Genesis Maker: The Indian Marvel (Rewrite)

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- Oxford, England -

- February 27, 1936 – Night -

The hotel room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting elongated shadows against the walls. Aryan stepped inside, his body moving on instinct, but his mind was still back in the alley, replaying the ambush, the words exchanged, the fear in their eyes.

Raghav followed, closing the door behind them with quiet efficiency. He didn't speak, but his presence was grounding, a silent reminder that they had survived another battle—though not the last.

Aryan exhaled and loosened his tie, rolling his shoulders as he walked to the desk by the window. The city outside was still and indifferent, unaware of the confrontation that had unfolded mere hours ago. He poured himself a glass of water, taking slow sips, letting the coolness settle the lingering fire in his veins.

Then, the system stirred.

A familiar hum echoed in his mind, subtle yet distinct. His vision flickered, and the golden script of the Meta-Creation System materialized before his eyes.

| Ding |

| Achievement Unlocked: A Long-Awaited Confrontation |

| You have finally met the British Empire on their own ground and refused to yield. Intelligence, power, and presence combined to leave an undeniable mark. |

| Reward: +50 MP |

A slow smirk formed at the corner of Aryan's lips. The system had been watching, acknowledging the significance of today—not just as a battle of words or survival, but as a declaration. He had stepped into their world and forced them to recognize him, whether they wanted to or not.

The notifications didn't stop. Another line of golden text appeared, shifting his focus.

| Ding |

| Analysis Complete: Business Holdings |

| The review of all assets under your control has been finalized. The foundation has been set. Your ventures, though in their infancy, already disrupt the status quo. |

| Achievement Unlocked: The First Step as an Entrepreneur |

| You have formally entered the world of commerce, laying the groundwork for influence beyond the battlefield. A warrior fights wars, but a true strategist shapes the future. |

| Reward: +50 MP |

Aryan leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against the glass in his hand. 100 MP in a single night. A testament to both conflict and creation. One earned through defiance, the other through preparation. After taking in account his earlier balance of 52 MPs, he now had a total MP of 152, which was enough for him to create a tier-3 dungeon portal. Although he could still collect some points in the tier-2 portal, from the remaining goblins, and the return of small monsters after culling of the powerful goblins around them, however, it wasn't enough to increase his MP balance substantially and only a higher tier portal would help in that.

Raghav finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying the weight of unasked questions. "You seem… satisfied."

Aryan met his gaze, the flicker of golden text fading from his vision. "Progress, Uncle Raghav. Tonight wasn't just about proving a point." He set the glass down, his expression unreadable. "It was about making sure they remember it."

Raghav studied him for a moment before nodding, as if he understood more than Aryan had said aloud. He walked over to the small cupboard and retrieved his own cup of tea, taking a seat by the window. "Then what's next?"

Aryan glanced at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. The British had tested him. Now, it was time to test them.

"We push forward, let's return back to India."

Days passed, carrying the weight of anticipation. Aryan had sent some letters to his close ones in advance before his departure. The letters had taken its time, but when it finally reached its destination, it set a series of events in motion.

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- Rajvanshi Estate, Calcutta -

- March 6, 1936 -

Anjali Rajvanshi sat by the window, the letter resting on her lap, though she had already read it multiple times. The ink carried the unmistakable confidence of her son, but she knew the journey he had taken was not just across continents—it was across ideals, battles, and burdens he hadn't spoken of.

Her husband, Surya Rajvanshi, stood near the entrance, giving instructions to the estate workers. Arrangements had to be made—his son was coming home after years abroad, and everything needed to be perfect. Not just for the homecoming, but because tomorrow, they would stand together as a family once again.

As night fell, the estate was alive with quiet preparation. Fresh sheets, food, and flowers—small details that seemed insignificant but carried the warmth of a home that had long awaited its heir's return.

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Sharma Residence, Calcutta

Karna Sharma read the letter aloud, his mother listening with a fond smile while his father nodded approvingly.

"He's finally back," Karna muttered, folding the letter and placing it on the table. He turned to his younger siblings, who had only heard stories of Aryan in recent years. "You'll meet him tomorrow. Just don't get in his way too much," he teased.

His mother chuckled. "And you, don't get too competitive."

Karna grinned but didn't deny it. Aryan had always been a step ahead, and while Karna admired him, a part of him had always enjoyed the challenge of keeping up.

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Natore Palace, Bengal

Shakti Nath Roy's blade cut through the air in a sharp arc, colliding with her instructor's sword. The force of the strike sent a metallic clang ringing through the courtyard. The man staggered back, clearly outmatched.

"Again," she ordered, breath steady despite the intensity of the fight.

The instructor hesitated before nodding, stepping forward for another round.

From the balcony, her mother, Lakshmi Nath Roy, watched with a knowing expression. "She won't stop until she exhausts herself," she murmured to her husband.

Ravi Nath Roy crossed his arms, observing his daughter's precise movements. "Let her. It's how she expresses her emotions."

Shakti was smiling, not out of arrogance but sheer excitement. Aryan was coming home. The frustration of his departure had dulled over the years, replaced by an eager longing. They had grown up together, their lives intertwined from the start, and now… now he was finally back where he belonged.

