Samir woke up before the dawn and his body was restless in the same way it had been since the ceremony. Sleep refused him to take every dream that broke into shards of that glitching screen with the laughter and the way Rajin looked at him like he was nothing.
He pushed himself out of bed with dragging his plain tunic and boots. The mansion was silent at this hour. No servants whispering and no nobles watching him like he carried a curse. The silence almost felt like mercy.
He stepped outside into the garden. Mist clinging to the hedges and the lanterns along the stone path burned low with their flames flickering in the faint breeze. His breath covered with steam in front of him as he walked toward the old training yard behind the estate.
The yard was a forgotten place where just a patch of dirt with cracked dummies and a few wooden weapons stacked against the wall. The guards only used it when bored. To Samir it felt like the only corner of the world where no one judged him.
He picked up a wooden staff which was heavy and unbalanced in his hands. He gave it a swing. The air whistled through the ears and the awkward weight jolted his arms.
He closed his eyes and forcing himself to breathe slow. "Let's see if this really works."
The staff struck the nearest dummy. The impact rattled his bone with sending vibrations up his arms. Again, harder this time. Strike. Parry. Strike. Each hit was clumsy, uneven. Sweat slicked his palms.
And then something flickered in his front.
A flash that wasn't real, not yet. He saw the dummy's cracked arm snapping off and swinging down toward him.
Samir jerked back just in time. A few seconds later the wooden arm broke free and crashed exactly where he had been standing.
He froze with chest hammering. His grip on the staff tightened until his knuckles ached.
"It wasn't a luck," he whispered. "It's real."
His visions weren't illusions. They weren't tricks of a stressed mind. The chaos in that broken System wasn't useless until it had given him something no one else had.
But how far could it go?
---
By the time the sun rose and the estate was alive again. Samir avoided the dining hall, where he knew his father's sharp silence and his mother's nervous glances would weigh heavier than food. Instead, he pulled his hood up and slipped into the streets.
The city was already buzzing. Merchants hollered their prices and the bread was warm from the oven, spiced meats , bundles of herbs and shiny fabrics. Horses clattered over cobblestones and kids darted between stalls with laughter and haggling blending into a constant hum.
For once Samir wanted to be no one but Just another boy in the crowd.
But whispers still followed him.
"Isn't that the Veyra boy?"
"The one who broke the Pillar?"
"Poor thing… or maybe cursed."
Samir gritted his teeth with head down and quick steps. He hated that even strangers judged him for something he hadn't chosen.
Then suddenly a commotion snapped his attention.
A boy who was no older than ten darting through the crowd with clutching a stolen purse. Behind him with a red-faced merchant shouting at him and shoving people aside in pursuit. Guards turned their heads and started already moving.
The world flickered.
Samir saw the child tripping over a loose stone ahead and crashing to the ground then guards swarming him like wolves.
The vision ended there but Samir was already moving. He slipped through the crowd and grabbed the boy's shoulder, yanking him aside just before his foot hit the stone. The purse almost tumbled from the child's hands.
"Let me go!" the boy hissed an started struggling.
Samir kept him pressed against the wall until the guards stormed past them. Then he released him.
The child's eyes widened and face was pale. "You… you saved me."
Samir just nodded once. "Run."
The boy bolted down an alley and vanished into the maze of streets.
Samir leaned against the wall and catching his breath. His heart pounded not from fear, but realization. He hadn't just avoided a vision. He had changed it.
The System had branded him broken, but broken things didn't shape the future. Did they?
---
By the time he returned to the estate there was the gates loomed tall and heavy. He stepped forward then there was a familiar mocking voice.
"Well, if it isn't the broken heir."
Rajin Dharva lounged against the wall and flanked by two of his cronies. His black-and-gold robes shimmered in the afternoon light and a smug grin carved into his face.
Samir's stomach clenched tight but he kept his head high. "What do you want, Rajin?"
Rajin pushed off the wall and then stepping closer. "Just wanted to see how it feels to live knowing the [System] itself spat you out. Tell me—does it burn?"
His friends laughed on cue.
Samir's jaw tightened. He wanted to throw up the Rajin's betrayal back at him, to see that smirk crack. But no one could know about his visions. They'd think him mad or worse.
He turned to walk past.
Rajin's hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder. "Don't ignore me, Veyra. Silence won't save you. It only makes you look weaker."
The world flickered.
Samir saw Rajin's fist slamming into his jaw , saw himself falling and dirt filling his mouth.
The vision ended.
Samir twisted his body just as Rajin's punch flew. The fist cut through empty air.
Rajin froze with wide eyes. For once, his arrogance cracked.
Samir stared back toward him with calm and steady.
For the first time, it was Rajin who looked unsettled.
"Enough," one of the cronies muttered, tugging Rajin back. "People are watching."
Rajin's lips curled into a sneer, but he didn't swing again. "You'll regret this, Veyra." His voice was low and poisonous. Then he turned and storming off with his group.
Samir let out a slow breath. His hand still shook from the close call, but inside there was a spark of satisfaction glowed. He had turned the tables, if only for a moment.
---
That night, the mansion was loomed cold and unforgiving. Servants bowed stiffly when he entered but none to meet his eyes. Word of the "broken heir" had spread even within these walls.
In the grand hall, Lord Varun Veyra waited. His tall frame radiated authority and his expression carved from stone. Beside him stood Lady Meera with her shawl clutched tight and her face pale.
"You shamed this family," Lord Varun said, his was voice like a iron. "The Dharvas are laughing at us. The nobles are whispering. Do you understand what you've done?"
Samir clenched his fists. "I didn't choose this. The Pillar—"
"Silence." The word cracked like a whip. "A Veyra doesn't make excuses."
Samir swallowed his reply.
"You will remain confined to your chambers until further notice," his father continued. "No roaming the city. No training. If the [System] itself rejects you, then you will not disgrace this house further."
His chest tightened. Anger burned under his ribs, but he forced himself to meet his father's gaze. "Lock me away if you want. But one day, you'll see what I really am."
A flicker passed through Lord Varun's eyes not in belief, but in a doubt. Then he turned away, dismissing him.
Samir's mother stepped forward half a pace, as if to comfort him, but fear chained her in place. She lowered her eyes instead.
Samir left without another word, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls.
His chamber was large, lined with bookshelves and heirloom blades, but it felt like a cage. He sat by the window, staring at the glowing city below.
The broken screen burned again in his memory, each fractured line of code sharp as glass. But alongside it came the vision of Rajin—the traitor, flames devouring his own clan.
Samir leaned back against the wall, whispering into the silence.
"They think I'm broken. But I saw the truth."
His hand curled into a fist.
"If the [System] won't guide me… then I'll guide myself."
And somewhere deep inside, beneath the shame and anger, the chaos stirred again—unsteady, dangerous, but alive.