Chakra & Circuits : The Alien Hero

The sun beat down now, turning the Dholakpur lanes into shimmering ribbons of heat. But Kalia wasn't really sweating. Not from the sun, anyway. He was too busy puffing out his chest, directing Dholu and Bholu with those ridiculously exaggerated gestures of his. "Come on, you two! Move it! The Sarpanch might think he's all wise with his 'caution,' but a real investigator? You gotta get close!" His voice boomed, loud enough for anyone nearby to catch, a pretty desperate attempt to sound important. He'd barely slept, his mind just churning, obsessing over the crater, all the whispers around the village, and yeah, especially Bheem's totally weird behavior. That crater wasn't just a big hole; it was his shot. His shot to finally prove he was better, smarter, way more observant than Bheem. Maybe, just maybe, he could dig up some secret that would finally put Bheem in his place. He could practically taste the praise from the villagers, maybe even some special laddoos just for him.

Dholu and Bholu, predictably, nodded so hard their round faces nearly wobbled. "Yes, Kalia Bhai!" they chirped in unison, scrambling ahead, desperate to please. They stumbled over roots, one nearly tripping into the other, but their eyes stayed glued to Kalia, waiting for his next command, totally ready to be impressed.

They finally reached the edge of the eastern forest. The trees were thicker here, the air cooler, but still heavy with that weird, alien smell. Kalia pushed through the final curtain of vines leading into the clearing, his gaze immediately sweeping across the ravaged landscape. The fallen sal tree still lay there, a giant, splintered monument to the night's impossible force. Its snapped trunk pointed accusingly at the sky. The crater, a black, steaming maw in the earth, seemed to just sit there, pulsing with a silent, malevolent energy in the stark daylight.

Kalia stopped short, his bluster deflating just a hair. Even for him, the sheer, brutal scale of the destruction was genuinely unsettling. He approached the crater's rim cautiously, peering down. "Hmmph," he grunted, trying hard to sound unimpressed, though his shoulders were subtly hunched, his neck pulled a bit into his thick shoulders. "Just a big hole. Any fool could make a big hole." But his eyes, darting frantically around the scorched earth, betrayed a deep unease. He knelt, picking up a piece of blackened dirt, crumbling it between his fingers. It felt strangely hard, almost glassy, unlike any soil from Dholakpur. "See, Dholu, Bholu? Just... burnt dirt! Nothing special!" he declared, his voice lacking its usual booming conviction, a faint tremor betraying him. He quickly dropped the dirt, wiping his fingers on his dhoti with a visible grimace.

Dholu leaned in, his nose twitching. "But Kalia Bhai, it smells... funny."

Bholu nodded vigorously, his confusion clear as day. "Yeah, funny like when Mama drops the cooking oil on the fire, but... not Mama's cooking oil funny. More... metal-funny."

Kalia scowled, slapping Bholu lightly on the head. "Quiet, you imbeciles! It's just... forest smell! And maybe a little burnt. Now, look for clues! Something unusual! Something that proves this wasn't just a boring old rock from the sky!" He kicked at a loose piece of rock near the crater's edge, sending it tumbling down the dark slope. He wanted answers, not just for the village, but for himself. He wanted evidence, something tangible, that would explain the nagging, unsettling suspicion he had about Bheem. He started meticulously searching the area, getting on his hands and knees, peering under upturned roots and behind splintered logs. He almost stepped on a small, dull, red stone that sat innocently just feet from the crater's lip – a stone that pulsed with a faint, internal glow, almost imperceptible. He missed it. His gaze was too wide, too focused on the obvious, dramatic damage.

Meanwhile, back in his hut, Bheem felt an inexplicable prickling sensation on his left wrist. The Omnitrix, hidden deep in the wooden chest, suddenly felt… warmer. A faint, almost imperceptible thrum vibrated through his skin, a soft hum that seemed to resonate deep in his bones, mirroring the one he'd felt in the forest. He pulled his hand out from under his dhoti, looking at his wrist. The dull red glow of the Omnitrix was still there, but beneath it, almost like a faint pulse, he could sense a green struggling to break through the dormant red. It was recharging. Slowly. Terribly slowly. The knowledge hit him like a jolt: it was waking up.

A mix of pure relief and intense, cold anxiety washed over him. Relief, because it wasn't broken, trapped in its useless red state forever. Anxiety, because it meant the power would return. And with power came risk, chaos, and the potential for a secret far too vast to contain. He knew Kalia was out there, poking around, his sharp, jealous eyes always looking for a weakness, a secret. Bheem started pacing his small hut, a nervous energy buzzing through him, making his skin prickle, his jaw tense. He had to be alert. He had to keep this thing hidden, at all costs. The very air seemed charged with the unspoken, the unseen threat. The world felt like it was closing in, every passing moment bringing him closer to a terrifying reveal. The thought of accidental exposure, of Dholakpur seeing him as something monstrous, made his stomach churn with a cold dread that lingered.

Later, as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in fiery hues that ironically echoed the previous night's terror, Bheem saw Kalia and his two stooges returning, dusty but triumphant. Kalia was loudly declaring to anyone who would listen that he had found "evidence" – a particularly large, oddly smooth, blackened piece of wood. "It's not just burnt wood, I tell you!" he boomed, waving it dramatically. "It's... it's alien wood! Clearly!" Villagers murmured, impressed by his confidence if not his logic, their faces a mix of wonder and lingering fear. Raju and Chutki, exchanging worried glances with Bheem from across the village square, didn't seem convinced by Kalia's theatrics, but they kept quiet. The tension in Dholakpur was palpable, a silent hum beneath the surface of daily life. Everyone was a little jumpier, a little more watchful, their eyes darting towards the crater, then to each other. And Bheem knew, with chilling certainty, that the true burden of the unseen was only just beginning. Kalia's 'discovery' was nothing. The real danger wasn't just in the crater; it was strapped to Bheem's own wrist, its green pulse slowly, inevitably, returning.