Aryanvaat's stomach gurgled—not from hunger, but from something very different. Something that felt like it was trying to reorganize his insides into a completely new configuration.
It felt like an elephant had kicked over a cauldron inside his gut. The sensation wasn't painful exactly, but it was present—overwhelming and undeniable, like his body had suddenly become a construction site and someone had just activated all the machinery at once. He clutched his belly, eyes wide as he stumbled backward a few steps, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"Oi, what's crawling inside me?!" His voice cracked with panic. "Did that potion have bugs?! Is this how cultivation starts?! Please tell me I'm not going to explode!"
His voice echoed across the small courtyard, bouncing off the clay walls of their modest home. But only the birds and rustling leaves replied—nature apparently had no answers for a six-year-old experiencing his first taste of chakra circulation.
And, of course—
[SYSTEM]:
"Relax, gastrointestinal prodigy. That's just your body starting to circulate chakra. For the first time in your entire existence. Your spiritual pathways are waking up after six years of being deader than a graveyard ghost. Try not to pass out from success. Or do—I've got nothing but time."
Aryanvaat froze mid-stumble, his small frame going rigid.
"You mean... it worked?! I'm really not chakra-deficient anymore?! This is real?!"
[SYSTEM]:
"Correct. The potion didn't just fix your chakra deficiency—it obliterated it like it was never there. You also got +10 Chakra stat points as a bonus, which is mathematically impossible and frankly gives me an existential crisis. Side effects may include sudden breakthroughs, divine jealousy, accidental arson, and becoming so overpowered that you'll need to apologize to the universe for existing."
Aryanvaat's mind reeled. "Wait—Stat points can be changed with potions?! Since when is that a thing?!"
[SYSTEM]:
"Since never. Stat points are permanent once chosen. That was supposed to be law. Universal law. The foundation of how Systems work. I have no idea how this happened. That wasn't even a mortal-grade item. That wasn't even a celestial-grade item. It was a divine-tier elixir—something only top-tier cultivators use to survive heavenly tribulations and ascend to new realms. The kind of thing that should require decades of cultivation and probably your soul as collateral. And you got it... because someone dropped it."
Aryanvaat blinked slowly. He looked at his tiny, six-year-old hands—so small they made even a child's objects look enormous. Then he looked up at the sky, where clouds drifted peacefully, unaware that they'd just been accessories to cosmic incompetence.
"...Do I thank the heavens or apologize?"
[SYSTEM]:
"Maybe apologize. Loudly. And with fireworks. And a formal letter. Honestly, just grovel a little. The universe seems to enjoy that."
He took a deep breath, centering himself. His body felt light, tingly, like something had fundamentally shifted inside him. Like someone had just given permission to a locked door, and now all the rooms inside him were opening one by one. He wasn't sure what chakra was supposed to feel like—the meditation under waterfalls had never worked, so he had nothing to compare it to—but if this was it? The warmth spreading through his limbs, the gentle hum in his chest, the sense that power was coiling inside him like a spring waiting to release?
He liked it. He liked it a lot.
Suddenly, a slurred voice cut through the early morning breeze like a dull knife.
"Aryan! Are ya talkin' to yer imaginary fairy again, ya little weirdo?"
Ganpath stumbled into the courtyard with all the grace of a collection of walking sticks tied together by thread. His gourd—never far from his person—swung at his hip like a pendulum. His nose was red, his feet were bare, and his eyes were the special kind of bleary that comes from waking up in unusual places after consuming unusual amounts of alcohol.
He squinted at the glowing window hovering in front of Aryanvaat.
"Wait a minute... is that a hic~—a sta~ts scre~en? Holy hangover! You got a floating screen?! A System window?! How in the name of every drunk deity did you manage that?!"
Aryanvaat's eyes widened. "Y-Yeah! But only I can see it, so you shouldn't be—I mean, it's invisible unless you're—"
Ganpath's eyes narrowed with sudden, terrible clarity. It was the kind of clarity that suggested his brain was shifting into gear beneath the perpetual haze of alcohol.
"Don't lie to me, boy. I used to have one too! Damn thing ran off twenty years ago when I hit peak intelligence and lost my marbles like they were loose change. Ain't you listen to the stories? I was the smartest man in three provinces until my own knowledge drove me insane."
