Chapter 2: The Trinity of Need
A new interface bloomed in Krishna's mind, sharp and crystalline.
**[TASK 1 INITIATED: "THE TRINITY OF NEED"]**
**Objective:** Identify and assist three individuals facing challenges.
**Parameters:** Assistance must be genuine and address the core of their problem.
**Reward:** 30 Karmic Points. Unlocks 1 (Unknown) Skill.
**Progress:** 0/3 Individuals Identified.
Krishna blinked, his mind still buzzing from the morning's awakening. The words hovered in his consciousness like a heads-up display in a video game, except this was real. Terrifyingly, thrillingly real.
*Three people. I need to help three people.*
The midday sun blazed overhead as Krishna walked home from school, the streets alive with chaos—honking horns, street vendors shouting, motorcycles weaving through traffic. The mundane world felt different now. Sharper. More vivid. His enhanced senses picked up details he'd never noticed before: the rhythm of footsteps, the quality of voices, the subtle shifts in the air.
He was still processing this when it hit him.
A sound—sharp, desperate, piercing through the urban noise like a blade. A child crying. Not the ordinary whining of a spoiled kid, but something deeper. Terror.
Krishna's head snapped toward the sound. His feet were already moving.
**[SYSTEM: Individual identified. Emotional distress detected: SEVERE. Objective: Locate source and provide assistance. Progress: 1/3.]**
He found the source in a narrow alley between two buildings. A small boy, maybe five years old, stood frozen against the wall. His clothes were torn, dirt streaked across his face, and his eyes were wide with panic.
"Where's Mumma?" the boy sobbed, his voice cracking. "I want Mumma!"
Krishna approached slowly, crouching down to the child's eye level. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here to help. What's your name?"
The boy hiccupped, tears streaming down his cheeks. "A-Aarav."
"Aarav, that's a good name. I'm Krishna. Can you tell me what happened? Where did you last see your mother?"
"The market," Aarav whispered, his small hands trembling. "There were so many people. I was holding her hand, but then—then someone pushed, and I let go. I tried to find her, but I got lost. I've been looking everywhere!"
Fresh tears spilled over. The child was on the verge of complete breakdown.
Krishna's enhanced senses kicked in. He noticed details others would miss—the boy's clothes were clean beneath the dirt, well-made. The shoes were new. This was a child from a decent family, not a street kid. The mother would be frantically searching for him.
"Aarav, listen to me," Krishna said gently but firmly. "Your mother is looking for you right now. She's probably very close. But we need to be smart about this, okay? If you keep wandering, you might go farther away from her."
The boy nodded, still sniffling.
Krishna pulled out his phone. "Do you know your mother's phone number?"
Aarav shook his head miserably. "I'm only five. Mumma says I'll learn it when I'm older."
Krishna thought quickly. "Okay. Do you remember what your mother was wearing?"
"A blue saree. With flowers."
"Good. And do you remember which part of the market you were in? What shops were nearby?"
Aarav's brow furrowed in concentration. "There was... a shop with lots of bangles. Shiny ones. And Mumma wanted to buy vegetables after."
The vegetable market section. Krishna knew it—about three blocks from here. But taking a lost child through crowded streets could be dangerous, and the mother might have already moved elsewhere searching.
He made a decision. "Aarav, I'm going to make you famous for a few minutes, okay? We're going to find your mother fast."
Krishna lifted the boy gently, setting him on his shoulders so he'd be visible above the crowd. Then he raised his voice—not shouting, but projecting with surprising power.
"Lost child! Five-year-old boy named Aarav! Looking for his mother in a blue saree with flowers! Anyone who knows this child's family, please help!"
People turned, startled. Some ignored them and kept walking. Others stopped, curious.
Krishna began walking purposefully toward the market area, continuing his call. "Lost child Aarav! Mother wearing blue saree! Please help reunite them!"
An elderly woman approached. "Poor child. Check near the police booth—mothers always go there when they lose their children."
A shopkeeper pointed. "I saw a woman in a blue saree running around frantically about ten minutes ago. She went toward the temple side."
Krishna adjusted his direction, following the lead. His enhanced hearing picked up something—a woman's voice, high-pitched with panic, calling out a name.
"Aarav! Aarav, where are you? Please, someone help me find my son!"
"Did you hear that?" Krishna asked the boy on his shoulders.
Aarav's head perked up. "Mumma! That's Mumma!"
Krishna moved faster, weaving through the crowd toward the voice. And then he saw her—a woman in a blue saree with flowers, her hair disheveled, mascara running down her face as she desperately showed people a photo on her phone.
