MY GAME BEGINS Episode 4 / Chapter 4: The Truth, Atonement, and Redemption Part 8: Narada Gita to Srinivasulu (Part 3)

MY GAME BEGINS

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

Part 8: Narada Gita to Srinivasulu (Part 3)

On his knees on the cold floor, Srinivasulu looked up at Devarshi Narada through a veil of tears.

“I understand my sin now, Devarshi,” he sobbed, his voice cracking with unbearable remorse. “It stands before me as clearly and undeniably as my own reflection in a pool of still mountain water.

“Please... tell me how to atone! How do I free myself from this agony? Tell me what penance I must perform!

“Please, Devarshi... tell me!”

Devarshi Narada looked down at him, his expression an unreadable blend of boundless compassion and unyielding solemnity.

“Atonement exists, Srinivasulu,” the sage replied softly. “But do not mistake it for an easy path. Every action carries its weight in Karma, and the path of true penance is brutal.”

Srinivasulu’s eyes widened, his chest heaving as he waited for the sage’s words.

“Because of your foolish desire and reckless choices,” Narada continued, “the lives of many now stand on the precipice of utter ruin.”

Srinivasulu stared up at him in shock.

“You stole Ren’s face, stepped into his life, and threw his entire existence into chaos,” Narada said, his voice echoing with absolute authority.

“You diverted him from his destiny, tampered with the cosmic framework of this realm, and placed his closest friends—and this very world—in grave peril.

“You sought only your own comfort, your own selfish happiness, and your own heroic fantasy.

“You never once stopped to consider the devastating consequences rippling across your original world.”

Narada raised his right hand.

The ambient air in Ren’s room shimmered, and a tear in the fabric of space expanded into a luminous window of floating light.

The stark, celestial golden radiance emitted by the sage clashed against the cool tones of Ren’s room, illuminating the white marble floor where Srinivasulu knelt.

Inside the floating cosmic window, a live television broadcast from Srinivasulu’s real world flickered into view.

A news anchor sat behind a sleek desk, her voice grave.

“—reporting live on the mystery surrounding the sudden disappearance of Srinivasulu, a first-year college student who moved to the Maha Nagaram from the Konaseema region.

“Authorities confirm he vanished from his city apartment late last night without a trace.”

The broadcast cut to a video feed of a quiet home back in Konaseema.

Srinivasulu’s mother sat in a large armchair, her face pale, her cheeks soaked with tears as she wept openly before the news cameras.

His father sat beside her, his hand resting heavily on her trembling shoulder, his own eyes red and rimmed with held-back grief.

Srinivasulu scrambled to his feet, staring at the screen in horror.

“Amma (Mom)... Nanna (Dad)...” he choked out, hot tears pouring down his face.

On the screen, his mother held up a framed photograph of Srinivasulu, her voice breaking into hysterical sobs.

“If anyone out there knows where my boy is... please, I beg you! Send my son back home!”

“Amma!” Srinivasulu cried out, falling back onto his knees.

He extended his trembling, blood-stained left hand toward the vision, desperate to reach through the light, but his fingers met only empty air.

“Nanna! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

The news broadcast shifted to a phone-in interview with his childhood friend, Ravi.

A reporter held a microphone near a phone speaker.

“Yes,” Ravi’s voice echoed through the room, sounding strained and bewildered.

“Srinivasulu talked to me on the phone the night before he disappeared. He mentioned feeling deeply lonely... said he was getting tired of watching animations alone in his room.

“He spent most of his time reading sacred scriptures, performing his daily prayers, and occasionally playing video games.

“That’s all he told me.

“We haven’t met in person for months... we just talked on the phone once in a while.”

The news anchor reappeared on the screen, her expression solemn.

“Authorities and family members continue their search.

“This incident raises urgent questions:

Are young students succumbing to unbearable academic pressure? Or is the silent epidemic of youth isolation driving such heartbreaking vanishings?

“Officials urge parents to monitor their children closely.

“If you have any information regarding Srinivasulu’s whereabouts, please contact local authorities immediately.

“And Srinivasulu—if you are watching this broadcast from anywhere—please contact your family.

“Your parents are heartbroken.

“Praying for his safe return, this is YourNews TV.”

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Srinivasulu buried his face in his hands.

He slammed his right fist onto the cold white marble floor, the sharp impact ringing out through the quiet room.

“It’s my fault!” he screamed, his forehead touching the cold tile.

“I brought this upon them! It’s all my fault!”

Sage Narada looked down at the weeping youth, his divine patience unwavering.

“Now look, Srinivasulu,” Narada said softly, “at what your life was destined to become had you never made that foolish prayer to escape your reality.”

Narada waved his hand again.

The golden radiance flared, projecting a warm, vibrant timeline before Srinivasulu’s tear-filled eyes.

