Unknown location,

Jammu & Kashmir

03:00 A.M.

The forest was pitch dark, the silence shattered only by the thudding footsteps of ten commandos, running with their arms raised high in the air. Their backpacks weighed heavy on their shoulders, and rifles were clutched tightly in their hands.

“I swear, I’d rather take punishment from Upadhyay Sir. At least he’d make us stay in one place,” a commando huffed between gasps. “But Sangram Sir… he’s made us run like we’re competing for an Olympic gold! Feels like we were born running and we’re gonna die running. It’s endless!”

“This is all your damn fault, Naveen!” barked Rohit Barnwal, another commando, glaring at him. “Told you a hundred times—think before you act! But no… you act first and think later. One man’s mistake, and the whole team pays for it. And yet you never learn!”

“Anyone even remember how long we’ve been running?” a breathless voice asked from behind.

“Over two hours, I think,” Naveen muttered, panting heavily.

“I’m thirsty,” groaned Akash Chaudhary, wiping his face.

“It’s all in your head,” Ajmal Khan responded with mock seriousness. “The more you think about thirst, the more you’ll feel it. Just tell yourself you’re not thirsty.”

Smack! A slap landed on the back of Ajmal’s head.

“What the hell?! Why’d you hit me?!”

“That was in your head too,” Rohit smirked. “The more you think about the slap, the more it’ll sting. Just imagine I didn’t hit you at all.”

The others chuckled even through their exhaustion.

“Wait till this punishment is over, Barnwal,” Ajmal growled.

“I’ll be waiting with open arms, sweetheart,” Rohit winked, drawing another tired laugh from the squad.

“Shut up, idiot,” Ajmal grumbled, but a grin betrayed his annoyance.

“Look! Over there! Is that water?” one of them momentarily slowed, eyes wide with hope.

“Keep moving,” Rohit ordered sharply.

“What’s the harm in checking? We’re dying of thirst!”

“Are you out of your mind, Chaudhary?” Rohit hissed. “You wanna drink water during Sangram Sir’s punishment?!”

Their pace had slowed, but their feet kept moving on autopilot, trained to obey even when the mind faltered.

“Guys, Sangram Sir will eat us alive if he finds out. Keep walking. Remember what happened to Neeraj? Took a sip of water during a mild punishment and Sir made him go thirty hours without a drop afterward. Don’t mess with him,” Naveen warned.

“He’s right,” Ajmal nodded. “Move.”

They pushed forward, each step heavier than the last. Their bodies ached, parched and aching under the burden of rucksacks and loaded rifles.

All this… for one mistake.

Naveen had fired at the target before the given command. One premature trigger pull—and the entire squad was punished. Because in war, even a single error can mean death. And the army doesn’t gamble with lives.

Sangram had decided they all would suffer. A brutal but calculated decision. They had been running in circles through the forest for hours—no food, no water, carrying their full gear. The only instruction: keep running until the siren blows. Simple in theory. A nightmare in execution.

And then, finally—it came.

The siren wailed.

One by one, they collapsed—some on their knees, others face-down on the muddy forest floor. Chests heaving. Eyes glazed. Legs trembling.

It was over.

Or so they thought.

The ten commandos now stood in formation, their faces expressionless but drained, backs ramrod straight despite the fatigue.

Before them stood Major Sangram Singh Sanger—hands clasped behind his back, towering over them with a stern, unflinching gaze. His presence was enough to make the air heavier.

“Commandos. Rest now,” he barked, his voice booming with authority. He gave a nod to Subedar Upadhyay and turned on his heel, walking away without another glance.

But their relief was short-lived.

Instead of heading to their bunks, they were marched—not to the barracks, but to a stinking, filthy ditch filled with black sludge and rot. A punishment pit.

“Rest here,” Upadhyay said with a smug smile.

Each of them turned to glare at Naveen before descending into the filth, laying themselves down in the mud, rage and exhaustion battling in their veins.

“Do you even know why you're here?” Upadhyay asked.

“We paused when we saw water,” Ajmal groaned, struggling not to gag at the stench.

“Very good!” Upadhyay chuckled, clapping his hands.

