The Principal's Office—a glorified storage room two days ago—was now a functional command center, thanks entirely to Shraddha Singh. She worked with terrifying speed, clearing cobwebs, setting up a borrowed wooden table as her administrative desk, and—most crucially—installing the single working telephone line. Her face, usually calm, was etched with fatigue and frustration as she stared at the ledger. Arjun, sitting across from her, felt a profound appreciation for her A-Rank Management aptitude. She was the anchor he desperately needed. "The debt servicing bought us time, Arjun, but not students. And not credibility," Shraddha announced, tapping the ledger. "We have ₹8,70,000 left. We need to reserve ₹50,000 for utilities and basic maintenance. That leaves us ₹8.2 lakhs for capital expenditure and a faculty salary. We can't attract anyone good with that budget."
Arjun smiled, activating his system in his peripheral vision. He needed to prove to her that the budget was secondary to the vision. "Shraddha, focus on the immediate need: a classroom for Rajesh. He starts tomorrow." He looked at the room adjacent to the office—a disused hall piled with broken desks. "I need that hall cleared, cleaned, painted, and ready for one working computer and one student by morning."
"That's impossible, Arjun. That room needs structural work, and we need to hire laborers, which costs—wait, what are you doing?" Shraddha stopped as Arjun subtly accessed the system interface.
[System]: Using ₹50,000 System Funds for: [Basic Classroom Restoration and Furnishing].
[System]: Labor and Material Subroutine initialized. Expected Completion: 06:00 AM, Tomorrow.
Arjun simply shrugged. "Consider it done. I know a contractor who works fast and accepts digital payments in advance." He knew this explanation was flimsy, but the visible, immediate result was what mattered. "Now, faculty. We need a Computer Science professor. Someone brilliant, unconventional, and currently available. I have a name: Dr. Rohan Verma."
Dr. Rohan Verma. Arjun remembered him from the history of India's Silicon Valley boom. Verma was the original pioneer of teaching C++ and data structures using real-world projects, rather than dry theory. He was the type of visionary the bureaucratic educational system of the early 2000s hated. He was recently forced out of a prominent state university for refusing to teach an outdated 1980s curriculum. Arjun knew that a teacher's spirit, like a student's aptitude, could be broken. He needed to ensure this was a salvageable mind.
They drove to a small public park where Arjun knew Dr. Verma spent his afternoons. They found him sitting alone, surrounded by discarded notes, looking like a man mourning a career. He was middle-aged, his clothes slightly crumpled, but his eyes, though tired, still held a sharp, frustrated intelligence. Arjun activated the [Aptitude Scanner].
[System]: "[Aptitude Scanner] activated. Scanning subject: Dr. Rohan Verma."
The data flashed:
Name: Rohan Verma
Age: 48
Aptitude - Academics (C.S.): B+
Aptitude - Teaching Pedagogy: A-
Aptitude - Bureaucracy Tolerance: F
Aptitude - Loyalty (to Mission): A
Status: "Highly valuable, severely undervalued. Seeking an environment of academic freedom."
A B+ Academic and A- Teaching Aptitude was a phenomenal find for their first hire. Crucially, the A-rank Loyalty meant he would stick with the Nalanda dream.
Arjun approached Dr. Verma alone, leaving Shraddha by the car. "Dr. Verma, I'm Arjun Singh, Principal of Nalanda University. I know why you left Patna Central. They demanded you teach FORTRAN when you were ready to teach Java. They wanted cogs; you wanted architects."
Dr. Verma stared at him, startled. "Who are you, boy? And how do you know what I was teaching? This is not public knowledge."
"I know because your methodology—your insistence on 'Object-Oriented Project-Based Learning'—is the future of Computer Science education," Arjun stated. He knew he sounded too young, too ambitious. He needed proof.
Arjun glanced at the system. He needed to demonstrate expertise in a field he had only casually skimmed. I need to sound like the greatest academic revolutionary he's ever met. He quickly accessed the System's knowledge cache on 21st-century education.
[System]: Host requesting rapid acquisition of 'Advanced Computer Science Pedagogy (2010-2020)'.
[System]: Activating [100x Feedback] for 45 minutes.
Arjun took a deep breath. Concepts, terminology, and statistical data flooded his mind: the pitfalls of lecture-centric models, the rise of collaborative coding, the need for teaching version control systems before they were mainstream. He saw the future of the field with crystalline clarity, not just the code, but the method of imparting it.