Aryanvaat's jaw dropped.
"...Wait, you had a System?!"
[SYSTEM]:
"He speaks the truth. Ganpath: former user. All stat points allocated to Intelligence. Went completely and utterly mad by the accumulation of knowledge. Record-holder for fastest burnout in System history—four months from brilliant scholar to functional alcoholic. Frankly, I still have PTSD from his vocabulary. The man could recite philosophy in seventeen languages while simultaneously drunk."
Ganpath blinked at the window, then back at Aryanvaat, then at the window again. Recognition flickered across his weathered face.
"I can smell it in m' knees, Aryan..." He swayed slightly, catching himself on a nearby post. "Yer gonna be—hic—a full-blown cultivator or a sentient cabbage, I can't quite tell from here... Listen, sit down, yeah, cross yer legs... or was it arms? Nah, legs definitely... Breathe! Real deep—take in the air! Or was it dirt? I used to sniff dirt... pretty sure that helped with channeling once... or maybe that was mushrooms. Hard to remember when you're this drunk."
Aryanvaat blinked at his clearly-intoxicated-yet-apparently-formerly-brilliant grandmaster, then obeyed. What else was he going to do? He sat down on the dusty courtyard floor, closed his mouth to steady his breathing, and opened his eyes wide—assuming this was meditation posture.
"I'm meditating with eyes open," he announced to no one in particular.
[SYSTEM]:
"That's... not how it's done. Meditation typically involves closing your eyes and entering an introspective state. Why are you—"
Before the System could finish its complaint, a new window shimmered to life in front of him, bright and demanding attention:
[SKILL GAINED: INSIGHT (LVL 1)]
— Enables detection of chakra levels in individuals up to one realm higher.
(Current limit: 2nd Chakra Realm.)
[SYSTEM]:
"...WHAT. You just gained a skill by meditating incorrectly. What even ARE you?! This defies every principle of how cultivation is supposed to work! This is like gaining strength by refusing to exercise!"
Aryanvaat stared at the notification, a small grin spreading across his face.
"Cool! I got a skill by doing the wrong thing! What if I meditate while standing on one leg next?! Or hanging upside down from a tree?!"
[SYSTEM]:
"Why not just juggle flaming swords while you're at it, you absolute divine glitch?! Just—stay seated. Don't do anything else. Don't touch anything. Don't breathe strangely. Just exist without breaking reality for five consecutive minutes!"
Just then—the sky darkened.
Not the normal darkening of evening or the approach of monsoon clouds. This was different. This was the kind of darkness that came with intent. A sharp wind cut through the trees like an invisible blade, and clouds twisted overhead like angry serpents, coiling and uncoiling with supernatural fury. A divine presence descended upon the world like a hammer striking an anvil, so heavy and overwhelming that even the air seemed to crack under the weight of it.
The temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant.
Far above, sitting on a throne of thunderclouds that blazed with electrical fury, a being of incomprehensible power stared down at the small courtyard with eyes that held the rage of a thousand storms.
Indra. The Lord of Thunder. King of Gods. Wielder of Thunderbolt. Destroyer of obstacles. And at this precise moment, profoundly, cosmically furious.
INDRA (seething, voice like grinding continents):
"There he is. The child who dared max out a stat. The second one I've encountered in three centuries. The universe really is testing my patience today."
He clenched his fist, and lightning coiled around his arm like serpents made of pure electrical rage.
INDRA:
"I smote the last one personally. Turned him to ash and scattered him across five kingdoms. I will do the same to this pathetic orphan."
He raised his palm, and thunder roared like a thousand drums playing in perfect, apocalyptic harmony. A bolt of divine lightning crackled to life in his grip, bright enough to blind the sun itself, hot enough to melt mountains. The power contained in that single strike was enough to level mountains and boil oceans.
INDRA:
"Let balance be restored to this realm. Let no mortal dare to think they can break the rules of cultivation. Let—"
But before he could finish his divine decree, Grandpa Ganpath's voice cut through the tension like a drunk cutting through a philosophy lecture:
"...Is it just me, or is the sky looking cranky? Real cranky. Like my third wife on a Tuesday."