Her sword clashed once more, and with a swift maneuver, she disarmed her instructor. The weapon clattered to the ground.

Shakti stepped back, satisfied. "That will be enough."

She turned to the palace servants. "Make sure everything is ready. I want the best attire prepared for tomorrow."

The servants bowed and rushed off.

She took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from her brow. Tomorrow, she would see him again.

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- Calcutta Port -

- March 7, 1936 -

The air was thick with anticipation. Families bustled around, waiting for loved ones, while port workers went about their duties. The Rajvanshi family stood at the edge of the docks, their presence unmistakable.

Surya Rajvanshi's stance was firm, his gaze scanning the approaching cruise ship. Anjali, though composed, held her hands together, as if resisting the urge to fidget. Karna stood nearby, arms crossed, shifting impatiently on his feet.

A little distance away, the Natore royals waited with quiet dignity, but Shakti was anything but calm. Though she held herself with royal poise, her fingers lightly tapped against her wrist in a rare display of impatience.

The ship slowed as It neared the dock, and a hush fell over the gathered crowd. The moment they had all been waiting for had arrived. Aryan Rajvanshi was home.

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The ship had finally docked.

Aryan stepped off the gangway, his gaze sweeping over the waiting crowd. Familiar faces, emotions laid bare, and the unmistakable warmth of home filled the air. Behind him, Raghav followed, ever the silent but dependable presence. The crowd stirred the moment they spotted him, and before he could take another step forward, a shower of flower petals rained down upon him.

His mother, Anjali Rajvanshi, stood at the forefront, holding an aarti thali. The flickering flame of the diya cast a golden glow on her face as she stepped forward, her eyes shining with both joy and relief. She circled the thali around him in a slow, practiced motion before placing a red tilak on his forehead.

"Welcome home, my son," she whispered, her voice carrying the emotions she had kept bottled up for too long.

His father, Surya Rajvanshi, stood beside her, his stance proud and unyielding, yet his eyes softened as he placed a firm hand on Aryan's shoulder. "You've done well, Aryan. It is good to have you back."

Aryan bent down, touching both their feet. "It's good to be back," he said sincerely.

Before he could straighten up fully, another familiar voice rang out. "What? No special welcome for your best friend?"

Aryan turned to find Karna Sharma grinning at him, his family standing just behind him. Karna's parents, who had always treated him like their own, smiled warmly.

Aryan wasted no time in touching their feet as well, receiving their blessings. Karna, never one for excessive sentiment, clapped him on the back. "Took you long enough."

"I had some business to settle first," Aryan replied with a smirk.

As the two old friends exchanged words, Aryan sensed another presence approaching. He turned, his eyes immediately locking onto the approaching Natore royal family.

And then he saw her.

Shakti Nath Roy.

Time seemed to slow for a brief moment. She was dressed in an elegant yet simple traditional outfit, her long black hair cascading over one shoulder. Her green eyes, sharp yet expressive, met his with a quiet intensity. There was a grace to her stance, an air of royalty she carried effortlessly, yet beneath that poised exterior, there was something undeniably familiar.

She had always been beautiful, but now… now she was breathtaking. The resemblance to Aishwarya Rai was almost uncanny. Aryan found himself momentarily mesmerized before quickly snapping back to reality.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, Shakti. How are you?"

Her expression didn't waver, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "After all this time, after all these years apart, all you have to say to me is Hey, how are you?"

Aryan hesitated, sensing the weight of her words.

"Do you even know how much I missed you?" she continued, her voice still carrying the poise of a royal, but her eyes—those striking green eyes—betrayed a depth of emotion she rarely displayed in public.

And then, before he could respond, she stepped forward and hugged him. Tight.

The warmth of her embrace caught him off guard, but what truly made his heart clench was the whisper only he could hear.

"If you ever leave me behind like this again, I will teach you a very harsh lesson," she murmured.

A shiver ran down his spine—not out of fear, but from the sheer certainty in her words. And yet, at the same time, there was a warmth spreading through him, something deep and unspoken. He awkwardly returned the hug, unsure whether to be relieved or terrified.

As he pulled back slightly, he noticed the faint glimmer of a tear in her eyes. It stirred something in him, a quiet vow forming in the depths of his heart. He had regrets in his past life—people he had failed, emotions he had ignored. But this time, he wouldn't make the same mistakes.

He wouldn't let her feel lonely again.

Before the moment could linger any longer, a voice cut through their quiet exchange.

"Now, now, Shakti, give the boy some breathing space," Lakshmi Nath Roy said, a knowing smile on her lips.

Her husband, Ravi Nath Roy, chuckled. "He's just arrived; at least welcome him properly before making threats."

Shakti huffed but stepped back with a graceful nod.

Aryan quickly touched Lakshmi and Ravi's feet, receiving their blessings. "It's good to see you both again," he said respectfully.

Lakshmi smiled warmly. "You are always welcome here, Aryan. You are as much a son to us as you are to your parents."

Ravi nodded in agreement. "And we expect great things from you, just as we always have."

As the formalities ended, Aryan took a deep breath, glancing around at the people surrounding him. His family, his friends, the people who had been a part of his life before he had left for America.

He was finally home.

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