Almost a million thoughts sprouted in an instant. Is he a mugger? What does he mean by 'game of fate'? Maybe, he is a shady cultist. Nah, that's too stupid.

Before I knew, the blade was retracted and my confused self shoved under the rain. I finally got a good look at my 'mugger'. His right hand was playing with what looked like a Rampuri knife, while his other hand was shifting through the dyed white hair plastered to his forehead. In stark contrast, he donned a black sweatshirt and a pair of khakis. His pursed lips would have made a convincingly serious face if not for the palpable disdain.

I balled my hands and raised them, my eyes not leaving him. Shit! What was I thinking? He is clearly more experienced than me and probably more or equally athletic. I should have run, my backpack could have saved me from attacks from the back. Should I call for help, but the chances of anyone listening under the sound of heavy rain pounding against asphalt and thunder were minimal. I have to stall until someone comes by.

"You are a fighter! Not a bad start. But, showing fighting spirit isn't enough to be a member of our clan." Somehow he was impressed by my idiocracy.

He rushed towards me and swung the knife. I immediately backed away and dodged the slash. It was slower than expected but he was clearly proficient in what he was doing. My visibility was dampened by the water on my glasses and I had to be careful with my movements, otherwise, I would slip.

My opponent snorted, "don't worry about stalling me, no one is going to interrupt us." What does he mean by that? Surely, someone is going to pass by.

He raised his blade again, but this time it was close to his chest with legs locked in a proper stance. A flurry of attacks followed. I instinctively raised my hands and backed away as quickly as I could. "Oops! The zipper got me... like always."

I immediately felt my belly, exposed to the elements. He had managed to strike and cut open a huge diagonal tear in the fabric. What stopped him was the simple zip, which was no longer in a usable state. "H-hey, I don't have any money, I am just a poor student. You will get nothing from me. Can you please stop, can't we just talk this out?" My heart was on the verge of bursting out of ribcage. I raised my hands in surrender and spoke whatever words I could gather towards my assailant which now I could only see as a silhouette.

"Why would I need your money? Keep those pennies with you, maybe they will help you get into that engineering college of yours." What are his intentions? He knows way too much about me. If he wanted to kill me, he could have done that quite a long time ago. Slice my throat open and I will drown in my own blood, soundlessly. I shuddered at the mental image the thought produced.

Suddenly a bright neon blue light appeared in my vision. It felt almost real as if someone had etched it onto my eyes. The growing point of the line inched closer and I immediately got out of its way and in the gap of a millisecond, I felt my hoodie getting ripped again. More neon lines followed and I successfully dodged them. All of this happened in a matter of a few seconds.

"Tch! You are a fast learner it seems. Well, let's see how you survive this." More lines followed after that statement, and this time they were faster. I hardly escaped them, each cut opening my skin and cloth. One of them morphed into a circle and it became larger and larger. I kept my eyes open until the circle grew so large that it almost blinded me. This is it, this is where I die.

I waited for a second, two seconds then three seconds, but the end didn't come. "You could have killed him Skull. Sorry, my bad, you were going to kill him." An alarmingly scary feminine voice pulled me back to reality. I meekly opened my eyes and noticed the tapering end of the knife an inch away from my glasses.

"But I didn't." The dude named Skull replied nonchalantly and retracted his knife. "You didn't kill him because I stopped you. Let's go." A cold object was pressed into my palm, "take this with you, it will be useful."

"B...but the candidate," Skull tried to protest as he was being dragged away, "our job was only to make contact, and you did way more than that. John is going to give you a nice bonus for this exceptional work. That's why I don't like doing missions with you...." The rant continued, but by now they were too far away for me to listen.

I somehow made it into my apartment. I tore the bloodied shredded hoodie, climbed out of my pants, and stumbled into the bathroom. I turned the hot shower on and sat right below it. Warm water seeped into my wounds and stung, causing my pain to rise exponentially, but that was the best way I could clean them. I bit my lower lip and endured the pain, till it subsided after a few minutes.

It was only then I noticed the ring in my hand. Why did that girl give this to me? I had been holding on to it tight enough that the scaley pattern on it was etched onto my palm. The pattern was designed with quite a lot of thought and skill, despite its jet black color, the scales were fairly visible. I didn't really think much and just slid it onto the index finger of my left hand, it was too good to be disposed of as waste.

