Power had a sound.
Sometimes it roared like thunder.
Sometimes it whispered like a river changing course.
And sometimes—
It traveled quietly, carried by rumors that refused to stay small.
By the time Krishna turned a little older, stories of Vrindavan had spread far beyond forests and fields. Traders spoke of a boy who lifted a mountain. Travelers laughed nervously about demons that vanished without battles. Pilgrims mentioned a village untouched by famine, fear, or sorrow.
Kings listened.
In Mathura, Kamsa smashed a goblet against the floor.
"Lies," he snapped. "Peasants exaggerate."
Yet his fingers trembled.
A minister hesitated. "My king… even Indra withdrew."
Silence followed.
Kamsa's laughter was thin. "Send spies."
Across the land, envoys moved.
Krishna felt every step.
The system chimed gently one morning as he played the flute near the Yamuna.
«Global Awareness Active.
Information Stream: Real-Time.
Foreign Surveillance Detected: Mildly Incompetent.»
Krishna smiled, eyes still closed.
"Let them watch."
Radha sat nearby, braiding flowers into a garland. "Who's watching now?"
"Kings," he replied.
She didn't look surprised. "It was bound to happen."
"They won't find what they expect."
"They never do," she said fondly.
That afternoon, a group of richly dressed men arrived in Vrindavan. They spoke politely, bowed respectfully, and asked far too many questions.
Nanda welcomed them cautiously.
Krishna observed from a distance.
Their thoughts were loud.
Fear.
Greed.
Curiosity.
One of them finally approached Krishna directly.
"Young one," he said, forcing a smile. "Do you know who rules this land?"
Krishna tilted his head. "The cows?"
Laughter erupted from the villagers.
The envoy stiffened.
"I mean the king."
Krishna shrugged. "He hasn't visited."
The system chimed cheerfully.
«Diplomatic Deflection Successful.
Confusion Level: Optimal.»
That night, the spies reported back.
"He is… impossible to assess."
Kamsa crushed the report in his hand.
"He cannot be allowed to grow."
Elsewhere, wiser kings reacted differently.
In Hastinapura, elders exchanged glances.
"A balance," Bhishma murmured. "The world shifts toward something… steady."
Back in Vrindavan, life remained peaceful.
Krishna trained quietly—not in secret, not in display. He practiced archery by the river, wrestling with friends, studying scriptures he already knew by heart.
The system provided gentle reminders.
«Skill Refinement Ongoing.
Power Suppression: Voluntary.
Dharma Index: Stable.»
Radha watched him spar one evening.
"You're holding back."
Krishna smiled. "Always."
"Why?"
"Because the world doesn't need me to prove myself."
She nodded. "Only to protect it."
"Exactly."
A messenger arrived days later—not a spy.
A prince.
Polite. Respectful. Nervous.
He bowed deeply. "I seek guidance."
Krishna listened.
The man spoke of border disputes, unjust taxes, and the fear of becoming cruel in the name of rule.
Krishna responded simply.
"Rule like a caretaker," he said. "Not an owner."
The prince left changed.
The system chimed.
«Passive Influence Detected.
Dharma Correction via Advice: Successful.»
Vrindavan remained untouched.
But the world around it began to realign.
Krishna lay beneath the stars that night, Radha beside him.
"The game is starting," she said quietly.
Krishna smiled. "No. The board is finally visible."
Far above, Mahadev watched, amused.
So did Vishnu.
The balance had chosen its place.
--chapter 21 ended--