"3RD PERSON POV"
"MANY YEARS AGO"
"SOMEWHERE IN KASHMIR"
The night sky had been swallowed by thick, merciless darkness. The only light came from the raging fires consuming the village—flames leaping and twisting like angry spirits, casting eerie shadows into the sky.
Screams echoed through the air—desperate cries for help, terrified pleas for mercy. The peaceful valley had turned into a living nightmare.
Not far from the burning homes, the vast forest stood still, silent... as if watching everything unfold. Near the edge of the trees, a man, covered in blood and barely able to stay upright, knelt in the dirt.
In front of him, a young boy was crying—his small body shaking, his eyes swollen red from tears and smoke. That boy was Aravind.
"M-Mother..." the child whimpered, looking up at the wounded man—his father. His voice cracked, trembling with fear and heartbreak.
Hearing that word, the man's face twitched with pain. But his voice remained calm. Gentle.
"Don't cry, Aravind," he said, reaching out and brushing a tear from the boy's cheek. "You're a big boy now, aren't you?"
"B-But... but I—" Aravind tried to speak, but his words dissolved into sobs.
"There's no time," his father said firmly, glancing over his shoulder toward the burning village. "They're coming. We have to hurry."
He reached into his torn jacket, pulled out a small wad of bloodstained cash, and gently pushed it into Aravind's coat pocket.
With his trembling hands, Aravind's father gripped his son's small shoulders tightly. Blood stained his clothes, his face pale, yet his eyes remained steady—locked onto his son's teary gaze.
The fire crackled behind them. The screams had faded into the distance, replaced by the echoing footsteps of those drawing closer. But for this moment, it was just the two of them—father and son—on the edge of a shattered world.
His father bent down slightly, bringing his face level with Aravind's, his voice low but filled with urgency and warmth.
"Now you have to go, Aravind. From here... you'll walk this path alone," he said, each word heavy with the pain of farewell. "I'll stay behind and stop those people from following you."
Aravind's eyes widened, his lips quivering. "No... please, Papa—"
But his father didn't flinch. He smiled, faint and tired, and placed a bloodied hand on Aravind's cheek.
"Listen to me, Maheshwar… my son," he said softly, for the first time calling him by the name he had given at birth. "You have to live. You must survive."
"I don't know how you're going to do it. I know it's too much to ask from a child," he continued, voice breaking just slightly. "But from this moment on, you are alone in this world. You can't afford to trust people easily—first, understand their hearts, their intentions."
He reached out and fixed Aravind's collar with shaking fingers, as if trying to keep the boy safe in the only way he still could.
"Live however you need to. Be smart. Be strong. And never forget what happened today. These horrors—this destruction—it wasn't done by religion. No faith teaches us to harm the innocent."
His voice turned firmer now, almost angry. "This... this was the work of people blinded by greed. By power. They wear the mask of faith, but they are monsters who thrive in chaos. They are not God's people."
"God never divides his children. He never chooses sides. People do. So remember, my son… don't carry hate in your heart. Carry truth."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead briefly against Aravind's.
"You are a warrior," he whispered. "You don't fall because of pain. You rise in spite of it."
"Value your name, Aravind. Remember what it means. A lotus… blooming even in the mud. Even in darkness. Be that flower. Be something beautiful in this broken world."
As the distant shouts grew louder, nearing with every passing heartbeat, Aravind stood frozen—his small hands clenched into fists, tears streaming down his dirt-smudged cheeks. His father's hands were still on his shoulders, strong despite the blood, warm despite the cold night.
Then, in a voice calm and steady, his father continue,
"And whenever you feel lost… or afraid… remember what Lord Krishna said in the Bhagavad Gita."
He paused for a moment and then slowly recited the sacred shloka in Sanskrit:
"कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन।
मा कर्मफलहेतुर्भूर्मा ते सङ्गोऽस्त्वकर्मणि॥"
The firelight flickered in Aravind's wide, wet eyes as he sobbed out the meaning in a trembling voice, repeating what he had once learned on his father's lap:
"You have a right to perform your prescribed duties…
But you are not entitled to the fruits of your actions.
Never consider yourself the cause of the results…
And don't be attached to inaction either…"
His voice cracked at the end, choking on his own grief.
His father nodded, proud and broken at the same time.
"That's right. Remember what Krishna told Arjuna," he said, his voice soft but resolute. "Do your karma—your duty—without fear. The outcome is never in your hands. Never let the fear of failure stop you from doing what's right."
He gently wiped Aravind's tears with the edge of his sleeve.
"Don't think you're alone in this. Mahadev is always with his Maheshwar. Always."
Then he took a deep breath, steadying himself as the chaos closed in around them.
His final words came not as a plea, but a command from father to son, one soul to another:
"Don't die."
Hearing his father's words, young Aravind nodded silently, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
But then—crack—the sound of footsteps echoed from the distance.
His father's expression changed instantly. The calmness in his eyes gave way to urgency. His voice firm but filled with love.
"Remember what I told you," he said, eyes locked with Aravind's. "Don't be afraid."
Then he pointed toward the forest, his hand trembling just slightly.
"Run. Into the trees. Don't stop. Don't look back, no matter what happens. Keep running."
Aravind nodded again, this time faster, more desperate.
His father leaned forward and kissed his forehead softly—just for a second. A father's last blessing.
