The abandoned subway station became a battleground. Dust swirled in the dim light as Kabir moved like a phantom, weaving between Syndicate operatives with impossible speed.

The ring pulsed against his skin, and for the first time, he embraced its power fully.

A gunman raised his weapon—Kabir was already in front of him, twisting the barrel away before delivering a crushing elbow to the man's temple. Another attacker lunged with a knife, but Kabir sidestepped effortlessly, catching the blade mid-air and flipping his opponent onto the hard concrete.

Ananya watched in stunned silence. Kabir wasn’t just fighting—he was dominating.

But something was wrong.

With each strike, Kabir felt the ring's pull growing stronger, his vision narrowing, his breath shallower. It was as if something deep inside him was being drained.

The last Syndicate operative standing hesitated, fear flashing in his eyes. Kabir could see it—his pulse quickening, his grip on the gun unsteady.

A single thought entered Kabir’s mind: End it.

He clenched his fist. The power surged, his body moving on its own—

“Kabir, stop!” Ananya’s voice cut through the haze.

Kabir froze, fist inches from the man’s skull. The air crackled with energy, but in that moment of hesitation, the operative scrambled away, disappearing into the darkness.

The fight was over. But Kabir felt no victory.

He stumbled back, his breath ragged, heart pounding. He yanked the ring off his finger, and instantly, his body screamed in protest. His vision blurred, his limbs trembled. His own strength had turned against him.

Ananya caught him before he collapsed. “What the hell was that?”

Kabir swallowed hard. “I… I lost control.”

The Aftermath

They moved quickly, putting as much distance between themselves and the subway as possible. By the time they reached an abandoned apartment Vikram had prepared as a fallback, Kabir could barely stand.

Ananya pushed him onto a chair and knelt beside him. “That ring—it’s not normal.”

Kabir looked down at it, still clutched in his palm. “No. It’s not.”

He remembered the vision, the voice in the battlefield. Power comes with a price.

And he had just tasted it.

Vikram’s voice crackled through their comms. “You two alive?”

“Barely,” Ananya replied. “We got the ledger, but Kabir… something happened.”

There was a long pause before Vikram spoke again. “Meet me at the safehouse. We need to talk.”

Kabir exhaled, gripping the ring tighter.

He had won the fight. But at what cost?

And more importantly—what was the ring turning him into?