The sun rose gently over the quiet village, warm golden light filtering through the banyan trees, casting long shadows across the mud roads. The sound of cows mooing, bicycle bells ringing, and temple bells clinking filled the fresh morning air. For Rahul, this was just another peaceful morning in the village.
He was thirteen. Short, scrawny, with a tuft of hair that always stood up like a question mark. His father, Rakesh, was the village police officer — a stern man with a soft heart. His mother, Sunita, was a homemaker who sang old Hindi songs while cooking. Life here was slow, uneventful, and kind. For once, Rahul thought he was doing okay.
He had been given a second chance.
---
But peace never lasts.
It happened in a blur.
The road to the weekly market was dusty and crowded. Rahul walked hand-in-hand with his mother. Then—a scream, a sudden push, the sound of screeching tires, men with knives. His mother tried to shield him, but the blade came fast. Blood spilled on the road like spilled paint.
Before he could understand anything, a cloth covered his face. Rough hands grabbed him.
Darkness.
---
When he opened his eyes again, he was not on the road.
He was on a boat.
Floating.
No… sinking.
A hole gaped open in the center of the wooden floor, water gushing in like a silent scream. The boat creaked with every breath it took, as if alive and dying at the same time. Moonlight reflected off the river, pale and cold.
Rahul sat there, motionless.
No crying.
No screaming.
No panic.
Just stillness.
---
"Why am I dying again?" he thought.
"Why was I living in the first place?"
His body was calm, but his mind raced like a collapsing dam.
Memories flooded in—not of this life, but the last.
---
He remembered.
A fat, lazy boy.
A waste of breath.
No ambition. No courage.
Living off his parents' money.
Sleeping all day, escaping into fantasies of power, beauty, and romance.
Dreaming of becoming handsome overnight.
Dreaming of women who'd fall for his smile.
Dreaming of wealth, love, fame.
But never working for any of it.
He feared the world. Feared people. Feared being cheated on. Feared even loving someone.
He feared being the loser.
And in the end, he was.
He slit his own wrists in the bathtub one cold night. Alone, numb, too ashamed to ask for help. A coward's exit. A loser's end.
But something—some cruel mercy—gave him another life.
---
This time, he thought he'd change.
This time, he exercised.
This time, he helped his parents.
This time, he tried.
He even began dreaming smaller—just a normal, quiet life. Maybe that was enough.
But was it?
Because here he was again.
Sinking. Alone. Dying.
Again.
---
"Do I want to die?"
He couldn't answer.
His mother was gone.
His peace was gone.
His heart—empty.
---
"Do I want to live?"
He still didn't know.
All he knew was:
If he survived this…
He would have to become a monster.
A demon.
Because someone would pay for what happened to his mother.
And that would mean… many more people would die.
Was it worth surviving just to become the very thing he once feared?
---
Then…
A strange warmth pulsed in his chest.
A spark.
Then a tremor.
---
> [ Living Will Core detected… ]
[ Dying Will Core present… ]
[ Core Conflict: Paradoxical Will ]
[ Initiating Merge Sequence… ]
[ SEED CORE is forming… ]
[ Core Rank: SSS ]
[ SUCCESSFUL. ]
---
Yet still… Rahul felt nothing.
No explosion.
No power surge.
No enlightenment.
Just water creeping to his lips.
Eyes closing.
Lungs screaming.
Then—
A hand.
Rough. Warm. Familiar.
Pulling him out of the water.
Rahul coughed violently as air rushed back into his lungs. He gasped and choked, shivering on the riverbank.
Through blurred eyes, he saw the face of the man who pulled him out.
His father.
Rakesh.
Wet. Bleeding. Furious.
But alive.
And so was Rahul.
Barely.
---
He looked up at the stars, still gasping for breath.
A new life once again.
But something was different.
Something had awoken.
And the world would never be the same.
---
[ SEED CORE INSTALLED. ]
[ CATEGORY: UNKNOWN. POTENTIAL: LIMITLESS. ]
[ STATUS: LOCKED UNTIL WILL IS CHOSEN. ]
---
> Do you choose to live for love… or destroy for regret?
Rahul didn't have the answer.
Not yet.
.
.
.
.
The sky above them was growing pale as dawn broke over the river. Cold wind brushed against Rahul's soaked skin as he lay half-conscious on the muddy bank, shivering and gasping. Beside him, his father, Rakesh, crouched on one knee, drenched and bleeding from a gash on his shoulder. The look in his eyes was frantic, but not for himself—for his son.
"Rahul," Rakesh said, gently shaking his shoulders. "Breathe. You're safe now."
Rahul blinked slowly, his lips purple from the cold. His mind wasn't entirely here. Somewhere between drowning and waking, something strange had happened. Something… unreal.
Then—
A sound, not heard by ears but imprinted into his consciousness, echoed like a whisper from another world.
> [ Do you want to link with his Avtar? ]
He blinked.
"What?" he murmured, more to himself than to his father.
The words floated in the air before his eyes like smoke forming into letters. No one else could see it. Only him. It wasn't a voice. It was a presence.
> [ Do you want to link with his Avtar? ]
"Avtar?" he whispered again.
