"You're doing great, Priya," Krishna murmured. "Just hold on a little longer. Help is coming."
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.
The ambulance screeched to a halt at the park entrance. Paramedics rushed over with equipment, taking over with professional efficiency.
"What happened?" the lead paramedic asked as they prepared an epinephrine injection.
"Bee sting, anaphylactic reaction," Krishna reported crisply. "Symptoms began approximately eight minutes ago. Airway maintained, legs elevated, patient kept conscious. Pulse is 140, breathing shallow but present."
The paramedic looked up sharply, surprise flickering across his face. "Are you in the medical field?"
"No. Just... read a lot."
The epinephrine injection went in smoothly. Within seconds, Priya's breathing improved dramatically. Color returned to her face. The paramedics loaded her onto a stretcher, the boy climbing in beside her.
Before they left, the boy turned back, his eyes finding Krishna. "Thank you. You saved her."
Krishna shook his head slightly. "The doctors will save her. I just helped her wait."
**[SYSTEM: Objective 2/3 complete. Individual assisted. Core problem addressed: Emergency medical intervention provided, patient stabilized, professional help facilitated.]**
The warmth in Krishna's chest intensified. Two down. One more to go.
But as he left the park, he felt a strange exhaustion. Not physical—his enhanced body could handle far more—but something deeper. That energy he'd channeled to Priya had cost him something.
*Worth it,* he thought firmly.
***
The evening shadows lengthened as Krishna finally neared his home. His stomach rumbled—he'd missed lunch entirely, too caught up in the day's events. The small convenience store on the corner beckoned, its fluorescent lights bright against the gathering dusk.
He pushed through the door, the bell chiming overhead. The store was mostly empty—an old uncle behind the counter, a middle-aged woman browsing the snack aisle, and—
A young man near the back. College age, maybe. His body language screamed tension—shoulders hunched, eyes darting, one hand shoved deep in his jacket pocket.
Krishna froze.
**[SYSTEM: Individual identified. Emotional distress detected. Intent analysis: Desperation. Financial crisis. High probability of criminal action. Objective: Prevent harm and address root cause. Progress: 3/3.]**
*Oh no.*
The realization crystallized with awful clarity. The young man was going to rob the store.
Krishna could see it unfolding in his mind—the desperation driving someone to a point of no return, the violence that could erupt, the lives that could be destroyed in the next sixty seconds.
Time seemed to slow.
The young man's hand emerged from his pocket, gripping something. Not a gun—Krishna's enhanced vision caught the glint of a knife. Small, but deadly enough.
"Don't move!" the young man's voice cracked as he advanced on the elderly shopkeeper. "Give me the money from the register! All of it! Don't—don't make this difficult!"
The shopkeeper's face went pale. The woman in the aisle gasped, dropping her basket.
Krishna moved.
Not toward the robber—toward the young man's side, his enhanced speed carrying him across the store in a heartbeat. His hand shot out, gripping the wrist holding the knife with controlled strength.
"Stop," Krishna said quietly.
The young man's eyes widened in shock, then fury. He tried to pull away, but Krishna's grip was iron. Not painful—he was careful about that—but inescapable.
"Let go of me!" the young man snarled, desperation cracking his voice. "You don't understand! I need—I have to—"
"I understand more than you think," Krishna interrupted, his voice low enough that only the young man could hear. "You're desperate. You're out of options. Something terrible has happened, and you think this is your only way out."
The young man's eyes flickered—surprise, then suspicion. "You don't know anything about me."
"Then tell me."
Those two words, spoken with such simple sincerity, seemed to break something. The fight drained out of the young man's body. The knife clattered to the floor.
"My mother," he whispered, his voice breaking. "She needs an operation. Kidney failure. We don't have the money. I've tried everything—loans, selling everything we own—but it's not enough. The hospital won't operate without advance payment. She's dying, and I can't—I can't just watch her die!"
Tears streamed down his face, unchecked and raw.
Krishna's grip loosened but didn't release. "How much do you need?"
"Two lakhs. Fifty thousand immediately for admission. But I only have thirty thousand. Twenty thousand short, and they won't even admit her. What am I supposed to do?" The words tumbled out in a broken rush.
