A/N: - Can I expect 50 votes in this chapter? Pls guys, it would mean the world 🥹❤️

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Kiaan

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A crowd of thousands welcomed my opponent and me with the loudest cheers possible. For them, it was going to be a scenic view, while for us, there was going to be a bloodbath. While it was purely adrenaline, dopamine for the crowd, who surely had put bets on us already, for us, it was going to be a battle for our lives.

The digital hoarding closer to the race track displayed a grim reaper wearing a black cape and skull mask holding a scythe, a farming tool, used to harvest souls. On each side of the Grim Reaper on the hoarding, both my opponent's and my race names appeared.

The Magician Vs The Beast

I descended the stairs of the arena, which led to the track, wearing my full race gear, the mask that concealed my identity from the world, and my helmet tucked under my arm. For the world, I was only Kiaan Chauhan, but for this crowd, I was known as the merciless monster, who had been undefeated till now.

This was an illegal site, where people gambled on others. You win, your price gets higher. I was their top-rated rider, and I hadn't lost a single match, neither against a player nor against death. And tonight, it wasn't beast against the magician, it was beast against death, and the magician was simply to make the ride exciting.

My ride, the actual beast, the Lamborghini Aventador, waited for me.

The track was closer now, only a few seconds away, as I eventually stepped down from the last step. But just then, I noticed my four friends, wearing masks, just like the crowd. Since it was an illegal site, the identities of even the crowd were kept hidden, and the people who wanted to watch didn't get the tickets to such places easily.

"You have lost your mind," Namit said angrily, agitated that I was doing this again. He and my other friends were always against my quest to defeat death. But this was how I gained control. This was how I always took back control of my life and everyone else's.

Ignoring him, I kept walking ahead.

"Come on, man, don't do this," Arjun yelled out this time. He was concerned but mostly angry.

I ignored his voice as well.

"Do you even think of her? What's her fault that you are putting her through this shit?"

Dhruv was following me closely, whispering the name of my salvation, my damnation, reminding me what I did to her, how effortlessly I broke her. I had lost control with her, and I was going to gain it now.

Dhruv stopped following me just like Arjun and Namit had. He had realized nothing could stop me now. If her mention didn't do any good, then nothing could.

Just a meter away from the track, Hredhaan stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at me. I was ready for his fruitless effort to stop me as well.

But I wasn't expecting him to say, "When you come back this time, make sure you are human too and not just a beast."

For a moment, his words caught me off guard, and I stood there while he walked away to where our other three friends were. However, my attention was brought back to reality when the crowd roared in excitement, screaming The Beast while some screamed for The Magician.

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The magician and I stood closer to our respective cars. Even behind the mask, I could tell this magician held a smug expression on his features, mocking me. He knew me, the real me, the person behind the mask I was. His every nod, every eye contact, every look made it very obvious that he knew me well, and was over confident he was writing me a death sentence tonight. 

I knew him, too, from the very first time he stepped into the arena years ago, but I never let it be obvious. Actually, I knew almost everyone I had ever raced against, but out of the arena never cared about them. 

Tonight's match was different, though; it was a little personal. Because this magician who had challenged the Beast tonight wasn't anyone else but Ian Marshall, the man who dared to hurt my wife, who tried flirting with her at the party. He was the culprit who brought nightroot herbs to the party to hurt my wife. And I for sure knew that he was the one responsible for the attack on our house.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Grand Arena! The racers are now taking their positions on the track. This is the moment we have all been waiting for!" The commentator announced over the mike.

"The reaper is prepared to pull someone out of the pit of death. But who will it be?" He took a pause, making his voice low.

"Will it be the magician, no one could ever outsmart, or the beast...no one could ever defeat."

"The beast has defeated death more times than anyone could imagine... So tonight, we can only hope he is gentle with the magician and shows him some mercy," The second commentator said.

"It's time for the beast's soul to be taken out..." 

Someone from the crowd shouted. I noticed a woman sitting in the front row, reserved for the families and close ones of the racers. It was apparent she was Ian's wife even when her face was covered with a mask. Too bad, she was to be turned into a widow tonight.

Some of the people wanted my soul to be taken out, but they didn't know I didn't have an actual soul, just a shadow in its place. Because if I had one, I wouldn't have been there making thousands a witness of my other victory against death. If I had a soul, I wouldn't have left my wife yearning for me as if she didn't matter.

We both sat in our respective cars. Countdown displayed over the seven-foot-tall digital hoarding. Women on each side stood with checkered flags to give us a go-ahead when the time stopped at zero on the hoarding.

I looked to my left at Ian and found him already staring at me. Suddenly, I was reminded of his evil smirk at my wife at the party. I gripped the steering tighter than usual. He gave me a curt nod, and I nodded back at him for one last time before our eyes were glued to the screen. Our engines roared like monsters ready to be unleashed for the final battle of life.

The crowd shouted the countdown together, thrilled to watch the death of someone. Lives didn't matter to any of them sitting in the arena because if it did they wouldn't have been sitting there, following this death race as if they were addicted to it like drugs.

