Sleep? Yeah, that was never happening tonight.
I'd been tossing and turning under my blanket for what felt like forever, pretending to be asleep while my heart played the drums of destiny. Tomorrow—no, in a few minutes—I'd turn five. But this wasn't just any birthday. This was the night the System was supposed to awaken.
The divine omnipotent being had told me once: "When you turn five, the system that rewards your hard work shall take root."
And ever since that day, I'd been half excited, half terrified, and entirely unable to sleep.
---
The house was quiet. Our small Assamese home, surrounded by rice fields and the faint smell of monsoon earth, slept peacefully. The only sound was the old wall clock, ticking like it was teasing me. The moonlight peeked through the window bars, painting silver stripes across my bed.
> "Alright," I whispered to myself, "any minute now… and please, don't let this system boot up like Windows 98."
I had no idea what to expect. A divine chime? A glowing tattoo? Maybe I'd just sneeze and suddenly gain a "Stats" screen.
---
11:59 PM
My pulse quickened. The seconds felt heavier.
And then—everything stopped.
The fan froze mid-spin, the sound of crickets vanished, and even the moonlight dimmed, as if the universe itself held its breath. A faint golden light began glowing from my chest, warm and alive, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The world melted away into a white expanse—bright, soft, endless.
> "Okay," I muttered nervously. "Here we go again. Déjà vu of divine Wi-Fi connection."
---
A calm, genderless voice resonated in my head:
> "Initialization complete. Host identified: Abhay Bharadwaj. Age: four years, three hundred sixty-four days."
> "Yikes! You could've at least cleared your throat first!"
> "System online. Greetings, Host. I am the 'God Rewards Hard Work' System."
> "You sound like Google Assistant got blessed by Brahma."
> "Efficiency is a divine trait."
Touché.
---
The Tutorial
Golden screens appeared before me—floating like holograms, glowing faintly.
> [Welcome, Host. System Tutorial Initiating.]
Panels shifted, showing icons:
[SKILLS] [ATTRIBUTES] [MISSIONS] [INVENTORY] [KNOWLEDGE PANEL]
I couldn't help grinning.
> "Oh my god, it's literally an RPG menu. I'm a five-year-old with a HUD."
> "The System rewards consistent effort. Skill mastery and personal growth form your path to divinity."
> "So... karma, but gamified?"
> "An apt simplification."
---
Skill Levels
A pyramid appeared in mid-air, ten tiers glowing like molten gold.
> "Skills are divided into ten stages of mastery."
Level-1
Title-Apprentice
Description-Knows the basics. Capable of failure with style.
Level-2
Title-Adept
Description- Reliable beginner. Makes fewer explosions.
Level-3
Title-Skilled
Description-Understands the craft. Still learning finesse.
Level-4
Title-Expert
Description-Noticeable results. Occasionally praised.
Level-5
Title-Proficient
Description-The global average benchmark.
Level-6
Title-Specialist
Description-Professional-level understanding.
Level-7
Title-Master
Description-Creates new standards. Inspires others.
Level-8
Title-Genius
Description-Performs the impossible within the possible.Operates on near-perfect intuition.
Level-9
Title-Transcendent
Description-Operates beyond ordinary limits.
Level-10
Title-Supreme
Description-
Achieves mastery of existing knowledge—comprehends all known laws, theories, and techniques of the current age i.e world limit
I tilted my head. "So, Level 10 doesn't mean I can just invent future knowledge, right?"
The voice replied smoothly:
> "Correct. Level 10 represents absolute mastery of what is currently discoverable within your world's era. You will not automatically know knowledge that has yet to be conceived or proven. To advance further, you must research, experiment, and innovate."
> "Ah. So no instant Einstein upgrades."
> "Precisely. Genius is earned, not downloaded."
That actually made me grin. The rules made sense. Realism in a divine system? How refreshing.
---
Knowledge Compatibility Panel
A soft chime, and another golden window appeared beside the pyramid:
[WORLD KNOWLEDGE COMPATIBILITY PANEL]
> "This display will show how your skills align with the physical and cultural laws of each world you enter," the System explained.
"If you learn a skill—say, cooking—it may translate differently between worlds. A chef in your current world may be 'Proficient,' but in a world where culinary arts involve manipulating time or emotions, that same knowledge may be rated lower until you adapt."
> "So, every world has its own physics and logic, and my brain will recalibrate?"
> "Correct. Adaptability, not inheritance, determines your growth curve."
> "Okay, that's… actually brilliant. Like learning to swim in new water each time."
> "Efficiency prefers challenge to stagnation."
---
The Stat Screen
The next panel shimmered into view—finally, the big one.
[CURRENT ATTRIBUTES]
STRENGTH: 28
AGILITY: 31
ENDURANCE: 36
INTELLIGENCE (IQ): 140
CHARISMA: 40
LUCK: 50
> "The values have been normalized to a linear human scale," said the System.
"Fifty represents the average adult benchmark. Your current body, being five years old, caps at thirty to forty in physical parameters."
> "So I'm basically a strong toddler with high IQ and medium luck."
> "An accurate observation."
> "Thanks. Always wanted to be described like a Pokémon."
> "You are statistically rare."
> "You really know how to flatter a kid."
> "Flattery is an inefficient motivational tool."
I chuckled despite myself.
This was the start of something big.
---
Stat Logic & Future Growth
> "Your potential extends beyond these numbers," the System continued.
"In an ordinary world, humans typically cap at one hundred. You, however, due to the divine link, can reach up to two thousand in this realm. In extraordinary worlds, the ceiling can increase infinitely, though power will always conform to local laws."
> "So even if I become Superman in another world, when I return, I'll just be the super-fit human version here?"
