Chapter 2: The Trinity of Need (part-01)
The morning after the System's awakening, Krishna woke before his alarm.
This in itself was unusual. For fifteen years, his mother had waged a daily battle to extract him from bed, employing tactics ranging from gentle coaxing to threatening to pour water on his head. But today, his eyes opened naturally as dawn light filtered through his bedroom curtains, and he felt... *awake*. Truly awake, in a way he couldn't remember ever feeling before.
He sat up, flexing his fingers experimentally. The body strengthening from yesterday still hummed beneath his skin—subtle but undeniable. Everything felt more *present*, more *real*. The texture of his bedsheet against his palm. The distant sound of the milk delivery man's bicycle bell. The faint smell of his mother's morning chai brewing in the kitchen.
Then the System flickered to life in his consciousness, and the world sharpened further.
**[GOOD MORNING, HOST. SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE. DIVINE TEMPLATE INTEGRATION: 0.8%]**
"Only 0.8 percent?" Krishna thought toward it, slightly amused. "And here I thought I'd be lifting mountains by now."
**[PATIENCE, HOST. THE SUPREME GOD'S FULL MANIFESTATION CANNOT BE RUSHED. EVEN 1% OF LORD KRISHNA'S DIVINE ESSENCE WOULD SHATTER YOUR CURRENT MORTAL FRAME. WE PROCEED WITH MEASURED INTEGRATION.]**
Krishna couldn't argue with that logic. He stood, moving to his small mirror, and examined his reflection. He looked the same—messy black hair, lean build, the perpetually tired eyes of a chronic webnovel reader. But there was something different. A quality to his gaze that hadn't been there before. Focus, maybe. Or purpose.
**[TASK INITIATED: "THE TRINITY OF NEED"]**
**[OBJECTIVE: IDENTIFY AND ASSIST THREE INDIVIDUALS FACING GENUINE CHALLENGES]**
**[PARAMETERS: ASSISTANCE MUST ADDRESS THE CORE OF THEIR PROBLEM, NOT MERELY SURFACE SYMPTOMS. INTENTION MATTERS. DHARMA MUST BE SERVED.]**
**[REWARD: 30 KARMIC POINTS. UNLOCK: 1 DIVINE SKILL (NATURE DETERMINED BY PERFORMANCE)]**
**[PROGRESS: 0/3 INDIVIDUALS IDENTIFIED]**
**[TIME LIMIT: SUNSET TODAY]**
Krishna's eyebrows rose. "Time limit? That's new. And a bit intense for a second task, don't you think?"
**[THE UNIVERSE DOES NOT PAUSE ITS SUFFERING ON YOUR CONVENIENCE, HOST. THOSE WHO NEED HELP NEED IT NOW, NOT WHEN IT SUITS YOUR SCHEDULE.]**
"Fair point," Krishna conceded. He grabbed his school uniform from where he'd draped it over his chair. "Guess I'm going hero-hunting today."
***
## **First Need: The Weight of Invisible Burdens**
St. Xavier's High School buzzed with its usual morning chaos. Students clustered in the courtyard, trading gossip and last-minute homework answers. Krishna moved through them with new awareness, the System's presence sharpening his perception of the world around him.
He noticed things he'd never paid attention to before. The way Priya from 10-C flinched when anyone raised their voice, even in laughter. How Aarav always ate lunch alone, earbuds in, avoiding eye contact. The small hierarchies and cruelties that formed the invisible architecture of teenage social life.
But the System remained silent. No prompts, no identification markers.
*So I have to figure this out myself,* Krishna realized. *It's not just about seeing people in trouble—it's about seeing the right people. The ones who genuinely need help.*
First period was Mathematics with Mrs. Kapoor, a stern woman who believed that the only path to enlightenment ran through differential calculus. Krishna sat in his usual spot by the window, half-listening to the lecture while his enhanced perception swept across the classroom.
That's when he noticed Ravi.
Ravi Malhotra sat two rows ahead—a quiet boy who'd always been in Krishna's peripheral vision without ever quite registering. Average student. Few friends. The kind of person who moved through school like a ghost, neither troublemaker nor star pupil, just... there.
But today, Krishna saw him clearly. Really saw him.
Ravi's uniform was clean but worn, the collar frayed, the hem of his pants let out multiple times. His shoes were polished to within an inch of their life, clearly maintained with obsessive care because they needed to last. His notebook was filled with neat, careful handwriting—the kind that came from someone who couldn't afford to waste pages with mistakes.
None of this was unusual for a middle-class Mumbai family. But it was Ravi's hands that caught Krishna's attention. They trembled slightly as he wrote, and when Mrs. Kapoor asked him a question, the boy's face went pale with something that looked like more than simple academic anxiety.