"Excuse me!" Krishna called out. "Ma'am! Is this your son?"
The woman's head whipped around. Her eyes locked onto Aarav.
Time seemed to freeze for a heartbeat.
Then she screamed—not in fear, but in pure relief—and ran toward them. Krishna quickly lowered Aarav from his shoulders, and the moment the boy's feet touched the ground, he bolted into his mother's arms.
"Mumma! Mumma!"
"Aarav! Oh god, Aarav!" She crushed him against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. "I thought—I thought someone took you! I was so scared!"
She looked up at Krishna, her eyes red and swollen. "Thank you. Thank you so much. How did you—where did you find him?"
"He was in an alley about three blocks from here," Krishna said gently. "He was very brave. He remembered details that helped us find you."
The woman stood on shaking legs, still clutching her son. She fumbled in her purse. "Please, let me give you something. A reward. You saved my child."
Krishna shook his head. "No need, ma'am. Just... maybe teach him your phone number? For next time?"
She laughed through her tears, a sound of pure relief. "Yes. Yes, I will. First thing when we get home."
**[SYSTEM: Objective 1/3 complete. Individual assisted. Core problem addressed: Lost child reunited with guardian, immediate danger averted, family bond restored.]**
Krishna felt that subtle warmth spreading through his chest again—the sensation of rightness, of purpose fulfilled.
He nodded to the mother and child, then continued on his way. One down. Two to go.
***
The small park was a shortcut Krishna often took—a patch of green struggling to survive amid concrete and chaos. He'd walked this path hundreds of times without really seeing it.
But today, his enhanced senses caught something.
A child's voice, high and desperate. "Please, someone help! My sister—she can't breathe!"
Krishna's head snapped toward the sound. His feet were already moving.
A young boy—maybe ten years old—stood beside a bench where a girl lay gasping. Her lips were turning blue, her chest heaving with the effort of drawing air that wouldn't come. Her hands clutched at her throat in universal panic.
Anaphylaxis. The word surfaced in Krishna's mind with startling clarity. How did he know that?
**[SYSTEM: Individual identified. Medical emergency detected. Distress levels: CRITICAL. Time-sensitive situation. Objective: Provide immediate assistance. Progress: 2/3.]**
A small crowd had gathered—again, watching more than helping. A woman was on her phone, presumably calling for an ambulance. A man stood frozen, hands hovering uselessly.
"Does anyone have an EpiPen?" Krishna called out, his voice cutting through the panic. "Has she been stung by something? Does she have allergies?"
The boy looked up, tears streaming down his face. "She's allergic to bee stings! She got stung, and now—she can't breathe!"
Krishna knelt beside the girl, his mind racing with impossible speed. No EpiPen. Ambulance minutes away—maybe five, maybe ten. The girl didn't have ten minutes.
His enhanced body, the System's first reward, had sharpened more than just his physical abilities. His mind worked faster, clearer. Medical knowledge he'd never formally learned seemed to surface from nowhere—or perhaps from somewhere deeper.
*Elevate her legs. Keep her calm. Monitor breathing. Clear the airway.*
"What's her name?" Krishna asked the boy, his voice steady.
"Priya. She's Priya."
Krishna leaned closer to the girl. "Priya, listen to me. I need you to stay calm. I know it's hard, but panic makes it worse. Breathe slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on my voice."
He positioned her carefully, elevating her legs to improve blood flow. His fingers found her pulse—rapid, thready, but present. He checked her airway, making sure her tongue hadn't blocked it.
The woman with the phone rushed over. "The ambulance is coming! Ten minutes!"
Ten minutes felt like an eternity. Priya's breathing was growing shallower.
Krishna closed his eyes briefly, reaching inward to that new presence—the System. *Help me. There must be something I can do.*
And then he felt it. The warmth from his body strengthening—it could be directed. Not much, not enough to heal completely, but maybe enough to stabilize her. To buy time.
Acting on pure instinct, Krishna placed his hand over Priya's chest, just above her heart. He focused that subtle internal warmth, that vitality, and willed it outward.
It was like opening a tap—a gentle flow of energy moving from him to her. Not dramatic. Not flashy. Just... helping. Supporting her body's fight against the allergic reaction.
Priya's breathing steadied slightly. The blue tinge to her lips faded, just a fraction.
The minutes crawled by like hours. Krishna kept talking to her, keeping her conscious, keeping her focused. The boy held his sister's hand, his own panic subsiding as he watched this stranger work with such calm certainty.
**To be continued.**