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

The go-ahead was given with the flags waved in front of our cars. The leashes on those monsters were dropped, and there was a loud roar. Ian's car was the first to get the momentum as it ignited like a rocket, leaving scars on the track. I revved the engine, and my car growled loudly. I was restraining my beast for a moment longer before I put my foot on the accelerator, catching up to the man I would write a death sentence against.

He drove straight on the route while I followed. The crowd and their noise quieted down the farther we moved on the track. Seven seconds and my car was beside Ian's now. I revved the engine again, making him realize where I was. I had caught his attention as he glanced at me to his left. He steered his car to the left and hit mine with his, causing my car to hit the rock hill beside. 

The track was on a narrow path and had multiple sharp inclines. Soon, the track would meet the path, where on the other side, there would be a sixty-foot cliff. No one had ever survived that fall of sixty feet. That was why the death races always took place there, because that was the whole point. Only one was to come out of it alive; the other had to die. 

And if one of them didn't die by any chance, the commentators shot the one who got fewer votes from the audience. People didn't gather for the death race to watch the racers survive; they gathered there to watch one die. 

They gambled on who would die and not who would survive. They thrived on others' deaths while I and the other racers like me fed on the control this death race gave us.

Ian and I drove side by side. I let him hit my car as many times as he wanted. I let him feel he was in control while the truth was far-fetched. 

You know that's the beauty of control. 

It takes only a second for it to slip out of your hands. Control's loyalty had always been in question. One moment you would feel you are the one ruling, the very next moment you find yourself kneeling. But this race wasn't anything about kneeling; this was all about who would dive deep into the cliff.

A narrow tunnel came into view, filled with small waterfalls, which were going to make our drive more difficult than it already was. Ian glanced at me, and I glanced back before we ignited the engines of our respective rides, making them drive into the tunnel at once. 

The moment our vehicles rushed through the narrowest tunnel someone had ever driven in, our cars collided side by side, with no space for either of our vehicles to breathe. The rock walls scratched the sides of our cars as we kept driving, increasing the pace. The tires skidded, and sparks flew from the tires, touching the wet floor harshly.

The water on my car reduced visibility. I tried the windshield wipers, but the stream of those waterfalls on my car was heavy, strong, brutal. But it didn't lessen my speed. 

Even when nothing much was visible, I knew that route by heart. I steered right quite strongly for Ian's car to have a strong impact before my vehicle was out of that mile-long tunnel first. 

The number of sharp turns on the road had increased. If you think for even a second which side to move, you take a nosedive deep into the cliff with your beast ride. There wasn't a second to waste, not even a microsecond. Ian's car was approaching closer, and finally, the cliff on the right side also came into view. The path was so narrow that there was no way to drive two cars side by side on that path.

The finish line wasn't far from that cliff, as we could now hear the noise of the crowd, the gunshots fired in celebration. Surely they could see us on the digital screen all this time, praying for the beast to taste death.

Ian tried taking his vehicle ahead, but I didn't let him. There wasn't any way he would now be able to do that with that steep and narrow path. 

I had watched him race, I had observed him far too many times to know how he functioned on the tracks. He always hid himself like a magician, letting the two rival cars take on each other and then passing alone to the finish line, leaving the others behind. But that was his tactic in group races. This was different. 

He didn't have any other rivals to fuel who would take the bait and do the bad deed for him. It was only him and me. And Ian Marshall wasn't an attacker. If he had been, he wouldn't have been tagged as a magician but a beast instead.

It was the last few seconds, and the finish line was very much in my vicinity. If none of us took that fall into the cliff, I knew there would be war. Why? Because the audience would vote for my death, and I wouldn't go down without a brutal fight.

It was time I played my move. I steered my car to the left sharply, such that my car tilted, putting half of its weight on the track and the other half on the rock wall. Sparks flew like firecrackers from the way the tires screeched through the bumpy rock wall. 

Ian thought he had found a way to take his vehicle ahead, not realizing I had put myself in such a dangerous situation intentionally. He took the bait, accelerated his vehicle, and skidded it, thinking the path wasn't narrow enough. 

Just when his car was close enough, I steered right harshly. My car was back on the track, hitting his car with great impact, making his car take that huge blow as it flipped until it hung on the edge of the cliff. There were screams from the crowd and then a quiet silence when his car eventually took him down the sixty-foot-deep cliff.

I put my foot on the accelerator as I crossed the finish line. The crowd hollered in joy now. They had gotten the death of someone at least, so what if it wasn't me? They didn't care as long as someone died.

Me: 3501
Death: 0

I could feel the rage of death, and I knew it would come again for me with another vendetta, another route, making another man its medium to take my soul.

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I walked out of my car, victorious again, yet it didn't feel like a win. Even when alive, it felt like I wasn't. I had defeated death multiple times, and every time I felt I gained more control, every time it felt good to be able to do that. But this time it didn't. Something was amiss. Someone died, there was a bloodbath, yet it made me feel numb and not satisfied.

And then I heard the screaming from the same woman as before. 