He had no idea what it meant. But his instincts spoke before reason could intervene.
"Yes," he said aloud—softly, but with certainty.
There was a flicker of energy. Something tugged in his chest, not painful, but oddly alive.
> [ Successful. Connecting with Avtar... ]
[ You have linked with Avtar: Water Snake-Alligator ]
[ You have gained a fragment of memory... ]
And then—it hit him.
A sharp vision invaded his senses, blinding in its clarity.
---
He wasn't seeing the riverbank anymore.
He was watching Rakesh—his father—diving into the river with rage and desperation, screaming his name, ignoring the blood gushing from his side. A gunshot echoed underwater—muffled, slow, distant. A bullet spun through the murky blue like a cursed dart and tore through Rakesh's chest.
He was dying. Sinking. Yet, his will screamed no.
Rahul felt it.
The will.
That dying fire in his father's heart that refused to fade.
And then—like a phantom—something coiled around Rakesh in the water. A translucent form, gliding through the river. A hybrid—its body like a water snake, long and flexible, but with jaws thick and jagged like a river alligator's. It fused into him—became him.
Avtar.
That was the name.
Animal-based. Water-attributed. Powered by regret. By love. By sacrifice.
---
The vision faded. Rahul gasped and clutched his chest. The warmth from earlier returned—but now, sharper, more real. There was a connection between him and his father now. Not just blood. Not just love. Something magical.
His lips quivered. He stared up at Rakesh.
"So… you too…" he muttered.
But Rakesh didn't answer.
He didn't know.
To him, Rahul was just in shock. Just a boy who had seen too much, too fast.
His trembling hand reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small marble—no bigger than a grape. It glowed faintly, like the last embers of a dying flame.
"Take this," Rakesh said firmly. His voice was harsh now, filled with urgency.
"What is it?" Rahul asked, confused, eyes fixed on the glowing orb.
"No time. Just… trust me," Rakesh said. "Take it. And run."
"I'm not leaving you—"
"RAHUL!" he barked.
The name shattered the cold air like a whip.
Rakesh gripped his son's shoulder tightly.
"They'll come back. The ones who took you, who killed your mother. They'll come for you again. They're not done."
"But why?" Rahul's voice cracked. "Why us?"
Rakesh looked away.
His silence was the answer.
"Go to the city. Take the last bus. Start over. There are people there who might help you. Just keep this marble safe. Don't show it to anyone."
Rahul's fingers clenched around the orb. It felt warm despite everything.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest.
"I don't want to leave," he said softly.
Rakesh looked at him for a long moment. Then he smiled faintly—a sad, resigned smile.
"I didn't want to lose your mother either," he said. "But we don't always get what we want, Rahul. Sometimes, we only get what we need."
---
Rahul didn't argue again.
He turned. Ran.
His shoes slapped against the wet earth, the marble clutched tightly in his palm. He didn't look back.
---
By some twist of fate, the village bus hadn't left yet. The driver was lighting a bidi by the engine, the engine still coughing awake.
"Wait!" Rahul shouted, breathless.
The driver turned, startled.
"Kid? What happened to you?"
"I—I need to go to the city," he said, eyes wide, panting.
The driver hesitated, then sighed.
"Fine. You're lucky. This bus isn't coming back until next week."
Rahul climbed on, soaked and shaking.
There were only four other passengers. None of them looked his way.
He slumped into a seat by the window, breathing hard. He wiped the fog from the glass and stared out.
---
The village passed by slowly.
The small tea stall where he used to buy boiled eggs.
The cracked stone temple at the center of the village.
The banyan tree where he once tied a rakhi to his best friend's wrist.
His house. Small, red-roofed. Quiet.
He closed his eyes as it vanished from view.
---
The bus picked up speed, leaving the village behind like a fading dream.
---
Inside the bus, Rahul opened his hand.
The marble still glowed softly. It pulsed once, as if responding to his touch.
What was it? he wondered.
His mind raced with questions, but answers were nowhere in reach. He knew better than to chase them now.
Some things would reveal themselves later.
Some things were meant to wait.
---
What mattered more was the truth that settled heavily in his chest:
His life was no longer normal.
He had wished for a lazy life before. One where things came to him easily. Powers without pain. Wealth without effort. Love without risk.
But what he got… was chaos.
Grief. Magic. Death. Core systems. Talking powers. Animal spirits. A past life. Regret. A father's blood. A mother's scream. And now… a glowing marble leading to nowhere.
He couldn't pretend anymore. He couldn't hide in fantasy.
He had to survive.
---
But that didn't mean he had changed.
No. The boy who feared effort was still there.
A little boy inside him still screamed:
> "I never wanted this!"
"I wanted an easy power!"
"I wanted to be cool without doing anything!"
"Why do I have to earn it!?"
But no one answered.
The world never did.
Instead, the wind outside whispered through the cracked glass.
And in his chest, beneath the cold and confusion, something ancient stirred—
The Seed Core.
Still locked.
Still sleeping.
But very much alive.
---
And so the boy with broken dreams, a dead mother, a dying father, and a core of impossible power rode the last bus into the city—into a world that had no space for mercy.
A world waiting for the Seed to grow.