In the vision, Srinivasulu saw himself back in his Maha Nagaram (mega city) apartment.

The initial season of quiet loneliness slowly gave way to genuine human connection.

He watched himself open up, making loyal, lifelong friends at college.

He saw himself completing his degree with pride and returning home to his native village in Konaseema.

The scene shifted to a grand, bustling family courtyard.

The entire joint family was gathered—his parents beaming with pride, his grandparents from both his mother’s and father’s sides embracing him with tears of joy, surrounded by aunts, uncles, and cousins setting up a festive welcome party.

He saw himself securing a respectable job while simultaneously building a prosperous local business.

Step by step, through honest work and righteous living, he rose in society.

The vision moved forward, showing him marrying a kind, virtuous woman, her face glowing with genuine affection.

He saw their home filled with laughter as they raised three healthy sons, surrounded by the warmth, protection, and unconditional love of a massive, thriving joint family.

Srinivasulu’s eyes widened in utter disbelief.

He stared at the radiant future he had casually thrown away—a life rich with love, honor, and true fulfillment.

“And now,” Narada’s voice resonated, shifting the atmosphere of the room, “witness what Ren’s life was destined to be had you not intruded upon his fate.”

The window transformed, displaying the original timeline of the fantasy realm.

Srinivasulu watched as the real Ren fought side by side with Kaito, Jin, Chief Rai, Rose, and Aira.

Though their early battles against the demonic forces were grueling and perilous, their unyielding bond carried them through.

Together, they conquered every threat.

They completed their academy trials, grew into legendary figures, and brought peace to the Paradise City.

The vision settled onto a peaceful, sunlit home nestled in a quiet valley.

The real Ren and Aira stood together in the doorway of their modest house, smiling softly as their young son played in the front garden.

The scene shifted to an annual reunion party.

Ren, Aira, Jin, Chief Rai, Kaito, and Rose gathered around a large feast table with their respective families, sharing laughter, stories, and deep, unbroken camaraderie beneath a clear sky.

The vision shattered into motes of light.

Sage Narada’s voice thundered with divine authority, shaking Srinivasulu to his core.

“You took two separate realms, two peaceful destinies, and threw them both into ruin,” Narada declared, his voice heavy with cosmic truth.

“You disrupted the sacred balance of two realities, Srinivasulu.”

Srinivasulu wept silently, his tears pooling on the white marble floor beneath him.

“And look at what would happen,” Narada warned, his tone hardening, “if you succumbed entirely to the influence of Kali Purusha!”

The vision flared with a sickening crimson light, casting dark, terrifying shadows across the room.

Srinivasulu saw himself transformed into a towering, terrifying Asura Overlord.

Swirling black miasma radiated from his body.

Behind him loomed the massive, shadowy specter of Kali Purusha, smiling like a puppet master pulling invisible strings.

Before the feet of this demonic Srinivasulu knelt Jin, Chief Rai, Kaito, Rose, and Aira, bound in heavy dark chains, defeated and broken.

In his right hand, the demonic Srinivasulu held the severed, dripping head of the Shadow Lord.

Beyond them stood a legion of hundreds of thousands of dark Asura warriors, their roars echoing across a scorched wasteland.

“All Hail the Great Mahasura! Victory to Great Mahasura!”

Floating in an arc before the demonic Srinivasulu were five dark, glowing cards—not forged from the divine grace of Lord Venkateswara, but infused with the primordial, destructive essences of ancient cosmic demons.

- Hiranyaksha — The earth-shattering Asura of golden eyes, radiating dark, tectonic fury.

- Hiranyakashipu — The immortal tyrant of anti-divine malice, blazing with blood-red energy.

- Kartaviryarjuna — The thousand-armed conqueror of absolute dominion.

- Nishumbhasura — The merciless dark conqueror of cosmic warfare, dripping with shadowy corruption.

- Kali Purusha — The sovereign avatar of universal strife, deceit, and moral decay.

The dark version of Srinivasulu threw his head back and laughed maniacally, his voice blending with Kali Purusha’s dark chuckle.

The real Srinivasulu recoiled in utter terror, his blood running cold as the vision vanished into thin air.

“No... no...” he gasped, trembling violently.

“On the day of the battle at the shrine,” Narada explained gravely, “when you died and were brought back.

“Because you were not the real Ren, the cosmic alignment fractured.

“The Shadow Lord—an entity that draws power from human corruption—was meant to be destroyed that day by the real Ren.”

Narada waved his hand, showing the true turn of events.

The real Ren, driven by righteous fury, unleashed his Demon Lord transformation.

Fighting alongside Jin, Chief Rai, Kaito, Rose, and Aira, Ren absorbed the dark demonic energy surrounding the shrine, destroyed the beast, and drove the sharp horn protruding from his right shoulder directly through the Shadow Lord’s heart, ending his threat forever.