I was back in my bed, staring at the morose ceiling fan. It did its job as it was told, never bothered, never tired unlike me. I had disposed of my beloved hoodie before uncle or aunt discovered and Ishan was sleeping in his room. My head was dizzy, and my appetite had long died. The entire day was... unreal, no, crazy. It was too real but still, somehow my wounds had disappeared without a trace, but they were there, I could still feel the pain, see the blood trailing down my torso, all of it was definitely real. But the fight, I still couldn't wrap my head around it, those blue 'things' I saw, they were trailing the blade's path, no the blade was trailing their path. It was as if I could almost predict the next attack. Maybe, I am hallucinating, should I go see a doctor.

I tore my sight away from the fan and checked the ring on my finger, still present, glinting under the full moonlight. Yep, everything was real.

DAY 3

"Robin, are you feeling well?"

"Huh!" I stopped staring at the coffee and looked at my aunt's worried face. Her dark circles made her look a decade older than she was. I put on a dismissive smile," nothing's wrong, see all fit and dandy." She didn't seem fully convinced, "well, if you say so," saying that, she sunk into a chair at the dining table and flipped through the week-old newspaper.

Ishan was back with his parents, they came to pick him up an hour ago, he hadn't spoken a word to me since the incident. I remember him standing at the doorway looking at me with blank eyes as if his soul was separated from his body. He was still blaming himself and I understood the feeling quite well. Maybe I should talk to him next time.

With that thought, I left the table, the cup in my hand, its broken rim touching my chaffed lips when I suddenly stopped myself. I had unconsciously opened the glass sliding door to the balcony. Isn't this your favorite place in the entire fricking building Robin, what are you so scared of?

No loud tenents, a fresh breeze, no snotty kids playing cricket, and a nice Sunday morning, what else did I need. I took in a deep breath and stepped out. My heartbeat relaxed and coffee overtook my dry tastebuds, fake grass tickled my soles. My posture was about to relax when I realized I had stepped on something, I moved my feet slowly and what I saw filled me with dread to the brim.

I immediately backed away and shut the door so fast that it elicited a squeal from my aunt. I dropped the cup on the floor and stormed into my room. "Robin, what do you --" Ignoring her angry words I slammed the door and locked myself... or maybe the world around me.

That shit was everywhere, as a bookmark in my novel, inside my backpack, below my bed, and now even on my phone. No matter how much I tried to escape, it would come back. I tried to run, but that plan failed, now the only option I had was to fight. I clicked on the icon, and there it was the first message, from an unknown number. The title read 'Welcome To The Game Of Fate.' The message was,

OBJECTIVE: Stab Ruby with the intent to kill

PENALTY ON FAILURE TO COMPLY: Ishan's death

"Ishan's death, wh-what is this even supposed to mean. And how do I stab a Ruby, I don't even own one."

I knocked on my forehead and took a breather. "Okay, let's think about it."

'Welcome to the game of fate,' this was not mentioned before, and isn't this what that Skull dude said? Also, the previous message mentioned me as a participant. So this indeed is some sort of a game. They definitely know more than me, maybe they are participants too, I wish I can meet them again, I thought as I looked at my mysterious ring, scratch that idea, I don't want to die.

I checked my phone and dialed the strange number, "the number you are trying to call, is currently out of network coverage area..." I listened to the automatic prerecorded response, going on in a loop, first in Marathi, then Hindi, and finally followed by English. I disconnected the call and spoke to myself, "seems pretty normal. The number is out of coverage area, huh," I mulled as I tapped the phone against my chin, "well at least it exists. So, humans are running this shit, and I doubt this is a one-man show." I was strangely relieved knowing that I wasn't haunted or messed with some paranormal being, though it didn't make the situation any better.

I paced around the room, thinking about the next best step, but I had hit a dead-end quite early on. Ruby most likely refers to someone's name, a girl, if it's a gemstone then 'a' should have been placed before Ruby. But I don't really know anyone with that name, maybe it's a pet's name...

I finally decided to stop, this is going to be more difficult than expected. But why would someone go through so much trouble just to throw an unsolvable riddle on my face? Wait, why am I thinking about it as a riddle?

The answer to that question was if it was something more direct than a riddle, then the reason for Isha's near-death experience would be me. And I was not ready to accept that reality, it has to be an accident.

I decided to step out, staring at four bland walls all day wouldn't bring any results anyway.

"Didn't you say, you were sick?" I was standing in front of the shoe rack, one hand resting on the door while the other struggling to get my heel to fit into the second-hand camo patterned sneakers when aunt decided to drop in. The excuse behind my refusal from leaving the room was 'feeling sick,' obviously a lie.

A nervous smile was instantly summoned on my face. A weak defense against her folded arms, stiff posture, and intimidating eyes gazing at me through reading glasses."Um... I am feeling better now, I will be back before dinner," I shouted and ran off to the elevator.