“Told you he’d find out,” Naveen muttered. “There’s a reason they call him The Devil.”

“But how did he know?!” Akash asked, puzzled.

“There,” Naveen pointed up. “Say hi to your uncle. He’s flying above.”

A drone hovered overhead, blinking like a silent witness.

Half an hour later, they were finally allowed to leave.

Bathing became an emergency operation. The stench would linger for weeks.

Back in their barracks, they collapsed—clean but scarred.

“Somebody please get Major Sangram married,” Rohit moaned, falling onto his bed. “The man’s haunted. Roams around like a ghost in the middle of the night. Doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something?”

“Ask Naveen,” Ajmal chuckled. “He’s Sir’s biggest fanboy. Always trying to impress him.”

“Oh please!” Naveen snorted, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. “How would I know anything about his personal life?”

“Don’t you guys remember?” Akash piped up. “Last month, when Colonel Sahab threw that birthday party—his sister came down from Delhi?”

Everyone paused. Of course, they remembered.

A beautiful girl showing up at an army unit doesn’t go unnoticed.

“She was clinging to Major like a magnet,” Akash continued. “Even asked him to dance. And our dear Major just—”

He pulled his face tight and squinted his eyes like a death stare. “One look from him, and the poor girl nearly dropped her drink. After that, she stayed a hundred feet away from him the whole night.”

Laughter exploded around the room.

Naveen checked his watch. It was 5:00 A.M.

Without a word, he picked up his phone and walked out.

“Where’s he going now?” Rohit groaned. “At least get an hour’s sleep before PT!”

“You know him,” Ajmal replied. “Doesn’t start or end his day without talking to his sister.”

The moment Nandini stirred awake, her hand instinctively reached for her phone on the nightstand. A quick glance—and her heart sank a little. No calls. No messages.

She exhaled sharply, lips curling into a scowl.

"Let this boy call me today—I swear I’ll teach him a lesson," she grumbled to herself, eyes narrowing.

As if summoned by her indignation, the screen lit up with a video call. Naveen.

She answered at once, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"Finally remembered your sister, did you?"

Her voice was sharp, but the warmth underneath was impossible to miss. Her anger, like always, was a well-worn mask—one Naveen had seen through since childhood.

He chuckled, effortlessly disarming. "Forget you? I wouldn’t dare."

"Oh, save it." She crossed her arms. "Why didn’t you call yesterday? Maa was worried sick—and so was I, not that I’ll admit it again."

"I was caught up," he replied with a sheepish shrug. "Practice mission."

"Practice, huh? And? How did it go?"

"Let’s just say… not our finest hour." He winced. "We were thrashed—without even being touched."

Nandini leaned in, her expression shifting from playful to concerned. "What happened?"

He laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "What didn’t happen? Sangram Sir tore into us like we were cadets fresh out of bootcamp."

She scowled. "Why?! Just because he’s an officer doesn’t give him the right to humiliate everyone!"

"Di…" Naveen’s tone softened. "It’s not like that. He’s not doing it for ego. Everyone under his command—he sees them as his responsibility. He pushes us hard because he wants us prepared. Because out there, in the real thing, there are no second chances. No do-overs. His anger is… his way of protecting us."

There was a long pause. Nandini looked away, lips pressed tight.

"Still… One day, if I ever come face to face with this Sangram Sir of yours—I swear I’ll give him a piece of my mind. I will give him a proper scolding. What is this obsession with punishment? What kind of man enjoys torturing his men like this?"

"You?" Naveen laughed outright. "You’d scold Sangram Sir?"

"A-a-absolutely!" she stammered, trying to sound brave. "I’m not scared of your Sangram Sir!"

"Oh really?" Naveen grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Then let’s test that theory. He’s standing right behind me. Want me to hand over the phone?"

Nandini froze. The color drained from her face.

"Wait—what? No, don’t—"

"Too late," he said with a wicked grin, slowly turning the phone.

Panicked, Nandini scrambled, slapping her palm over the front camera of her phone. Her breath caught in her throat.

But as the frame shifted, Naveen's smirk faded.

He froze.

Because there - for real - Major Sangram Singh Sanger was indeed standing right behind him!

Silent. Towering. Watching.