The next day, Raghvendra appeared above a modest hut. He waited for Misty but grew impatient and entered the house. When Misty contacted him, warning that the soul was emotionally attached to his family, and his overwhelming emotions could pose a threat. Raghvendra noted it and entered the house, he saw a woman coughing uncontrollably. Her son rushed to her, explaining that the pharmacist had refused to provide the medicine on credit. This scene reminded Raghvendra of his own son. Whenever Raghvendra fell ill, his son would sit beside him, narrating stories from a book while his wife prepared porridge. His gaze then got locked at the soul, sobbing near the woman. Raghvendra approached him but as soon as he turned, Raghvendra’s eyes widened. He stood there froze.

  After a while, Misty appeared and shouted, “Why aren’t you doing your job?” Raghvendra didn’t respond. Misty pressed further, asking, “Why?” To which Raghvendra finally replied, “Because of me.” His eyes grew numb, and a deep sense of guilt washed over him as he knelt. A memory flashed before him—of the same man pleading to him not to demolish his shop, but Raghvendra ignored him. That had led to the man becoming jobless, eventually turning to violence to protect his family’s survival. Misty jolted back him to reality, “Remember you saw that your family faith was ‘To be decided’. It’s because of you. Their path to heaven depends on your actions here. Now, take his soul.” Raghvendra hesitated, but finally he swung his sword, when suddenly his sword was blocked by another. The figure holding the sword greeted Misty. Misty replied, “Long time, no see, Karan.” and ordered Raghvendra again to take the soul, but still overwhelmed by guilt, he refused as Karan claimed the soul instead.

  They returned to Kua’s lair inside the cave, where Kua was waiting, his rage palpable. His voice echoed through the cavern as he demanded, “What happened?” Misty responded, his tone tense, “Karan appeared out of nowhere.” Kua’s confusion deepened. “Who?” Misty explained, “The previous Soul Hunter.” Kua smashed his throne in a fit of fury. “That bastard.” He collapsed to his knees, a ray of light escaping his hand as the others rushed to his side.

  Meanwhile, Raghvendra remembered the black stone and stealthily approached the room where it was kept. With hesitation, he waved his hand above the stone, revealing a display titled, "Time of Death." He searched for his wife and son, only to be stopped by a gentle pat on his back. He turned, his eyes blazing with anger and betrayal. “Why did you hide it, Misty?” His voice shook. Misty responded, his voice sharp, “Because it’s your fault.” The stone had revealed that his family was never meant to die in the fire—they were supposed to live long, happy lives.

  Misty continued, “Your wrongdoings killed them.” Raghvendra crumpled to his knees, unable to bear the truth. Misty placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your actions here will decide their afterlife—Hell or Heaven.” Tears streamed down Raghvendra’s face as he clutched his head, haunted by memories of his past sins, including the countless innocents he had sacrificed for his greed. Misty placed a comforting arm around him. “The past is past,” he said softly. Sobbing, Raghvendra looked up. “Can I trust you?” Misty met his gaze, unwavering, and nodded. The weight of these overwhelmed Raghvendra, and he staggered toward Misty, pulling him into a sudden embrace. Misty stiffened, clearly uncomfortable. He stood awkwardly, his hands hovering in the air, unsure of what to do.

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  For the first time, Misty felt a flicker of solace and felt the warmth of human connection. In a reassuring tone, he said, “Now, get up and do what must be done.”

  They made their way back to Kua and sought his blessing. They searched everywhere, when Misty soon informed Raghvendra that Karan had been spotted near the oceans. In a rush, Raghvendra pushed through the winds, reaching the coastline, while Misty followed close behind. There, they confronted Karan.

  Karan, visibly amused by their sudden appearance, sneered, “Misty! Your idol, Kua, is no idol.” Turning towards Raghvendra, he added, “And for you… you’ll understand later.”

  Misty, his voice sharp and taunting, shot back at Karan, “He’s just a loser.” With that, Raghvendra lunged at Karan, sword drawn, but Karan swiftly blocked the attack. The two clashed fiercely, swords locked, their fury palpable.

  Raghvendra struck again with full force, his sword crackling with lightning and flames, but Karan effortlessly parried the blow. Karan then summoned the power of the ocean, pushing Raghvendra several miles away.

  Shaken, Raghvendra sprinted back, his determination unwavering. He leapt, the sky behind him erupting with lightning, but Karan met his strike head-on, absorbing the force and driving him to the ground.

  With a wicked smirk, Karan taunted, “That day, you managed to save yourself, but not today.”

  A memory flashed in Raghvendra’s mind— that night. Arjun’s cheerful voice echoed through the phone, “When are you coming, Papa?” Excitement bubbled in every word.

  Raghvendra, busy passing files to his secretary, replied with practiced calmness, “In half an hour.”

  “Don’t be late again,” Arjun pleaded, his tone a mix of hope and caution, as though he had been let down too many times before.

  Raghvendra smiled faintly, even as his eyes remained glued to the papers before him. “How can I be late for your birthday?”

  “No, Papa!” Arjun corrected him with a laugh. “Not just mine—Mom’s too!”

  “Yes, her too,” Raghvendra replied, his voice softening.

  A sound echoed from the kitchen, “He will only arrive here when you will end the call.”

  Moments later, Raghvendra left the office in his car beside him was a big three-wheel bicycle and a delicate necklace in his hand.

  As he neared his home, he parked his car a few blocks, eager to surprise them. But his steps faltered as he saw the gigantic flames engulfing his house.

  “Arjun! Priya!” he screamed, his voice raw as he sprinted inside. Smoke clawed at his lungs, the acrid stench of burning wood and flesh stinging his senses. In the kitchen, he found them—his wife crouched over Arjun, shielding their son with her body.

  “Hold on!” he shouted, rushing toward them. Just as his fingers reached hers, the flames licked the stove. The blast ripped through the air hurling him out of the window.

  Through the haze of pain, he saw the inferno consume everything—his family, their laughter, their home—reduced to ash before his eyes. He tried to crawl back, his arms trembling under his weight, but his shattered limbs betrayed him.

  A child's voice, barely a whisper, echoed through the flames.

  “Papa... you were late.”