer in their irises. Not human.
"Not again," he whispered, every instinct screaming.
He stood, pretending to scroll his phone, and moved toward the toy store. That's when the lights dimmed. Just slightly. But enough.
And then the trench coats dropped.
Panic exploded. Shoppers screamed. A mother pulled her child to safety. An alien revealed itself fully—skeletal in form, skin like brushed steel, arms elongated and clawed. And worst of all—they were armed.
Karanjit didn't think. He ran toward Mehar, grabbing her just as an alien fired a pulse that melted the floor tiles behind him.
He dove behind a display of books, shielding her with his body. Trembling, he reached into his backpack. He had one thing.
The Quantum Feedback Device.
He'd built it as a prototype, a gimmick for immersion in his game. But it worked by real principles: directional energy disruption. He had no idea if it could even be weaponized.
But he had no choice.
He whispered, "Waheguru, meri madad karo..."
Then, he stood.
The nearest alien advanced, plasma blade hissing. Karanjit activated the device and hurled it forward. A burst of raw blue light detonated midair, sending the alien flying into a concrete pillar. Screams turned to shocked gasps.
Another one charged. Karanjit ducked and rolled, grabbing a metal pole from a fallen signboard and swinging it with precision into the attacker's side. Sparks erupted from beneath its armored skin.
Mehar screamed. One of them was heading straight for her.
"No."
He grabbed the device, overloading it. It sparked in his hand. The alien lunged—and Karanjit threw the device directly at its chest. A thunderous pulse exploded outward, collapsing ceiling panels and short-circuiting the nearby security bots.
The creature shrieked in a distorted, alien pitch and fell.
Smoke filled the air. Civilians ran. Security arrived. The final alien activated a cloaking field and vanished before they could react.
Karanjit picked up his daughter, blood trickling down his temple. "Are you okay?"
"I was so scared..." she sobbed.
He held her close. "It's okay. I've got you. Waheguru is with us. Always."
As the chaos calmed, he knew the truth.
The invasion hadn't just begun.
It had already infiltrated.
And his dream wasn't just a nightmare. It was a message.
This was just the beginning.