I looked around and found out it was Ian's wife, screaming, wailing in pain as she sat defeated on the ground. Her eyes carried the pain of losing her husband. Her mask might have covered her face, but not her eyes that carried the grief of losing the man she loved. Her cries bothered me, her tears troubled me, her pain reminded me of someone else's pain, someone who mattered to me, someone who chose me despite me hurting her.

The death of my opponent never bothered me before. But it was different this time. I had Tara in my life this time.

I needed her, fuck! I wanted her so that I could breathe, so that I could stay alive, I wanted her all to myself to stay sane. But I pushed her away. I hurt her terribly this time, and now there was no going back. Unfortunately, Hredhaan's curse did come true. This time, I didn't return just as a beast but as a human too.

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Author

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No one is a born beast, and neither was Kiaan. He was the gentlest of all, the caregiver, the sacrificing soul who gave everyone a piece of him until there was nothing left to give. 

He lightened the lives of others, not realizing he was being consumed by the darkness in the process. 

He gave a part of his soul to those he cared for and was left with a dark shadow in place of the soul. And that turned him into a beast. But there was a time when he didn't know what a beast was, when he was just a human with hope and too much love to give.

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Flashback

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It was another quiet day at the Kapoor mansion. A house filled with silence and sadness. Dharmesh Kapoor, the strict businessman, was getting ready to leave for a conference in another country. His daughter, Smita, was still asleep because the effect of her sleeping pills had not worn off. And her husband, Ashok Chauhan, was busy instructing the staff about how to take care of the mansion and his son Kiaan while he, Dharmesh, and Smita would be away for three days.

Kiaan, a nine-year-old boy, was the only light in that house. But no one seemed to notice him. 

A few years ago, when an evil mafia killed Dharmesh's other daughter Seema, and her husband, Mahesh, the family had been left broken. Smita fell into depression after her sister's death. Seema's daughter Dhriti, went missing without a trace, and her son Dhruv, was sent to India for safety. In all this, the one left ignored and unloved was Kiaan. Though he never said much, even he carried the pain of being abandoned in his small heart.

Kiaan, as usual, had woken up early. He was on the back lawn, kicking his football across the grass. 

So what if he was ignored? 

He never let it poison his heart. He never held hurtful feelings towards his family. He loved them, and deep inside he believed that one day... when the curtain of sadness was finally lifted... he would receive the warmth he had always been craving.

But then, the sound of car horns and engines broke the morning silence. Kiaan frowned. 

It was far too early for anyone to be leaving for work. Curious, he ran towards the entrance. And there, he saw the cars rolling out of the mansion gates. In the backseat of one car, his mother sat quietly. Her eyes... empty, hollow, lifeless. Kiaan's heart dropped. He watched them all leave without him. And just like every other time, he felt something break inside him.

'They left me. Again.' That was his very first thought.

The entire day, Kiaan stayed locked inside his bedroom. He had no wish to play, no wish to eat, not even to talk to the only friend he had in London: Prince Hredhaan Rajvansh. He simply lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

His door was knocked for the third time since he had locked himself in. Kiaan assumed it was the staff again, bringing food for him. From inside, he shouted that he didn't want anything to eat. But then, a gentle voice replied that it wasn't about food this time. It was about a letter.

Someone had sent Kiaan a letter.

Kiaan froze. 

No one had ever written him a letter before. For a moment, he thought it was just a trick to make him open the door. Still, curiosity stirred inside him. Slowly, carefully, he got up from the bed and walked towards the door. 

When he opened the door, the staff stood there quietly, holding an envelope in their hands. She gave it to him, then softly reminded him to eat something so that he wouldn't fall sick. And with that, she left him standing there alone, with a letter that seemed too strange to be true.

Kiaan tore open the envelope. Inside, he found a pen. It wasn't just any pen; it was the one he had lost two days ago. The pen his father had gifted him was the only gift he had ever truly treasured. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at it in disbelief. But that wasn't all. Along with the pen... There was a letter. Without wasting a second, Kiaan opened it, eager to know what it said.

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That was all the letter said. It neither had a name nor any signature. Just a kind gesture of returning his pen... and a gentle reminder to keep smiling. For the first time in days, Kiaan's lips curved into a genuine smile. It was a smile that came straight from his heart.

He felt lighter, elated, excited as if someone, somewhere, truly cared for him. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more curious he became.

Who had written this letter?

Who had gone through the trouble of finding his pen, of writing to him with so many spelling mistakes, but with so much thoughtfulness?

Kiaan made a silent promise to himself that day that he would find this person. But first, he decided to write back.

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And that's how, ladies and gentlemen, Kiaan's heart was stolen🥹

He didn't just receive a pen that day, he gave the access of his heart to this little trouble 🥹

Hi Lovelies,

I hope you all are doing well. 🥹

I finally portrayed the race Kiaan keeps going to ever since the first book of the series. He doesn't race for the thrill of it; he races to keep himself sane, but the keys to his sanity lie in the hands of his wife. 🥹

What do you all think would happen now? 🤔

Will Kiaan go back to Simran, or will he still not go to her and let her suffer alone? 🤔

What do you all think Simran would do now? 🤔

Do share your views about the chapter. It would mean a lot to me. ❤️

P.S -> The next update will either come on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Thanks,

Shrishtee