Sam had decided. He would focus. He would get into IIT. He would become a researcher. He said the words out loud to feel them settle in his chest.
A soft voice answered inside his head.
"Emotion threshold reached. Initializing system."
Sam froze. The voice was neither male nor female. It was flat, careful, like an automated announcement, but calm enough to be kind.
"This system is The Scholar System.It will allow the user to be proficient in any field as long as they are prepared to invest effort. It lifts a person's potential gradually, using effort as fuel. This is a chance offered by the God of Life. Do not waste it."
A panel opened in his mind like a mobile app sliding into view. Clean lines. Clear text. Nothing flashy — the kind of UI a tired engineer would design: useful and honest.
At the top: The Scholar System
Below it, a list of subjects appeared. Each one showed a level: 0 / 10.
• Physics — Level 0 / 10
• Chemistry — Level 0 / 10
• Biology — Level 0 / 10
• Mathematics — Level 0 / 10
• Computer Science — Level 0 / 10
• Engineering — Level 0 / 10
• Neuroscience & Cognitive Science — Level 0 / 10
• Materials Science — Level 0 / 10
• Energy Science — Level 0 / 10
I• nformation Technology — Level 0 / 10
A small note blinked under the list:
Level 0 = tenth grade passout baseline. Level 10 = god-level mastery.Quests available. XP rewarded by studying or completing quests. Items and lab tools unlock with progress.
Another line scrolled up.
"Quests provide XP and items. XP can also be earned by normal study. Early levels are easier; higher levels require exponentially more effort. Level 9+ knowledge is beyond normal human limits. Anyone who raises all fields to Level 10 can inherit the Godhood of the God of Knowledge."
Sam blinked. The thought that hit him first was stupid and practical: God of Knowledge? Sounds dramatic. Then a darker, sharper thought: If this is real, why me? Why now?
He asked the one real question burning in him. "Are there gods?" he thought — the panel let him type in his head like a search bar.
A reply came back immediately.
"Insufficient permissions. Information restricted."
The system gave no smiles. Sam felt both relieved and frustrated. He wanted a bigger explanation. He wanted to know why the God of Life had chosen him. He wanted to ask whether this was fair to other people who had no redo. But the answer was a locked door. He would have to earn a key.
Sam's head was spinning with possibilities. He cooled himself with small, clear thoughts. Start simple. Test it. See how it works. It was Saturday. His watch said 2:00 a.m. He could try the system now, but the reasonable part of him — the part that remembered office shifts and the fog after sudden change — told him to sleep and begin fresh in the morning.
He told himself he would sleep. He lay back, feeling a strange mix of fear and relief. For the first time in a long time he had a plan that felt like a rope, not a trap.
—
Morning came quick and bright. The house was full of small noises: his mother clanging a pan, his father humming over the newspaper. They moved around like people who had not yet been carved into memory. Sam felt tears sting his eyes at the sight of them; for a moment he was a small boy again, and then he was the man who had watched them grow old.
He closed his fist and gritted his teeth and could not stop the sob that wanted out. "I'm here," he said, voice breaking. "I'm back. I'll take this burden. I'll make sure you both don't have to worry anymore."
They ate breakfast. The house smelled like, well, home. Sam felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the system: seeing his parents alive, hearing them argue over trivial things, having the chance to try again — it was already healing.
After a small, loud family morning, Sam walked to his desk. The panel was still in his mind, quiet and waiting. He decided to start with mathematics. It had always been his second favorite after computer science. Numbers cleared his head. Numbers felt fair.
He opened a notebook and the Scholar panel registered his action. A tiny line appeared:
Quest unlocked: Basic Mathematics Practice (XP reward).
He sat down and began. The first problems were ninth-grade arithmetic and algebra — things he had learned once and could pull back quickly. The system made focus easy. Concentration did not arrive as a battle but as a gentle lock. Five solid hours passed with fewer breaks than he would have allowed even in his twenties. No panic, no wandering web tabs, no hunger for distractions. Time thinned and became work.
At the end of five hours the panel displayed an update.
Mathematics — Level 0 / 10
XP: 250 / 1000
Sam read it twice. Two hundred fifty out of one thousand. That felt honest. Not instant mastery, not a magic jump. But real progress. He had never been able to sit and study for five straight hours before without breaks, without fidgeting. The system had done something to help him hold attention.
He also noticed something else: facts and formulas felt sharper in his head than before. He could see a solution clearly, like a snapshot that wanted to stay. But the snapshot blurred as hours passed. It clung long enough to be useful, but not long enough to be perfect. A stronger, permanent recall — the sort of photographic memory he dreamt of — would have to come later, as a reward. For now he had a steady improvement and the promise of more.
Sam closed his notebook and let the sunlight rest on his hands. He felt tired, but satisfied in a simple, honest way. The panel hummed in the back of his mind like a machine warming up.
He had a system. He had time. He had his parents.
And he had a small, real step forward: Mathematics — 250 XP.
He smiled, thin and shaky, and whispered to himself, "Let's go."