"Now go," he whispered.
Without another word, Aravind turned and ran—his small feet kicking up dirt and leaves as he disappeared into the dense forest. His legs were short, his steps uneven, but he didn't stop. The sound of voices and footsteps behind him only grew louder, but he remembered what his father said.
Don't look back. Don't stop.
The moonlight filtered through the tall trees, guiding his way like silver threads in the dark. Branches scratched at his arms, thorns tugged at his clothes, but he didn't care. His lungs burned. His legs ached. Still, he ran.
The voices behind him began to fade. Silence returned. He didn't know how long he had been running. Minutes? Hours? It felt like forever. But one word echoed in his mind, louder than anything else—
Run.
Suddenly—thud—his foot caught on something hidden beneath the fallen leaves. A root, maybe. Before he could react, he stumbled forward.
Crack!
His forehead struck a jagged rock. Pain exploded through his skull, white and sharp. His body collapsed to the ground, limp and bleeding.
The forest fell silent again.
Only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant howl of wind remained.
Aravind's small body lay motionless on the cold earth, moonlight casting a soft glow on his bruised face.
The boy who ran… was now still.
But the fire that had been lit in him—that would never die.
---------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------
"3RD PERSON POV"
The sun was high in the sky, its golden light pouring through the gaps between the tall trees. The forest was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves swaying gently in the breeze and the occasional chirping of birds flying above.
On the forest floor, a small figure lay motionless.
It was Aravind.
The boy's tiny body was sprawled on the earth, his clothes torn, his face dirt-streaked. A faint bruise marked the side of his forehead—evidence of his fall. No one knew how long he had been lying there. Hours, maybe more. The world had kept moving, but time had stopped for him.
The heat of the sun warmed his face. Its light danced across his closed eyelids, stirring something deep within.
Suddenly, a curious bird hopped near his head. It tilted its head, studying the boy, then began pecking lightly at his hair, trying to nudge him awake.
Aravind's face twitched.
His fingers curled slightly.
Then, with a faint groan, he slowly began to stir. His lashes fluttered, and his eyes cracked open—but the bright sunlight stung his vision. He let out a small whimper and quickly raised his little hand to shield his face.
As he moved, the bird let out a startled chirp and flapped its wings, flying off into the trees.
After a while, as his vision slowly adjusted to the sunlight, Aravind lay there in silence, staring blankly at the ground. His breath was shaky. His mind, foggy. Nothing made sense.
Where am I?
What happened?
His lips parted slightly as he murmured to himself, "Did someone… kidnap me?"
But almost immediately, he dismissed the thought.
Who would even want to kidnap a poor person like me?
There's nothing to gain.
Still confused, he slowly began to push himself up—but the moment he moved, pain shot through his body like lightning.
"Agh—! What the hell…?" he groaned, wincing as he held his side. "Why does my whole body hurt this much?"
His breathing grew heavier. Every joint ached, and his muscles felt weak, like he hadn't moved in days.
Sitting up with effort, he glanced down at his body—and froze.
His hands…
His arms…
His legs…
They were… small.
His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat.
"What the actual… what the hell is going on?"
He scrambled to examine himself more closely. His fingers trembled as he touched his face, his arms, his knees.
"No way… this—this isn't my body! This is a kid's body! My body was older, taller… stronger!"
His voice cracked in panic.
"Did someone drug me? Did some psychopath run some kind of illegal experiment on me?! Why the hell do I look like this?!"
He stared at his small hands, shaking with disbelief. His breathing quickened. For a long moment, all he could do was sit there in the middle of the forest, eyes wide, mind racing, the silence around him a stark contrast to the chaos inside.
Something was very wrong.
As Aravind sat in the forest, still trying to process his shrunken body and the pain radiating through him, something strange happened.
Ding!
A faint, mechanical chime echoed in the air—yet it wasn't coming from anywhere around him. Suddenly, right in front of his eyes, a translucent blue screen appeared, floating in the air like something out of a science fiction movie.
His eyes widened as he read the glowing text:
[Ding! Host found. Initiating bonding... Bonding... Bonding...]
Aravind blinked in disbelief. "What the… what the hell is this?!"
His voice trembled with shock. "Why does this look like… like one of those systems from those web novels?"
But before he could think any further, another message blinked onto the screen:
[Ding! Bonding complete. System detects that host's condition is critical. Generating starter pack...]
[Starter pack generated.]
[Host has received: Peak Human Condition, Danger Intuition, Genius-Level Intellect, Auto-Pilot (Unconscious Mastery), Master of Every Weapon.]
[Host's body is unstable. Applying starter pack. Please brace yourself. This will hurt.]
Aravind barely had time to react.
"What? Wait, what do you mean 'this will hur—'"
Suddenly, an unbearable pain exploded in his chest. His back arched as his entire body seized up. He screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his arms as though they were being torn apart from the inside.
His muscles trembled violently. His skin burned. His head felt like it was splitting open as a flood of memories and information poured into his mind.
His eyes rolled back.
It was as if his brain was being rewritten in real-time.
Make it stop... make it stop...
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain vanished.
Aravind gasped, drenched in sweat, lying motionless on the forest floor. His heart was pounding like a war drum, but the silence around him had returned.
[Process complete. Host condition is now stable.]
That final message faded out.
His eyes fluttered once.
Then darkness took him again, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.