My Game Begins Prologue: The Day My Life Changed (Part 1)

 My Game Begins

Prologue: The Day My Life Changed (Part 1)

"Welcome! Welcome, one and all!"

Some often say that the mortal life bestowed by the Almighty is a profoundly bizarre phenomenon. But in truth, this divine gift isn't inherently strange at all—it only becomes an incomprehensible maze when humans, in their infinite folly, twist and tangle it themselves!

This is the chronicle of a young man who possesses everything a normal person could ask for, yet breathes every single day with an unshakeable void in his chest. A college freshman who constantly laments, 'My life is a miserable wreck, while some unknown stranger out there is living the ultimate dream.'

His name is Srinivasulu.

And I? I am the celestial sage, Devarshi Narada.

Shall we dive into the grand cosmic play?

Narayana! Narayana!

Srinivasulu... if one were to look at his life on paper, he lacked absolutely nothing. Hailing from a sprawling, ancestral home in a lush village, backed by a large, deeply rooted family, he had migrated to the relentless concrete jungle of the city solely for his higher education. His daily existence operated like a flawless, mechanical pendulum: attending college under the morning sun, and retreating at dusk to a luxurious four-star apartment, meticulously arranged and paid for by his father.

He was a man of very few words. He walked like a phantom through the bustling crowds—quietly moving to his destinations, silently finishing his tasks, and retreating into the absolute solitude of his four walls. Even on the second Saturdays and long Sundays, he remained a recluse, safely locked away from the world. He was a boy of immense faith, a rare trait in his generation. He celebrated the festivals with unwavering devotion, waking up at the crack of dawn to fold his hands in deep reverence to Lord Venkateshwara. He performed his daily rituals without fail, yet, at the end of every prayer, a bitter whisper would escape his lips: "God... why is my life like this?"

He was the kind of person who had a flawlessly smooth, undisturbed life, yet spent every waking hour agonizing over an invisible, missing puzzle piece.

Now, you tell me—is it his life that is peculiar, or is it his very mindset that has been warped?

I know what you are wondering: Where is this boy right now?

Look down. Let your gaze pierce through the atmosphere, plunging just a little further down into the mortal realm. Ah... there he is, standing right in the heart of that sprawling metropolis!

"Narayana! Narayana!"

[2050 – A futuristic sprawl in Andhra, near the southern banks of the Godavari River]

The omniscient view of the cosmos plunges downward, tearing violently through the thick, grey canopy of clouds to reveal a breathtaking, hyper-advanced metropolis. Colossal skyscrapers made of reflective glass and steel pierce the heavens, while magnetic-levitation bullet trains streak across elevated tracks like flashes of urban lightning. The streets are a rushing river of humanity, millions of souls hurrying back to the warmth of their homes after a grueling day of labor. Among this infinite sea of faces, blending perfectly into the background, walks a college student: Srinivasulu.

He slowly lifts his wrist, his eyes locking onto the glowing digital interface of his watch. It reads 4:30 PM.

A heavy, exhausted sigh escapes his chest. 'By the time I drag myself back to that empty apartment, it will be six in the evening. Is this even a life?' he mutters, the sheer frustration radiating from his slumping shoulders as he steps into the crowded, metallic belly of the metro train.

After a blur of stations and echoing announcements, he steps off into the twilight and trudges toward his premium rental room. The heavy security door hisses open, welcoming him into a sterile, quiet luxury. He mechanically steps into the shower, washing away the grime of the city, before shuffling into the kitchen to prepare his evening meal. The moment the last bite is swallowed, he collapses onto his plush living room sofa, staring blankly at the massive, dark screen of his television, letting the sheer weight of his exhaustion pin him down.

Suddenly, the sharp, shrill ring of his smartphone shatters the absolute silence of the room. He glances at the screen and reluctantly answers.

"Hey, Srinivasulu! How are you holding up, man?" Ravi’s voice booms through the speaker, echoing in the quiet apartment.

Srinivasulu rolls his eyes, a dry scoff escaping his lips. "Well, look who finally remembered me! It took you this long after I moved to the city, Ravi? I guess I’m just a friend in name only. Ever since I left the village, my parents are the only human beings who have bothered to check if I’m still breathing. Did the whole village just suffer from mass amnesia, or did you guys just assume I dropped dead?"

"Oh, come on, don't be dramatic!" Ravi laughs it off, entirely unfazed. "Everyone’s just drowning in their own chaotic lives, man. Anyway, how’s the city treating you? Honestly, I don't even know why I'm asking. Your dad literally rented you a luxury four-star apartment just so you could study in peace! You must be living the absolute dream out there. I swear, nobody has parents quite like yours."

Srinivasulu’s grip on the phone tightens, a spike of pure irritation flaring in his chest. "Living the dream? You think I’m enjoying this? If you stepped into my shoes for just one day, you’d realize real quick whether this is a luxury vacation or a polished hell!"

Ravi goes silent for a second, taken aback. "Whoa, where is this coming from?"

