Rain's finally chilled out. Not gone, just putting on a light show now, with Mumbai's alleys all glittered up thanks to the stubborn drizzle bouncing off every scrap of concrete. You know the vibe—it's like the city's just run through the car wash and came out sparkling, but still has half the dirt under its nails. Arjun Mehra? He's just this drenched kid squatting behind some crates that, honestly, probably smell like every bad decision he's ever made. He's squeezing a jade chunk so tight it's a wonder it doesn't shatter. Honestly, you'd think he was trying to fuse his DNA with the thing.
Now, the dude's body is screaming at him, every inch throbbing harder than the bass at a late-night gullies party. But his head's gone crystal clear—like post-cry-session clarity, but brainier. Yeah, the whole brush-with-death thing probably helps. Makes your priorities do backflips. The run-in with those thugs could've been his game over, but somehow, Arjun feels…lighter? Different. A little broken, sure, but also rebooted, consciousness 2.0 style.
That's when the voice kicks in. Not out loud, mind you, just sliding in through the backdoor of his mind, all smooth and clinical. Like, if IKEA instructions had an attitude and a side gig as a motivational podcaster. "Congrats, man. Didn't die. That's your starter pack." The voice is—the System. You know, capital letters, like it's trying to win Employee of the Month for Reality. "I'm not your get-out-of-jail-free card, but hey, I can teach you a few things. Provided you actually sweat for it."
Arjun's shivering and honestly looks like he's about five seconds away from throwing the jade back and running for the hills. But curiosity wins. He mumbles, "Guide? Skills? What is this, Final Fantasy: Battered Mumbai Edition?"
And the voice is just, well, relentless. Explains how everything's a challenge, every move counts, and—classic RPG energy—rewards come after work. No easy mode. You gotta hustle. Mess up, and life's gonna kick you, but you get to try again. That's both reassuring and, honestly, a little exhausting. You can tell Arjun is processing all this at dial-up speed, dreams of helping his mom crowding out everything else. For years his biggest upgrade was finding cheaper pani puri—now he's being told he can unlock actual powers if he survives whatever fresh hell Mumbai's about to throw at him.
"Think of me as a framework, kid," the System says—like it picked up tech-startup lingo while haunting some Reddit forums. "I'm not here to play puppet master. You do the work, you get the gains. Survive, and let's see where you land."
Okay, cool, no pressure at all.
And now, that little jade chunk is pulsing in Arjun's hand—honestly, if it started humming and demanding a playlist, he wouldn't be surprised. Suddenly, he's seeing the world sharper, all the little details popping like he's had twenty shots of espresso. He notices which puddles are slipperiest, where shadows move, and, hey, there's an escape route over there he never would've spotted before. His body? It's moving like he shaved off a few kilos of doubt. Feels like he's got an auto-upgrade, but it all rides on not screwing up.
The System drops the bomb: "First quest? Survival Fight. Endure, dodge, outwit, basically 'don't die horribly tonight.' If you pass, surprise—actual new powers." Low-stakes, right? Heh.
Arjun's mouth twists. "A test. Classic," he says, sort of half-laughing, not sure if he should cry or fist-bump the air. "So, beat this level, get the first badge. Cool."
Yep. No shortcuts. Just the old heartbreak-n'-hustle combo platter. System doesn't miss a beat: "I'll hand you the map, you walk the path. No piggybacks, bro."
And for the first time in ages, Arjun remembers what it's like to feel…motivated? Hopeful? Sure, he's scared—everyone is in this city when the sun sets and the rain comes down. But thinking about his mom—her tired eyes, the way she jokes even when there's nothing in the fridge—it grounds him. Big energy shift. He's here for keeps.
"Alright," he mutters, more confident now, rolling his shoulders back like he's ready for the next punch life throws. "If this is what it takes—I'm in. Surviving is priority number one. Everything else can wait."
The System is that coach who's tough but fair: "Observe. Rush in smart, not fast. Survive, learn, cash in the result. Use your eyes, your feet, your brain. I'll give you nudges, but you gotta do the running, pal."
He kinda likes the honesty, even if it's coming from, you know, a probably imaginary guidance counselor living in his own skull. He stands, testing out his go-go-gadget upgrade. Movements? Smoother, sharper, more like he belongs here than ever before. It's like he's finally been let into some secret guidebook to surviving Mumbai's wild bestiary of streets, thieves, potholes, and panic attacks.
And the System? Leaves him with a little classic two-liner: "Showtime. First quest—knock it out. Every second, you pick up or drop something valuable. Your choice if you keep flailing or start dancing."
He grins, squeezing the jade, scanning the alley with new focus. Somewhere the threat still hides out there. But now? He's got this fire—something bright and kind of wild. Not just the stubborn grind of the old Arjun who rode his bike through every damn monsoon, but someone new. Someone on the cusp.
The city around him is humming, neon melting into puddles, traffic a weird kind of lullaby off in the distance. There's still that streetlamp whimpering at the corner—maybe hope, maybe just power flickering. Either way, he's seeing it different now. Or maybe, just maybe, he's finally seeing himself different. Let's go.