The shopkeeper had grabbed his phone, presumably to call the police. Krishna met his eyes and shook his head slightly—a silent plea for patience.
Krishna's mind raced. He didn't have twenty thousand rupees. His family was comfortable but not wealthy. But there had to be another way. There was *always* another way.
"Have you applied for government health schemes?" Krishna asked. "Ayushman Bharat covers kidney operations up to five lakhs."
The young man blinked. "I—what?"
"Ayushman Bharat. It's a government insurance scheme for families below a certain income threshold. If your mother qualifies, the operation is fully covered. You need to visit the nearest Common Service Center with your family's Aadhaar cards and income proof."
Hope flickered in the young man's eyes, fragile as a candle flame. "I didn't know. No one told me about any scheme."
Krishna released his wrist and pulled out his phone. His fingers flew across the screen, searching, finding information. "Here. This is the nearest center. It opens at eight AM. You can apply tomorrow first thing. The approval process takes about a week normally, but for emergency cases, it can be expedited with the right medical documentation."
He looked up, meeting the young man's eyes. "This isn't over. Your mother can still be saved. But not this way. This way destroys you both—she loses her son to prison, and you can't help her from behind bars."
The young man stared at the phone screen, at the address and information Krishna had pulled up. His hands trembled as he took it in, reading through blurred vision.
"Why are you helping me?" His voice was barely a whisper. "I was going to—I almost—"
"Because desperation makes people do terrible things," Krishna said simply. "But one moment of desperation doesn't define who you are. What you do next—that's what matters."
He turned to the shopkeeper, who'd been watching the entire exchange with wide eyes. "Uncle, please. He's not a criminal. He's a son trying to save his mother. Can you find it in your heart to let this go?"
The elderly shopkeeper looked at the young man—really looked at him, seeing past the knife and the fear to the broken human underneath. His weathered face softened.
"Go," he said gruffly. "Take care of your mother. And don't ever come back to my store with a knife again."
The young man's legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing—relief, shame, gratitude all tangled together. "Thank you. Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Krishna helped him up, steadying him. "Go home. Be with your mother. Apply for the scheme tomorrow. And if you need help navigating the process, here—" He quickly typed his phone number into the young man's contacts. "Call me if you get stuck."
The young man nodded frantically, clutching the phone like a lifeline, and stumbled out of the store into the gathering darkness.
The woman who'd been frozen in the snack aisle finally found her voice. "That was... you're very brave. Or very foolish."
Krishna managed a tired smile. "Maybe both."
**[SYSTEM: Objective 3/3 complete. Individual assisted. Core problem addressed: Criminal action prevented, root cause identified, viable solution provided, life trajectory redirected.]**
**[TASK 1 COMPLETED: "THE TRINITY OF NEED"]**
**[Calculating rewards...]**
**[Reward: 30 Karmic Points acquired. Current total: 30 KP.]**
**[Bonus: You addressed not only immediate crises but underlying causes. Additional 10 Karmic Points awarded. Current total: 40 KP.]**
**[Unlocking skill...]**
**[Skill Unlocked: Divine Perception (Level 1)]**
**[Description: Enhanced ability to perceive emotional states, intentions, and life force of individuals within a limited radius. The eyes of Krishna that see beyond the veil of flesh.]**
Krishna felt it immediately—a subtle shift in his vision. When he looked at the shopkeeper now, he saw more than just an old man. He saw the warmth of compassion, the fading fear, the quiet strength of someone who'd lived through decades of hardship.
It was overwhelming and beautiful and terrifying all at once.
He purchased a bottle of water with shaking hands—partially from exhaustion, partially from the sheer weight of what had just transpired—and stepped out into the evening.
The walk home took ten minutes. With each step, Krishna processed what had happened. Three people. Three completely different situations. Three lives touched, maybe even changed.
And he was just getting started.
When he finally reached his house, pushed open the door, and heard his mother call out, "Krishna, is that you? You're late!" the normalcy of it almost made him laugh.
*If only you knew, Ma,* he thought. *If only you knew what your son did today.*
But he couldn't tell her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
This was his burden, his blessing, his responsibility.
He was Krishna. And his journey had truly begun.
To Be Continue.