> "Essentially. Your physical body normalizes to this world's parameters but retains enhanced efficiency, comprehension, and durability relative to its limits."
> "Got it. So, divine min-maxing with balance patches."
> "Precisely."
---
I took a deep breath and stared at the glowing panels. They shimmered, golden and alive, like windows into potential futures.
> "Alright then," I whispered. "Five years old and already have a cosmic upgrade menu. Not bad."
The System hummed softly in response.
> "Initialization complete. Welcome, Host. From now on, your effort shall determine your destiny."
The light faded. The world returned. The fan spun again, the clock resumed ticking, and faint moonlight kissed the edges of my bed.
I lay back, grinning like an idiot.
> "Alright, System," I whispered. "Let's make this life interesting."
---
The morning after midnight felt… suspiciously ordinary for someone who just got handed the keys to a cosmic progress tracker.
No glowing runes. No mysterious chants. Not even a "ding" from the ceiling.
Just sunlight creeping through the curtains and my grandmother's voice echoing down the hall,
> "Uth ja, Abhay! Kamakhya jaane ka samay ho gaya!"("abhay get up we have to get to Kamakhya")
Ah yes — Kamakhya Temple. The perfect combination of holiness, humidity, and a hundred relatives in one Maruti van.
---
🌅 Morning
We left before the rooster had even finished his motivational speech.
Inside the cramped van:
Father, the designated driver and unofficial family philosopher.
Mother, giving him live commentary on his driving speed.
Grandmother, clutching her prayer beads like Wi-Fi signal boosters to heaven.
Grandfather, holding my hand and snoring with saintly peace.
Uncle Rajiv, humming movie songs, wrong lyrics and all.
Halfway to Kamakhya, Uncle turned to me dramatically.
> "Abhay beta, bata na, teri favorite movie kaunsi hai?"
Now, this was tricky. Because in this version of reality, some cinematic legends didn't exist.
No Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, no Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. The heartbreak still hurt.
So, I said with all the wisdom of my five years and two lives,
> "Raja Hindustani."
Uncle Rajiv smirked. "Bacche ka taste toh solid hai!"
---
The temple was just as I remembered from my past life — crowded, loud, and strangely comforting.
The air smelled of incense, ghee lamps, and devotion.
We climbed the steps, and my grandmother whispered,
> "Maa Kamakhya sab sunegi, beta."
I smiled, pressing my palms together.
If there's one god who knows rebirth paperwork, it's definitely her, I thought.
Then, silently,
> "Hey Maa, I don't know how this second chance happened. But I'll live it better. No more wasting time, no more just existing. And if possible… please help me not trip during the aarti."
---
🌞 Afternoon:
By afternoon, we were back in our small Assamese-Nepali village — about a hundred households strong, 20 kilometers from Guwahati. A place where everyone knew everyone and gossip travelled faster than radio waves.
Mother was busy organizing my birthday decorations while I sat on the veranda, munching puffed rice and staring at the fields.
The System interface I'd seen last night still hovered at the back of my mind.
No sound, no glowing effects — just a calm, waiting presence.
It wasn't gone.
It wasn't talking.
It was simply there — like a mirror, ready for whenever I decided to look.
I could call it up anytime, check my stats, watch my progress. The rest was on me.
This is it, I told myself. From tomorrow, I start.
Not ten years later. Not "when I grow up."
Tomorrow.
Martial arts for strength.
Reading for knowledge.
Drawing and writing for creativity.
Business understanding, because Dad… he'd need someone sharp beside him when the time came.
I looked toward his workshop. He was explaining something to a carpenter, his hands moving with the confidence of a man who built dreams out of wood.
In my past life, I'd learned the truth from Grandma — how his trust had been betrayed when he expanded.
Not this time.
This time, I'd be ready.
---
🌇 Evening:
Our house buzzed with warmth that evening.
Lanterns hung from the eaves, music floated through the open windows, and relatives kept arriving with gifts and louder voices.
I was dressed in new clothes — a kurta so stiff it could deflect bullets — and sitting like a small deity on a chair decorated with ribbons.
Father lifted me into his arms, smiling.
> "So, birthday boy, what do you want this year?"
I took a dramatic pause.
The room fell quiet.
"Papa," I said with grave seriousness, "mujhe martial arts seekhna hai."("I want to learn martial art")
There was silence. Then Uncle Rajiv burst out laughing.
> "Dekha! Maine bola tha — yeh toh Bruce Lee banega!"("See , didn't I tell you-he will be the next Bruce Lee!)
My father blinked knowing my maturity and gift, then smiled proudly.
> "Martial arts, haan? Theek hai. But remember, school starts in February. Can you handle both?" ("martial art ,huh? okay. But remember school starts in February .can you handle both?")
"I can manage," I said, as confidently as a five-year-old with a cosmic learning app could be.
He chuckled. "Then done. We'll find you a teacher."
---
Grandfather leaned over, his eyes twinkling.
> "Aur cricket, chhote?"( "and cricket,son?"
I grinned. "Wo bhi seekhenge, Dadu. Balance banana zaroori hai!"("I will also study that gramps but balance is also necessary")
He laughed, that deep hearty sound that could shake walls and hearts alike.
---
When everyone left and the music faded, I lay on my bed under the lazy ceiling fan.
The day had been perfect — holy, noisy, and full of laughter.
But more than anything, it felt like the start of something real.
The system waited quietly in the back of my mind.
The stars glowed faintly through the window.
And I whispered to the ceiling,
> "Tomorrow, we begin. Let's make this life count."
Then, before sleep claimed me, a single thought drifted through:
Adventure doesn't need to find me this time.
I'll go find it myself.
---