Days turned into weeks, and Vishu's world grew smaller with every passing moment. The blank screen remained etched in his mind, haunting him as though it was a constant reminder of his failure. His mother's comforting words, though well-meaning, now felt like empty echoes in the back of his mind. "Your ability will come," she had said. But Vishu knew better now. His ability had already come, and it was nothing.
At first, he tried to believe her. He told himself that maybe it was just a delay, that the system would finally recognize him and grant him something, anything. But as the days turned into a week, and then two, Vishu started to question everything. The hope he once had, the belief that things would work out, slowly withered away under the weight of the reality he had been forced to confront.
The whispers started soon after. At first, they were just quiet rumors that spread through his neighborhood. The people who once greeted him with friendly nods now gave him sympathetic looks, followed by hushed conversations when he passed by.
Vishu heard them. They thought he didn't notice, but he did.
"Did you hear? Vishu didn't get any ability on his 18th. Can you believe that?"
"No abilities at all? That's… unheard of."
"Poor guy, must be so embarrassing for his family."
The words were like daggers in his chest. His family, who had always treated him with love and care, now faced those same whispers. They, too, were treated as if they were somehow at fault for his lack of power. They tried their best to shield him from the hurt, but Vishu could see it in their eyes — the disappointment, the silent sorrow they tried so hard to hide.
Vishu, unable to bear the stares and the judgment, found himself retreating further into the confines of his home. Every day became a struggle, and the once familiar world outside now felt alien, filled with judgment and ridicule.
His father tried to comfort him in the evenings, offering encouraging words, but Vishu could see the worry lines deepening on his father's face. It was as if the world was closing in on them, and no one seemed to understand that it wasn't Vishu's fault.
But it didn't matter.
The world had its rules. Everyone was supposed to have an ability. Everyone was supposed to be something. But Vishu? He was nothing.
The treatment from others became unbearable. Children in the neighborhood would point at him, laugh, and mock him openly, no longer hiding the cruel truth of his situation. Adults, too, looked at him with pity, their glances filled with unspoken words.
And then came the taunts.
"Vishu, the failure."
"Guess you didn't get the gift, huh? Maybe you're just not worthy."
The words struck harder than anything else. They began to drown out his mother's encouraging words, to drown out his father's reassuring smiles. Vishu didn't know how much longer he could take it. He didn't want to face the world anymore.
One night, after being ridiculed by a group of older boys in the market, Vishu locked himself in his room. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall. He didn't want his family to see how much it hurt.
And so, he stayed in his room. Day after day, night after night. The world outside continued to spin, but Vishu had stopped listening. His room had become his sanctuary, a place where he could hide from the cruelty of the world.
It had been a month since his 18th birthday.
The screen still hadn't changed.
Every time he closed his eyes, the blankness followed him. It mocked him, reminding him of his failure. And yet, deep down, Vishu wondered if he was the one to blame. Maybe if he had done something differently… Maybe if he had been better, more worthy, the system would have granted him an ability.
His thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper into self-loathing. He no longer cared about the world outside. He didn't care about the dungeons or the towers. He didn't care about abilities or skills or ranks. All that mattered now was the gnawing emptiness that consumed him from the inside.
The only thing that kept him from ending it all was the love of his family. His mother's face, filled with unwavering concern, and his father's silent strength. They had never given up on him. But Vishu couldn't help but feel like he was a burden, like he was holding them back from living their lives the way they deserved.
And so, he stayed locked in his room, his only companion the oppressive silence. He didn't want to face anyone. He didn't want to be reminded of how different he was, how much of an anomaly he had become.
The world outside was a place where everyone had something. Everyone had a role to play, a purpose to fulfill. But Vishu? He was nothing.