In the bustling city of Delhi, where the constant noise of traffic.
Kailash Varuna sat in a moderate one-bedroom apartment that could barely be called a home.
Piles of empty instant noodle cups and half-drunk bottles of soda spread across the small desk where his laptop glowed faintly.
The blue light of the screen reflected off his glasses as he stared blankly at the latest chapter of the Webnovel he'd been reading for hours.
His eyes, though open, were glazed over.
The words passed through his mind, but the story barely registered.
It was just noise now, just something to drown out the silence of his empty life.
Kailash, 25 years old, orphaned since he was 16, had been living off the last of his parents' inheritance.
It wasn't much, but it had lasted long enough to sustain his degenerate lifestyle.
He had dropped out of college, convinced that it was a waste of time, especially when he could lose himself in the endless worlds of cultivation Webnovels.
He didn't need real life when there were stories of people rising from nothing, becoming gods through sheer willpower.
He chuckled to himself bitterly. "Willpower," he thought. "If I had any of that, I wouldn't be wasting my life in this sh*thole."
Another day passed in his monotonous existence.
The only excitement in Kailash's life was waiting for new Webnovel chapters to drop.
He had no friends, no job, no real ambition.
His daily routine consisted of waking up in the late afternoon, eating the cheapest food he could find, and then immersing himself in Webnovels until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.
Today, though, something different was calling at him, a faint echo of something he hadn't felt in years.
It wasn't motivation or desire, no.
It was more like a heavy weight pressing on his chest, a sense that his life was slipping through his fingers like sand.
He wasn't even living anymore, just existing.
And somehow, somewhere deep inside, he hated it.
As he scrolled through his favorite Webnovel forums, a post by one of the most popular Webnovel authors, Clautic, caught his eye.
The title was simple but direct "Touch Grass, You Degenerates."
The post was a rant, Clautic had gone off on a tangent, calling out his readers for living like hermits, glued to their screens, doing nothing with their lives.
Clautic's words stung more than Kailash expected.
"You can't just read about cultivation, heroes, and adventure all day and do nothing with your own life," the post read. "Go outside. Touch some grass. Maybe then you'll actually live a little."
Kailash stared at the post for a long moment, the words burning into his mind.
"Touch grass," he muttered under his breath, mocking the phrase.
But then something clicked.
Maybe it was anger.
Maybe it was the fact that Clautic, a random stranger on the internet, was right.
Kailash had spent years reading about fictional characters growing stronger, facing challenges, and becoming legends, while he himself hadn't moved from his computer chair in what felt like a lifetime.
With an exasperated sigh, he pushed himself away from the desk.
"Screw it," he mumbled to himself. "I'll touch the damn grass."
He hadn't left the apartment in days, and the sunlight burned his eyes as he stepped outside.
The streets of Delhi were as chaotic as ever, with cars honking, people yelling, and the scent of street food filling the air.
Kailash walked aimlessly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn-out jeans.
His hair was a mess, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look like he hadn't slept in weeks.
"This is pointless," he muttered, feeling his own weight dragging him down with every step.
He reached a small park not too far from his apartment, a patch of green amidst the concrete jungle of the city.
There, he saw the grass.
It looked ordinary.
Nothing magical about it.
He rolled his eyes at how ridiculous this whole situation was, but a strange sense of calling pushed him forward.
Kneeling down, he reached out and touched the grass, feeling the soft blades between his fingers.
He sighed. "There. I touched it. Happy, Clautic?"
But as soon as his fingers brushed the grass, he heard a soft hiss.
Startled, he looked down just in time to see a snake coiled in the shade of a nearby bush.
The snake's eyes gleamed with a wicked intelligence, as if it had been waiting for this moment for an eternity.
Before Kailash could react, the snake lunged forward with terrifying speed, sinking its fangs deep into the flesh (olo) between his legs.
"Fuck!" Kailash screamed, grabbing at the wound.
The pain was instant and excruciating, radiating through his body like wildfire.
His vision blurred as he stumbled backward, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. "A snake... what the hell?!"
The snake hissed, almost in satisfaction, before retreating into the shadows, leaving Kailash writhing in pain.
His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the venom coursing through his veins.
Panic gripped him, and he staggered to his feet, desperately trying to move, to find help, to do anything, but before he could take a single step, the sound of screeching tires filled his ears.
A car, a sleek, black Porsche came speeding down the street at an alarming speed.
Kailash's head whipped around just in time to see the car's license plate, which read Pune Striker in bold letters.
His mind barely registered what was happening before the car swerved toward him, completely out of control.
There was no time to react.
The car slammed into him with a bone-crushing force, the impact sending him flying through the air like a ragdoll.
The world spun around him, and for a brief moment, everything slowed down.
His body was broken, and he knew, with terrifying clarity, that this was it.
As he lay on the cold, unforgiving pavement, his vision fading to black, Kailash's last thought wasn't of the life he wasted or the opportunities he missed.
No, his final thought was far simpler.
"Fuck you, Clautic."
And then, darkness.
The noise of the city faded, the pain disappeared, and everything went silent.
In that silence.
Kailash's miserable life on Earth came to an end.