"Where is it coming from?" Srinivasulu snaps, the dam of his pent-up frustration finally breaking. "Back in the village, I had a massive house filled with my huge joint family, noise, and life! Here, I am completely, utterly alone. I have to drag myself out of bed at four in the morning. By the time I shower, get ready, and cook my own breakfast and lunch, it’s already pushing seven. Then, I have to sprint like a madman to catch the metro between seven and eight just to make it to class. College finally spits me out at four-thirty, and by the time I navigate through this concrete maze and reach my room, it’s five-thirty. I cook dinner, force it down my throat by eight-thirty, and then I have to bury my head in assignments and prep work until eleven at night. And then? I close my eyes, just to wake up at four in the morning and do the exact same thing all over again!"

He takes a deep, ragged breath, his voice dropping into a hollow whisper. "I don't know a single soul at that college. I don't know anyone in this neighborhood. I don't talk to anyone. I go, and I come back. That’s it. That is the entirety of my existence. I am trapped in an endless, suffocating loop. It feels like I’ve been thrown into a maximum-security prison, Ravi."

"Alright, alright, man," Ravi replies, his tone softening with pity. "But at least you get the second Saturdays and Sundays off, right? You can chill then."

"And do what?" Srinivasulu retorts bitterly.

"I take the money my parents send, walk to the nearest hypermarket, buy my groceries, and walk back. I'm not the kind of guy who roams the streets aimlessly. So yeah, I spend my weekends locked inside these exact same walls."

"Look, just take it easy," Ravi suggests. "They’re posting all those free, high-budget animation shows on a channel nowadays with Telugu dubs. Just kick back on the sofa, watch a few episodes, and enjoy yourself."

If Srinivasulu was annoyed before, he is absolutely livid now. "Ravi, for the love of Gods, I am already hanging onto my sanity by a thread. If I watch those abominations, my soul will actually leave my body! You call that a Telugu dub?! That’s not Telugu! It sounds like an extraterrestrial species crash-landed on Earth and is aggressively trying to mimic our language with broken vocal cords! Honestly, I could probably decipher the ancient dialects of our Andhra Satavahana empire from thousands of years ago (1st century BCE) much easier than whatever this is. You have to rewind it twice just to figure out what noun they are trying to pronounce!"

He rubs his temples, the headache pounding behind his eyes. "I don't have the patience or the mental endurance for it. I thought, 'Hey, maybe I’ll just ignore the atrocious audio and appreciate the beautiful animation.' But no! They keep picking the cheapest 'reborn into another world' fantasy series they can find, slap a horrible Telugu dub on them, and expect us to enjoy them. It’s an absolute tragedy, Ravi. Every time I think the year 2050 couldn't get any stranger, I see things like this and realize it's even worse for me than I thought!"

Srinivasulu looks away from the dark TV screen, his gaze shifting to the sacred corner of his room. "Let me tell you, there are exactly two reasons I am still surviving in this city. First, the deep, spiritual peace I get from waking up every morning to perform my pooja for Lord Venkateshwara, rigorously following the rituals during the festivals, and reading our sacred texts in Telugu. And the second..."

He leans forward, pulling open a sleek, futuristic drawer under his console, revealing a stack of high-end holographic game cases. "...is the new RPG I just bought. Wait, let me read the title."

He pulls out a glowing, metallic case. "It’s called 'The Chosen One'. It’s a massive gaming franchise, and I think they even adapted it into an animation series. Rather than torturing myself with those butchered dubs that disrespect our beautiful language, I find my ultimate relief by reading the holy scriptures, praying to the Lord, and spending my weekends escaping into this game."

Ravi sighs on the other end. "Just hang in there, bro. Grind through these three years, and your life will be set and peaceful. Besides, you’ll be coming back to the village for the major festivals anyway—Sankranti, Navaratri, Ugadi, and the village jatara carnivals. Don't stress too much. I’ll come down to the city and visit you sometime."

"I’m not stressed, Ravi. I’m just... incredibly lonely, that's all. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye," Ravi replied.

The call disconnects, plunging the room back into its heavy, suffocating silence. Srinivasulu slowly rises from the sofa and walks toward the glowing, garland-draped portrait of Lord Venkateshwara resting on his shrine.

He stares into the divine, compassionate eyes of the deity, a profound sadness washing over his face.

"Where is the justice in this, Swami?" he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and despair. "Look at the hero of this game... look at Ren. His life is an absolute masterpiece! Why couldn't I have a life like that, instead of this hollow shell of an existence? If I had his life... waking up to be the cool, admired hero by day, and transforming into an unstoppable warrior fighting demons by night with his friends. What an incredibly grand, adventurous destiny!"

He bows his head, the weight of the world resting on his young shoulders. "My life is nothing but a golden cage. Just once, Lord... just give me his life. Give me his destiny, and my entire world would be perfect."

With that final, desperate plea, he turns away from the shrine and collapses onto his bed. Staring blankly up at the white ceiling, his heavy eyelids slowly begin to flutter, the sheer exhaustion of his monotonous life pulling him down into the dark embrace of sleep.

(The cinematic view slowly pans away from the sleeping boy, floating silently across the room before rapidly zooming in, stopping inches away from the majestic, towering portrait of Lord Venkateshwara. The golden aura around the deity's face seems to flare with a sudden, blinding brilliance.)

The moment that mortal boy uttered that naive wish, the wheels of a grand, divine theatrical play were set into motion.

And that's when... I arrived.

"Narayana... Narayana"

(End of Prologue - Part 1)