Sound came before sight.
Deep, resonant chants echoed like waves crashing against stone. Bells rang in rhythmic harmony, accompanied by the low hum of conch shells. The air felt heavy—thick with incense, silk, and authority.
Arya felt it before he understood it.
A heartbeat.
Slow. Powerful.
Then another.
Pain followed—not sharp, but overwhelming. His lungs burned as if they were being torn open from within. Instinct took over, and he cried.
The cry of a newborn echoed through the vast halls of Mahismati.
"He breathes!"
"The prince lives!"
A thousand voices overlapped in joy and relief. Arya's mind, however, was frighteningly clear.
So this is birth… again.
He could not see yet, but he could feel—strong arms lifting him, soft fabric wrapping around his body, warmth replacing the chill of whatever world he had come from.
And beneath it all—
Power.
Not personal power. Not yet.
But the weight of legacy.
Mahismati was not a gentle kingdom.
It was an empire forged through blood, conquest, and unyielding rule. Its palaces were built of dark stone and gold, its banners crimson and black. Every brick carried the memory of wars won and enemies crushed.
Arya was born at its heart.
"The Crown Prince has arrived!"
The announcement thundered through the palace corridors, carried by messengers who dropped to one knee as they ran. Ministers abandoned councils. Generals halted drills. Priests raised their hands in reverence.
In a single breath—
The future had changed.
Arya's vision slowly sharpened.
Blurred shapes resolved into towering pillars carved with ancient symbols—lions, suns, tridents. Firelight danced along golden walls. Above him loomed faces filled with awe, devotion, and calculation.
Calculation was important.
He remembered that from Kaliyuga.
Power invites loyalty… and hunger.
A figure stepped forward.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His presence alone silenced the room.
The King of Mahismati.
Arya did not know his name yet, but he felt it—the authority that pressed down on everyone present. This was a man accustomed to obedience.
The king took the child into his arms.
The moment it happened, something shifted.
The air grew heavier.
Warmer.
Almost… alive.
The king frowned slightly.
"He is strong," he murmured. "Unnaturally so."
The chief priest stepped forward hurriedly, sweat dripping down his temples.
"Your Majesty, the omens are… unprecedented."
The priest raised a golden plate etched with celestial diagrams. It trembled in his hands.
"The stars aligned at the moment of his birth. Mars burns bright. Jupiter shields. And the Sun—"
He swallowed.
"The Sun watches."
A ripple of unease passed through the court.
Arya listened quietly.
So even now… the heavens are paying attention.
[Birth Event Registered]
Location: Mahismati Royal Palace
Status: Crown Prince – Confirmed
The familiar neutral voice echoed in his mind.
[Dharma System Online]
Initializing Early-Life Observation Mode
Arya resisted the urge to react.
So the system doesn't sleep.
The queen reached out.
Her hands trembled as she touched Arya's cheek, eyes glistening with emotion. She had endured years of war, political marriages, and loss—but this child broke through every wall.
"Our son," she whispered.
Arya felt something unfamiliar stir within him.
Attachment.
He had lived one life without parents. Now, suddenly, he had too many eyes watching him, too many expectations pressing down.
Careful, he warned himself. Attachment can become weakness.
But he did not pull away.
Not yet.
The days that followed passed in a strange haze.
Arya slept, fed, and cried like any infant—but inside, his mind observed everything.
Mahismati was a military state.
He learned this quickly.
Even from the nursery, he could hear the clang of steel, the shouted commands of soldiers drilling endlessly. Generals came and went, their discussions filled with words like borders, supply lines, and enemy movements.
This kingdom did not rely on diplomacy.
It relied on dominance.
Equal to Kuru Rajya, Arya thought. No… potentially greater.
That knowledge settled heavily.
If he played this right, Mahismati would not be a pawn in the Mahabharata.
It would be a player.
[Observation Complete: Political Environment Analyzed]
[Minor Reward Granted]
Royal Awareness (Passive – Locked)
Enhances understanding of authority, hierarchy, and command structures.
Unlock Condition: First Command Issued.
Arya exhaled slowly.
The system rewards patience.
Good.
He had learned that lesson the hard way in Kaliyuga.
Weeks turned into months.
Arya's body grew rapidly—faster than normal, though subtle enough to avoid suspicion. His grip was strong. His gaze unsettlingly focused.
Servants whispered.
"The prince watches like an adult."
"His eyes… they don't wander."
"He doesn't cry unless he wants something."
The king noticed too.
One evening, as torchlight flickered across the chamber, the king held Arya before a massive map carved into the stone floor.
"This land," the king said quietly, as if speaking to himself, "must never kneel."
Arya stared at the map.
Borders. Rivers. Mountains.
Future battlefields.
The king's grip tightened slightly.
"Remember this, my son."
Arya met his gaze.
I will.
The first test came sooner than expected.
A minister arrived late one night, panic etched across his face.
"Your Majesty," he said, kneeling. "The eastern province reports unrest. A noble has begun hoarding grain. The people are starving."
The king's jaw tightened.
"Treason disguised as greed."
He turned away, already deciding punishment.
But Arya felt it.
A subtle pull.
A pressure in his chest.
[Dharma Sense – Minor Activation]
A sensation spread through Arya's mind—not words, but weight.
He could feel it.
The suffering of the people.
The fear of revolt.
The opportunity for justice—or cruelty.
It was faint.
Incomplete.
But real.
Arya frowned slightly.
So this is how it works…
The king spoke coldly.
"I will make an example."
The minister nodded eagerly.
Execution.
Arya's small hand moved without conscious thought, gripping the king's finger tightly.
The room fell silent.
The king looked down.
Their eyes met.
For a moment—just a moment—the king hesitated.
Not because of mercy.
But because something in his son's gaze felt… wrong.
Too aware.
Too steady.
The king exhaled slowly.
"Investigate first," he said at last. "If the noble acted alone, confiscate his wealth. Feed the people."
The minister blinked.
"But… Your Majesty—"
"Do it."
The matter was settled.
Arya relaxed his grip.
[Decision Influenced – Indirectly]
[Dharma Evaluation: Balanced Justice]
[Reward Granted]
Karmic Stability +1
Future moral actions have reduced backlash.
Arya felt it—a subtle easing of pressure around his soul.
So even silence can be a choice.
Interesting.
That night, as Arya lay beneath silk covers, the system spoke again.
[Notice]
Your existence has already altered minor fate threads.
Major fate nodes remain dormant.
Arya stared at the ceiling.
Mahabharata hasn't even begun…
And yet—
The ripples were already spreading.
He clenched his tiny fist.
"This time," he whispered, voice barely audible even to himself, "I won't wait until the battlefield to act."
Outside, the fires of Mahismati burned brightly.
And somewhere far away—
Destiny shifted again.