Chapter 8: Ashes and Blood
663 Words
The Factory Burns
The abandoned factory was no longer just a battleground—it was a collapsing graveyard.
The structure groaned as flames licked the steel beams, turning the once-darkened warehouse into a furnace of destruction. Smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating, but neither Anant nor Junaid cared.
They were locked in a brutal dance of death.
Junaid lunged, his fist moving like a bullet. Anant barely dodged, the shockwave of the punch shattering a nearby wall.
Anant retaliated, his blade flashing. The knife carved across Junaid’s chest, leaving a deep gash. But again—no blood. Only the sickly glow of corrupted flesh, the wound sealing itself within seconds.
Junaid grinned, his eyes burning with that unnatural fire.
“You’re fighting a losing battle, boy.”
Anant’s expression remained cold. Calculating. “We’ll see.”
Then he moved.
---
A Fight Beyond Humanity
Anant was faster. His strikes were relentless, each movement designed to kill. His blade slashed, his fists shattered bones. But Junaid had become something else—something that refused to break.
A punch caught Anant’s ribs. He felt them crack.
He staggered back—just for a second.
Junaid didn’t let up. He grabbed Anant by the throat and slammed him into the concrete floor. The impact sent dust and debris flying.
The pain was real.
But Anant had suffered worse.
He twisted, slipping free, his boot connecting with Junaid’s jaw. The crime lord barely flinched. He wiped his mouth, his grin widening.
“You’re strong,” Junaid admitted. “But you’re still human.”
Anant said nothing.
Then the shadows stirred.
Dark tendrils slithered around Anant’s form, coiling like living things. The air grew colder. The flames flickered, their light dimming.
Lucifer’s voice echoed in Anant’s mind.
“It’s time to stop playing fair.”
Anant’s fingers curled into fists.
His body pulsed with something unnatural.
And then he vanished.
---
Junaid Faces the Abyss
Junaid’s eyes widened—just for a second.
Then—
Pain.
A blade carved through his shoulder from behind. He roared, twisting, but Anant was already gone—nothing but a blur in the darkness.
Another s***h. Another wound.
For the first time since his transformation, Junaid felt something unfamiliar.
Doubt.
He swung wildly, his strikes powerful but desperate. The factory trembled with each impact, steel beams collapsing under his fury. But Anant remained untouchable, weaving through the chaos like a phantom.
Then—
A hand gripped the back of Junaid’s skull.
And slammed his face into the concrete.
The ground cracked.
Junaid snarled, lashing out—but Anant was already behind him again. Another cut. Another deep wound. The once-unstoppable gangster was slowing down.
And Anant?
He was just getting started.
---
The Breaking Point
Junaid stumbled, his breathing heavy. His once-perfect regeneration was slowing. His body wasn’t healing as quickly.
His deal had given him power—
But it wasn’t limitless.
And Anant had figured it out.
Junaid wiped the blood from his mouth, laughing through gritted teeth. “You think… you can win?”
Anant didn’t answer.
He just raised his blade.
And charged.
---
The End of a King
Junaid threw everything he had left. His punches shook the building, his roars deafening. He moved with desperation, with fury—
But Anant was past fear.
Past hesitation.
Past humanity.
He ducked beneath a wild swing, his knife plunging into Junaid’s gut. Deep. Twisting.
Junaid gasped.
Anant’s voice was quiet.
“Your power was borrowed.”
He yanked the blade free. Junaid dropped to his knees, his hands pressing against the wound.
The glow in his veins flickered.
Dying.
Anant stepped back, watching as Junaid’s body betrayed him. The unholy power he had sold his soul for was leaving him, draining like water through his fingers.
Junaid looked up, his face contorted in rage.
“…Finish it.”
Anant didn’t hesitate.
The blade flashed one final time.
Junaid Bhatt’s head hit the ground.
And Mumbai belonged to Anant Malhotra.
- Writer