"Ravi? The answer to question seven?"
"I... I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't complete the homework."
Mrs. Kapoor's expression hardened. "This is the third time this week. Is there a problem?"
"No, ma'am. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't. Detention after school today."
Ravi's face crumpled for just a moment—a flash of devastated panic quickly suppressed. To everyone else, it probably looked like the normal reaction of a student facing detention. But Krishna saw something deeper. Something desperate.
**[SYSTEM: INDIVIDUAL IDENTIFIED. DISTRESS LEVELS: MODERATE BUT CHRONIC. CORE ISSUE: MULTIFACETED. PROCEED?]**
*Yes,* Krishna thought immediately. *But how do I help someone when I don't even know what's wrong?*
**[OBSERVATION FIRST. UNDERSTANDING PRECEDES ACTION. TRUE DHARMA REQUIRES WISDOM, NOT MERELY GOOD INTENTIONS.]**
Krishna waited until lunch break, then followed Ravi at a discrete distance. The other boy didn't head to the cafeteria like most students. Instead, he went to the library—the oldest, quietest section where few students ventured—and pulled out a worn textbook that clearly wasn't for any of their current classes.
Curious, Krishna moved closer, using the bookshelves as cover. From his vantage point, he could see what Ravi was studying: advanced accounting principles and business management. Textbooks for commerce students preparing for competitive college entrance exams.
But Ravi was in the science stream. These weren't his subjects.
Krishna watched as Ravi studied with fierce concentration, his lips moving as he worked through practice problems, his fingers flying across a calculator he'd borrowed from the library. The boy studied like someone running out of time, like every minute was precious and couldn't be wasted.
Then Krishna noticed the slip of paper being used as a bookmark. It was a job application—partially filled out, for an accounting clerk position at a small firm. The kind of job a college graduate would take, not a high school student.
Understanding clicked into place. And with it, the System pulsed.
**[CORE ISSUE IDENTIFIED: ECONOMIC PRESSURE FORCING PREMATURE LIFE DECISIONS. SUBJECT ATTEMPTING TO ABANDON EDUCATION FOR IMMEDIATE EMPLOYMENT. LONG-TERM CONSEQUENCES: SEVERE. THIS IS A CHOICE MADE FROM NECESSITY, NOT DESIRE.]**
Krishna's chest tightened. This wasn't a problem he could solve with enhanced strength or sharp perception. This required something else entirely.
He stepped out from behind the bookshelf. "Ravi?"
The other boy jumped, slamming the textbook shut and shoving the job application into his bag with panicked haste. "Krishna? What are you—I wasn't doing anything—"
"Relax," Krishna said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. He moved closer and sat down across from Ravi at the study table. "I'm not here to bust you for studying during lunch. I do want to talk to you, though."
Ravi's eyes darted toward the exit, clearly calculating his escape route. "About what?"
"About why you're applying for jobs when you should be preparing for board exams."
The color drained from Ravi's face. "You... how did you..."
"I'm observant," Krishna said simply. Then, more gently: "And I'm not going to tell anyone. But I do want to know what's going on. Maybe I can help."
"Nobody can help," Ravi said bitterly. "And I don't need charity."
"Good, because I'm not offering charity," Krishna replied. "I'm offering... information. Options. Maybe solutions you haven't considered. But first, I need to understand what you're dealing with."
For a long moment, Ravi said nothing. Krishna could see the war happening behind his eyes—pride versus desperation, fear versus hope. Finally, desperation won.
"My father had a heart attack three months ago," Ravi said quietly, his voice hollow. "He's recovering, but he can't work anymore. Not the same way. He was a taxi driver—twelve-hour shifts, six days a week. Now he can barely manage four hours, and the doctor says even that might be too much."
Krishna listened without interrupting.
"My mother does tailoring from home, but it's not enough. My younger sister is in eighth standard—she needs books, uniform, fees. And me..." Ravi's hands clenched into fists. "I'm in tenth. This is the year that matters. Board exams. But I can't... we can't afford for me to just study. The family needs money *now*, not two years from now when I finish twelfth and maybe get into a decent college."
"So you're planning to drop out after tenth," Krishna said. "Take this accounting job."
"It pays eighteen thousand a month. That's... that's more than my father makes now. With my income and whatever he can manage, we'll survive. My sister can finish school. That's what matters."
"And what about you?"
Ravi's laugh was bitter. "What about me? I'm the eldest. This is what eldest sons do. We sacrifice so the family survives."
Krishna felt something stir in his chest—not the System, but something older, deeper. A memory that wasn't quite a memory, an echo of divine understanding filtering through his sealed consciousness.
*Dharma,* he thought. *But whose dharma? The son's duty to family? The individual's right to their own future? How do you honor both?*
To be continue.