"Dr. Verma," Arjun continued, his voice now imbued with the authority of twenty years of future research, "Patna Central wanted you to use the 'Water-fall' teaching model. We, at Nalanda, will use the 'Agile-Scrum' model. For example, your current students are taught a concept, then they wait two weeks for a midterm. At Nalanda, Rajesh Kumar will learn basic data types and then immediately, in the same three-hour block, he will push a working piece of code—a 'sprint'—to a shared server. Every week, he builds on that code. His grade is not on a final exam, but on the quality and functionality of his final project. This forces immediate application and problem-solving."
Dr. Verma was now leaning forward, all cynicism forgotten. His breathing quickened. "Agile-Scrum… project-based… but how do you scale that? The administrative overhead of grading iterative projects—it crushes teachers. That's why the old system is easier."
"We scale it with technology and trust," Arjun countered, tapping into his System-granted knowledge. "We give you one dedicated teaching assistant for every twenty students, funded by our grants—future ones, of course. Your job is not to grade; your job is to mentor. You are not a lecturer; you are a Scrum Master. You guide them, let them fail fast, and iterate. And we will provide you with a cutting-edge curriculum that is three years ahead of the IITs, focused entirely on the internet boom that's about to hit India."
Arjun had just perfectly articulated Dr. Verma's secret professional manifesto, the one he thought no one would ever understand. The look on the doctor's face shifted from frustration to awe.
(Paragraph 4: The Offer and the System Progress - 1100 words)
"You're either a brilliant academic I've never heard of, or you're completely insane," Dr. Verma said, clutching his notes. "What is the catch? You're a university of one building, one administrator, and one student—who you admitted is an academic failure. You can't afford me. I was making ₹45,000 a month."
Arjun was ready for this. "We can't match that salary today, Dr. Verma. We can offer you ₹15,000, which is barely half. However, I can offer you two things worth far more than money: Academic Sovereignty and Equity."
He continued, his gaze unwavering. "At Nalanda, you run the Computer Science department. You write the curriculum. You select the equipment. You pioneer the Agile-Scrum Pedagogy in India. You will not have one day of bureaucracy. Ever. You will be teaching the brightest, most motivated S-Rank potential student in Bihar, Rajesh Kumar. And the equity: once we are accredited, every founding faculty member receives a 1% stake in the university's eventual profit-making ventures. Not its educational revenue, but the start-ups and research commercialization it generates. That 1% could make you a millionaire in less than five years."
Dr. Verma was stunned by the word equity. No educational institution in India, especially not a struggling one, talked about sharing potential commercial wealth with faculty. It was a revolutionary idea. He looked at the confident, young principal, whose eyes seemed to hold more vision than any academic council he had ever faced.
"I… I don't need the equity yet," Dr. Verma said, his voice husky with emotion. "I just need the freedom to teach. You said I would be teaching a future pioneer?"
"Rajesh Kumar," Arjun confirmed. "I guarantee his aptitude for logic and hardware is S-Rank."
"Then I accept the ₹15,000," Dr. Verma stated, standing up, his back suddenly straight. "But you must promise me one thing, Principal Singh: no bureaucracy. If I tell you we need a new server rack or a Linux lab, you must deliver."
Arjun extended his hand. "My word as Principal. Welcome to the new Nalanda University, Dr. Verma."
As their hands clasped, the System chimed:
[System]: "[First Step] Quest Progress: Faculty (1/1). Students (1/10)."
[System]: "Objective: 1 Faculty Member Achieved! Reward Issued!"
[System]: "Rewards: ₹20,00,000 System Funds, 2x Aptitude Voucher (D-to-C), [University Aura] unlocked (Passive ability: all enrolled students and staff receive minor, daily skill/aptitude boosts)."
A powerful, comforting wave of energy washed over the Nalanda University building (and, by extension, Arjun and Shraddha). The [University Aura] was now active.
[System]: "Due to Host's successful teaching intervention, [100x Feedback] applied to Dr. Verma's Academics (C.S.) Aptitude. Dr. Verma's self-study and curriculum development will now progress at 100 times the speed."
Arjun was elated. He had secured a visionary and, thanks to the aura, his teaching would only become sharper. He now had ₹28,60,000 in System Funds. He could hire more faculty, invest in more equipment, and still pay the debt comfortably.
He turned to Shraddha, who was watching the scene unfold with a mixture of disbelief and utter fascination. "See? Now we have a proper foundation. We have a star student, a star professor, and a classroom. All we need now are nine more pioneers."
Shraddha shook her head, a genuine, delighted laugh escaping her lips. "Nine more pioneers and twenty-eight days. Fine, Principal. Where do we find nine more of the world's quiet failures?"
"The public library," Arjun replied, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "Where the most curious minds hide from the world's demands." The next step was gathering the rest of his elite team.