MY GAME BEGINS Episode 4 / Chapter 4: The Truth, Atonement, and Redemption (Part 2: Arrival of the Father of Falsehood, the Kali Yuga Purusha, and Srinivasulu's Test of Faith)

MY GAME BEGINS

Episode 4 / Chapter 4: The Truth, Atonement, and Redemption

(Part 2: Arrival of the Father of Falsehood, the Kali Yuga Purusha, and Srinivasulu's Test of Faith)

Left entirely alone in the quiet confines of the suite, Srinivasulu stared down at his pale hands, now back in his real form, no longer in Ren’s form.

For the first time, he let his false posture collapse, allowing his true self—the lost, desperate soul of Srinivasulu—to surface.

Guilt pressed down on his chest like a lead weight.

He pictured their eyes from moments ago: Aira’s tear-stained face, Jin’s awkward apology, Rose’s quiet relief, Kaito’s forced cheer, and Chief Rai’s silent vigilance. All of them came back to his mind.

The silence inside his own head had grown deafening, heavy with a single, agonizing question that turned over and over in his mind:

They genuinely love Ren.

Aira, Rose, Kaito, Jin, Chief Rai... every single one of them would lay down their life for him without a second thought.

"I lied to every single one of them," he thought, his throat tightening.

"They think they are giving their hearts to Ren... but it’s me they’re trusting. I’m hiding behind his face."

"Is this why my divine grace vanished?"

"Did I lose the divine power—the boon Lord Venkateswara granted to me—because I am deceiving these pure souls? Is this my punishment for what I am doing?"

He swallowed hard, pressing his palms flat against the mattress.

"No. I have to!"

Refusing to accept total powerlessness, he closed his eyes and focused himself to summon the five sacred Cards.

Light shimmered in the air before him.

Five glowing, ethereal cards materialized, hovering in a soft crescent directly above his bed:

A sharp, warm breeze rippled through the sealed room.

The air shimmered above his bed as five glowing cards, levitating in a semicircle.

The first radiated a cool, pearl-white glow—the manifestation of Lord Shweta Varaha Murthy, bestowed upon him by Tirupati Adi Varaha Swamy.

Beside it hummed a scorching crimson flame—the glorious Ugra Swaroopam, bestowed upon him by Ahobilam Narasimha Swamy.

The third glowed with majestic sapphire light—the Andhra Vallabha form, bestowed upon him by Srikakulam Andhra Maha Vishnu.

The fourth crackled with saffron electricity—the form of Gudimallam Parasurameswara, bestowed upon him by Gudimallam Parasurameswara.

Finally, hovering at the center, burned a blinding golden radiance—the Divine Hunter form, bestowed upon him by Lord Venkateswara Himself.

They floated within arm's reach, humming with quiet power.

Srinivasulu reached out his right hand, his fingers trembling as he tried to grasp the Divine Hunter card.

The moment his fingertips approached, all five cards simultaneously flinched backward through the air as if rejecting him.

Srinivasulu froze, his arm outstretched in midair.

Cold realization washed over him.

It wasn't a fluke.

It wasn't an accident.

Am I truly walking off the path of Dharma?

The golden brilliance dimmed to a faint, cold flicker.

Srinivasulu pulled his hand back, his heart slamming against his ribs.

Cold sweat broke across his forehead as the five divine cards disappeared.

"It wasn't a coincidence during the battle," he realized, horror dawning over him.

"The Divine Forms are rejecting me."

"You can't touch them," a low, sibilant voice echoed through the room.

Srinivasulu flinched and jerked his head toward the shadowy corner of the suite, careful not to pull the IV line taped into his left hand.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, his voice thin against the silence.

“Show yourself!”

In the corner, shadows began to detach from the wall.

Tendrils of thick, pitch-black smoke curled outward, creeping across the marble floor.

The room shuddered violently.

The glass pane of the IV bottle rattled against its metal hook.

Before Srinivasulu could react, the dark mist surged forward, smothering the sunlight and swallowing every inch of space in a suffocating gloom.

On Ren’s study desk, framed depictions of Susanoo-no-Mikoto and Amitabha Buddha wobbled violently before crashing face-down onto the table’s surface.

Srinivasulu's heart hammered against his ribs.

Srinivasulu reached toward his nightstand, his trembling fingers grasping for his phone—the lock screen bearing a glowing image of Lord Venkateswara.