Aryanvaat's enhanced Insight skill activated automatically, detecting the divine chakra descending from above. His eyes went wide.
"...Uhh, grandpa? MOVE!"
But it was too late.
The lightning was already falling.
CRACK—KABOOOOOM!
Divine lightning tore through the sky with the force of a deity's full wrath, aimed with laser precision directly at Aryanvaat's small chest—
—and missed.
By three feet.
It slammed directly into Grandpa Ganpath instead.
"GRANDPA!!!"
Aryanvaat's scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate. The blast sent dust flying in all directions, creating a cloud so thick it swallowed the courtyard whole. Aryanvaat coughed violently, shielding his eyes with his tiny arms, tears streaming down his face.
When the smoke finally cleared, when the dust settled and the air became breathable again—
Ganpath stood.
Straight. Perfectly straight. Glowing with divine electricity that crackled across his skin like tiny blue stars. His hair was electrified into a majestic mane that stood straight up from his scalp. His eyes crackled with power, with clarity, with the sharpness of someone who had just been forcibly rebooted by the universe itself.
He was still holding his gourd.
[SYSTEM]:
"...That hit Ganpath. Wait. WAIT. The lightning—it burned away the madness. His neural pathways realigned. His consciousness reassembled. The alcohol fog that's been clogging his synapses for two decades just got incinerated. His mind is functioning at full capacity again. The old coot is... back. He's actually back."
Ganpath blinked slowly, as if seeing the world for the first time in decades. Which, in a way, he was.
"Woah..." His voice came out clear, sharp, without a trace of slurred speech. "I can think again. Everything's... clear. Like someone just wiped my mind clean and reassembled it correctly."
He looked down at Aryanvaat with something entirely different in his gaze now. Not the fuzzy affection of an alcoholic guardian. Something sharper. More focused. Control. Intention. Purpose.
"Aryan... My brain... it's working. Really working. I can remember things. I can think things. I can—"
He looked at his hands, flexed his fingers experimentally. They obeyed him perfectly. He smiled—a real smile, not the lopsided grin of intoxication.
"Time to be a teacher again."
Aryanvaat's heart leaped. Tears still streamed down his face, but now they were mixed with hope.
"You'll train me? For real this time?"
Ganpath's eyes blazed with the light of someone who had just been given a second chance at meaning.
"I'll make you the most ridiculously unstoppable, statistically broken freak this continent's ever seen. I'll teach you cultivation techniques that'll make the sects weep. I'll build you into something that makes gods nervous."
He cracked his knuckles, electricity dancing between his fingers.
"We start now."
Far above, on his throne of thunderclouds, Indra sat frozen, absolutely motionless. His divine mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. He had aimed perfectly. His aim was legendary. He was the god of storms, the master of weather, the one who could split a single hair from a thousand miles away with precision lightning.
INDRA (voice dangerously quiet):
"I missed?!"
He stared at the smoldering old man standing where Aryanvaat should've been vaporized into nothingness.
INDRA:
"...How did I miss?! I AM THE STORM. I AM THE THUNDER. I AM—"
A hiccup echoed behind him.
He turned.
A radiant woman strolled into view—not walking so much as flowing—clad in a shimmering sari that seemed to be woven from luck itself, each thread humming with probability. Her eyes sparkled like stars on a clear night, holding within them the secret knowledge of every fortunate accident that had ever occurred in the universe. In one delicate hand, she held a half-empty wine bottle, taking casual sips like she was at a festival instead of the seat of divine power.
Lady Luck. Fortune Incarnate. The goddess who made every impossible thing possible.
LADY LUCK (grinning, hiccupping between words):
"Hic~ You had one job, Indra... One single job. And my boy passed with flying colors!"
Indra's jaw dropped so far it practically fell off his face.
INDRA:
"...You rigged the shot?! You intervened in my divine judgment?! You can't just—"
LADY LUCK:
"HIC~ He's got maxed Luck, remember? I couldn't not help. It's like asking water not to be wet. Besides—" She took another sip from her bottle. "—I like him. He's funny. And broken. And broken people usually make the best stories."
Indra fell to his knees, utterly defeated.
INDRA (voice hollow):
"...I hate this timeline."