“But because you stood in his place,” Narada revealed, “the Shadow Lord survived.

“He escaped that day, and even now, he gathers power in the shadows to unleash a far greater catastrophe upon this world.

“All of this stems from the chaos you created.”

Srinivasulu gripped his head, his chest heaving with desperate, clawing agony.

“Stop! Please, Devarshi, I can’t take any more!” he wept, crawling forward and grabbing the hem of Narada’s saffron robes.

“Bring the real Ren back! Send me home to my real world! Grant me peace! Grant me liberation! I beg of you!”

Narada looked down at the trembling boy.

Slowly, he reached out and placed his palm gently atop Srinivasulu’s head.

“Calm your heart, my child,” Narada said softly.

“I possess the power to transport you, but true redemption cannot be handed to you on a silver platter.

“It must be earned through your own choices.”

Srinivasulu lifted his tear-stained face.

“How? Tell me what to do!”

“There is only one path,” Narada declared, his voice resonant and pure.

“You must step into the light of absolute truth.

“You must stand before Jin, Kaito, Chief Rai, Rose, and Aira, and confess everything.

“You must strip away the stolen face of Ren and reclaim your identity as Srinivasulu.”

Srinivasulu gasped.

“Confess to them? How... how can I ever do that, Devarshi?”

“Truth is the supreme reality,” Narada replied, his eyes glowing with divine brilliance.

“Truth is God, and God is Lord Venkateswara Himself.

“To accept the truth is to embrace Lord Venkateswara.

“Confessing your identity to those you have deceived is your only true freedom.

“It is the sole key that will free you from your Karma and grant you true liberation.

“Do you understand now? That is your only path to freedom.”

“My duty was to reveal the path to you, Srinivasulu.

“Whether you have the courage to walk it rests entirely in your hands.”

With a soft cosmic chime, the divine light flared once and vanished.

The room returned to silence.

Srinivasulu remained kneeling alone on the white marble floor, his mind spinning in the quiet stillness.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by frantic footsteps echoing outside.

The door swung open, and Aira hurried into the room.

She froze at the threshold.

Srinivasulu knelt on the floor.

Dark red blood dripped steadily from his bare left forearm where he had ripped out the IV line, pooling onto the white marble tile beneath him.

“Ren!” Aira cried out, her face turning pale.

She rushed to his side, dropping to her knees.

Seeing the dark crimson blood staining his skin, tears instantly filled her eyes.

“Are you out of your mind?! Why did you pull out your IV?!”

She grabbed his right arm and helped him pull himself up off the floor, guiding his weak body onto the edge of the mattress.

Frantically reaching over to the nightstand, she pulled out a wad of sterile cotton and pressed it firmly against the puncture wound on his forearm.

“Look at how much blood you’re losing!” she scolded, her voice shaking with panicked affection as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Why would you do something so foolish?!”

Srinivasulu blinked, slowly coming back to his senses as he felt the warmth of her trembling hands.

“I... I’m sorry, Aira,” he muttered quietly, looking down at his bleeding arm.

“I had a terrible nightmare... I pulled my arm in my sleep and ripped it out by accident.”

“You idiot,” Aira sobbed, her fingers pressing the cotton tightly against his skin to stop the bleeding.

“You scared me to death!”

Srinivasulu watched her weep over him.

He gently wiped a tear from her cheek.

Looking at Aira’s tearful eyes, a heavy, quiet realization settled deep within his soul.

Don’t cry, Aira, he thought, his heart aching with a profound, unselfish sadness.

I see everything clearly now. I won’t let you suffer any longer. I promise you... I will bring your real Ren back to you.

Gently, Srinivasulu reached out with his right hand and placed it over hers.

“Don’t cry, Aira,” he said softly, his voice firm and steady.

“I am going to fix everything.

“I will make sure everything returns to the way it was meant to be.

“This is a promise from Srinivasulu to you.”

Aira looked up, her tear-filled eyes searching his face.

Misinterpreting his solemn tone as a declaration of devotion to her, a wave of relief washed over her face.

Unable to contain her emotions, she leaned forward and threw her arms tightly around his neck, hugging him close to her.

Srinivasulu froze.

His arms hung suspended in mid-air, hovering inches away from her back.

His hands twitched slightly, his fingers trembling, but he refused to let them touch her.

He did not wrap his arms around her.

He did not pat her back.

He did not let a single inch of his skin initiate contact.

As she held him tightly, resting her head against his shoulder, Srinivasulu stared blankly past her into the empty air of the room, his body rigid, his heart guarded by the boundary of truth.

He simply sat there, acknowledging that he had no right to hold the girl who belonged to another man’s soul.

He stared quietly into the distance, his heart resolved to face the truth.

---

(Episode 4 / Chapter 4: Part 8 — Part 3)