The moment his fingers brushed the glass, the screen flickered, the battery icon drained from full to zero in a fraction of a single second, and the display went pitch-black, completely dead.

As Srinivasulu’s panic spiked, the black smoke fed on his fear, swelling in density.

It scaled the walls like living ink, creeping across the ornate Greek mythology Renaissance-style frescoes painted along the ceiling.

The dark mist consumed the depictions of Athena and Artemis, smothered Apollo and Heracles on the large walls.

It crawled across the high ceiling, covering the image in which Hera and Zeus sat together on their throne, finally blotting out the magnificent mural of Zeus holding a thunderbolt among the clouds right above Srinivasulu.

Trapped in his bed beneath the growing shadow, Srinivasulu gasped for air, his lungs refusing to expand.

"Help!" Srinivasulu cried out, his voice raw as he gripped the sheets.

"Somebody help me!"

"Shh," the voice purred from the darkness, smooth and mocking.

"No one can hear you. No one is coming into this room."

Srinivasulu swallowed hard, his throat dry as bone.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

The black fog in the corner began to churn, coiling inward until it condensed into a solid silhouette.

The black fog coalesced in the corner of the room, swirling tightly until it materialized into a solid human shape.

Step by step, the figure descended until its polished black shoes touched the marble floor.

Srinivasulu’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

Standing before him, dressed in a sharp, tailored black suit, was an exact duplicate of Srinivasulu himself.

"Who... who are you?" Srinivasulu stammered, pulling the blanket tight against his chest.

The man smiled—a hollow, eerie expression.

"I am.... “I am the one who resides inside everyone’s heart—the architect of human desire, the sculptor of illusions, the master of ambition.”

His smile widened.

“Simply put, my friend… I am you.”

Srinivasulu struggled to keep his composure.

“I don’t know who you are or what you are. But what do you want from me?”

“Relax,” the man said smoothly, taking a slow step forward.

“I haven’t come to harm you. I came to talk.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“To offer you a deal, a lifetime settlement. Shall we talk?”

“Talk about what?” Srinivasulu asked.

The intruder put on a look of exaggerated pity, tilting his head.

"About your tragic life, Srinivasulu. Your utterly miserable life."

"What's wrong with my life?!" Srinivasulu shouted.

"You genuinely don't see it?"

The duplicate shook his head, letting out a soft sigh.

"You prayed with all your devotion, begging your Lord Venkateswara to make you a hero—to pull you out of obscurity.”

“You wanted to live comfortably in this world as a hero, taking Ren’s place, enjoying his wealth, his status, and the affection of these people.”

“A simple wish, wasn’t it?”

And what did your beloved Lord do?

The man chuckled—a dry, hollow sound.

“And yet, here you are.”

“You think your Lord answered your prayers out of love?”

“He trapped you.”

He granted your prayer, only to shackle you!

He handed you divine powers, then slammed down endless rules of righteousness and virtue—robbing you of your freedom!

“He gave you power, yes, but He bound you with chains of conditions.”

“Live with righteousness. Walk the path of Dharma. Protect the innocent.”

The stranger scoffed.

“Absurd, hypocritical conditions!”

“He stripped away your freedom while pretending to grant your wish.”

Tell me, Srinivasulu... is it truly a gift if you're forbidden from using it how you see fit?

“He tricked you, Srinivasulu.”

“He handed you powers designed to make you fail.”

Your Lord is a fraud! A fake god!

Srinivasulu's eyes flared red with fury.

"Shut your mouth!"

"How dare you speak of my Lord like that!

If I wasn't trapped in this bed, I would destroy you with my bare hands for uttering such blasphemy!"

"Oh, calm down srinivasulu!," the entity scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.

"Deep down in your heart, you know I am telling the truth."

You felt that bitter sting of betrayal when those cards flew out of your reach.

Why hide it?

Your Lord Venkateswara is nothing more than a fraud."

“I said shut up, you scum!”

"He is the Father of Lies!" the man thundered, his voice warping into something demonic.

"Your Lord Venkateshwara is a false god who plays with the lives of his devotees!

A heartless and lifeless stone idol!"

A silent, unfeeling idol, playing games with the lives of mortal fools!”

Srinivasulu clapped his hands tightly over his ears, tears of rage and frustration spilling down his cheeks.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut your mouth!!"

"Hari... Hari... Venkateswara," he whispered desperately, clinging to the sacred name.

The entity smirked.

"Still chanting His name after everything?

Why don't you see you worship a idol that locked you in darkness?

Leave that darkness behind and step into my light, Srinivasulu.

I demand no righteousness.

No Dharma.

No conditions.

No restrictions."

The man stepped right up to the edge of the mattress, leaning down until their faces were inches apart.

"Your Lord says, 'You have freedom, but your actions have consequences in the form of Karma.'

But I say to you: in my light, your actions have no consequences, no Karma!

You can take whatever you desire."

With a flick of the man’s wrist, five dark corrupted cards materialized in the air beside him, pulsing with an oily, corrupt aura.

Within the dark borders of the cards, terrifying visages flickered to life:

The relentless malice of Hiranyaksha.

The monstrous pride of Hiranyakashipu.

The tyrannical fury of Kartavirya Arjuna.

The dark wrath of Nishumbha.

And finally, an apocalyptic form of shadow—Kali Yuga Purusha Himself.

"Look at these powers I intended to give you," the man whispered, his eyes gleaming with dark intent.

“Boundless. Unchecked.”

"Take them.

“If you join me, they are yours.

If you walk my path, you will have absolute freedom.

No conditions, no rules.

“No moral tests. No restrictions. No fear of losing your power.”

“Once they are in your hands, you can use them however you please.”

Destroy Aira’s love for the real Ren.

Take Rose for yourself.

Marry her, claim Chief Rai’s organization, inherit all their wealth and power, and rule supreme in this world!"

The entity leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a smooth, seductive hum.

"Why should you care that your real parents and family are suffering in your world?

Why should you care if poor Aira’s heart breaks and her life is ruined?

All that matters is your victory, Srinivasulu.

Fulfill your dream.

If anyone stands in your way, crush them without mercy.

Your life can be absolute perfection.

All you have to do... is abandon that lifeless stone idol.

Reject Venkateswara.

Accept me as your only god.

Accept me as your king.

Recognize me as the Supreme Lord of this Kali Yuga."

The entity threw his arms wide, tilting his head back in triumph, awaiting Srinivasulu's surrender.

In the heavy silence that followed, a low, steady murmur rose from the bed.

"Om Namo Venkateshaya...

Om Namo Venkateshaya..."

The man's eyes snapped open.

Srinivasulu sat upright in a cross-legged yoga posture, his eyes closed, his breathing calm, endlessly repeating the sacred chant.

"Stop that!" the entity snarled, a flash of genuine agony crossing his face.

“You’re making a big mistake, Srinivasulu!”

“Stop chanting that!”

Srinivasulu kept chanting.

“Om Namo Venkatesaya…”

“Om Namo Venkatesaya…”

Red, burning rashes began to break out across the entity's skin, smoke rising from his black suit as if his flesh were being scorched by invisible flames.

"Stop it, Srinivasulu! I order you to stop!" he screamed, his voice dissolving into a monstrous, gut-wrenching roar.

“Shut your mouth!” he roared, his voice distorting into a demonic screech.

Srinivasulu opened his eyes, staring directly into the burning face of the demon.

Without breaking rhythm, he began to recite the sacred Venkateswara Stotram:

"Kamalākucha chūchuka kunkumato

Niyatāruṇi tātula nīlatanō |

Kamalāyata lōchana lōkapatē

Vijayībhava Vēṅkaṭa śailapatē ||"

"Sachaturmukha ṣaṇmukha pañchamukha

Pramukhā khiladaivata mauli maṇē |

Śaraṇāgata vatsala sāranidhē

Paripālaya māṁ vṛṣa śailapatē ||"

With every sacred syllable spoken, the entity shrieked in agony, his physical body blistering, disintegrating, and melting back into raw, chaotic darkness.

Srinivasulu glared at the writhing mass of corruption.

"I know who you are!

By the holy name of Lord Venkateswara, reveal your true form, Father of Falsehood... Kali Yuga Purusha!"

With a deafening roar of rage, the fake Srinivasulu completely dissolved.

The black smoke violently expanded, towering up to the ceiling as the true, ancient embodiment of the Kali Age began to coalesce into its terrifying, demonic form.

(End of Episode 4 / Chapter 4 Part 2)