Devta Bhakt System: Rise of the Divine Protector
Tagline: When the world rejects him, the oldest power of the universe will choose him. The epic journey of an ordinary teacher to becoming the protector of gods
Chapter 2: The Price of Awakening
Suraj hadn't slept yet.
He was simply lying on his hard bed, holding an old, cheap smartphone. His eyes, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling, were heavy with the day's exhaustion. The house was silent, but the noise of the market and the principal's scolding still echoed fresh in his mind.
In that very moment—
Without any warning, the air in front of him suddenly trembled.
There was no explosion. No blinding flash of light. It just felt as if words began to emerge on an invisible curtain in the dark room. Cold, large blue letters floated in the air, their faint glow casting shadows across Suraj's tired face—
[Devta Bhakt System initializing.]
Suraj's fingers instinctively tightened around his blanket. His breath caught in his throat for a fraction of a second. The next line emerged on the screen—
[Binding… Initiated.]
[10%… 25%… 40%…]
This was no dream. The sensation was too clear, too real. He remained perfectly still, but his heart began to pound against his ribs.
[45%… 60%… 75%…]
His gaze flickered for a moment to the phone in his hand. What if all this... is a delusion? What if my exhaustion is just playing tricks on my mind?
[90%… 99%…]
Suddenly, the blue light intensified slightly. The room's temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. And then—
[100% - Binding Successful.]
Along with it, a freezing current started from his forehead and surged through his entire body. There was no pain. It merely felt as if something ancient and incredibly heavy had settled deep within his soul, forever.
At that exact moment, a transparent, blue holographic screen fully materialized in front of him. Neither entirely solid, nor an illusion. It was simply there. Something in the air had fundamentally changed. On the screen, some columns were clearly visible, some were blurred, and others were completely greyed out.
Then, a cold, mechanical, and emotionless voice echoed directly in his mind—
[Host's past compiled. Synchronization with the Divine Authority Group complete. Say 'Status' to view information.]
Suraj looked at his own palms, illuminated by the screen's blue glow. Everything was normal. Taking a deep breath, he whispered softly.
"Status."
The interface shifted instantly.
[Host Profile]
Name: Suraj
Age: 22
Race: Human
Current World: Mortal Realm
Condition: Ordinary (Locked)
[Core Attributes]
Strength: 0
Agility: 4
Intellect: 5
Mind: 3
Magic: 0
[Authority Level]
Divine Weapons: None
Planet Authority: None
Universe Authority: None
[Devotee Statistics]
Male Devotees: 0
Female Devotees: 0
Temples Built: None
Suraj's eyes scanned each row. None. 0. Zero. For anyone else, this score would be a cruel joke. But Suraj didn't mind this emptiness. It wasn't an end; it was the beginning of a list. It was as if the system was clearly stating—whatever you lack right now, is exactly what will be counted tomorrow.
His gaze dropped to the other options available at the bottom.
Status, Avatar, Devotees, Shop, Lottery.
None of these options were opening on their own. They were just present—like shadows of the future he didn't have permission to touch yet.
"System," Suraj asked, keeping his voice perfectly steady. "What is your actual purpose?"
That cold voice echoed directly in his mind again—
[The objective of this system is to make even the Gods your Devotees.]
For a split second, Suraj forgot to blink. Gods... and their devotees?
Hearing this should have terrified him. But strangely, his soul, crushed for years, couldn't bring itself to reject the idea.
At that moment, a red warning flashed on the screen—
[External device detected in Host's hand. Synchronization required.]
Suraj's heartbeat spiked. What if this phone goes away? It's my only connection to the outside world. Then he reasoned with himself—If I was meant to be afraid, this blue screen would never have opened for me.
"Yes," he stated firmly.
In the very next second, the phone in his hand shattered into blue pixels and vanished into the air. Suraj's fist was left empty.
[Synchronization Successful. All host applications transferred to the System Space. Mental entry into any story, game, or realm is now possible.]
Suraj stared at his empty hand for a while. Then, with a mental command, he closed the screen. The blue light vanished, and the room sank back into its suffocating darkness. But the emptiness inside him was now filled. He remembered a trope from the stories he used to read—every system gives a starting reward.
"Where is my novice gift?" he asked into the darkness.
The screen instantly returned.
[Novice Gift Pack obtained. Open?]
"Yes."
The air began to swirl in a circular motion, as if centuries-old knowledge was taking physical form.
[Congratulations, Host. You have received:]
1. Chaos Body (Inactive)
2. Cooking Skill (Mastery Level)
3. Void Sword (Capable of slaying immortals)
4. 1,000 Devta Bhakt Points
5. Basic Arts (Speech, Walking, and Painting - Mastery Level)
That knowledge merged directly into his brain. There was no pain. No pressure was felt. It was as if a fog that had clouded his mind for years had cleared in an instant. The muscles in his hands didn't grow, but their memory changed. Without holding a knife, he instinctively knew the perfect angle to slice a vegetable.
The screen slowly began to fade. A final message appeared—
[Unused items will remain secure in the System Space. You can summon or dismiss them mentally.]
Suraj took a deep breath. He had absolutely no idea that the real test was about to begin inside this very house.
Just then, piercing through the thin wooden door, his mother's voice echoed—
"Suraj! Give me the phone right now!"
Suraj's body stiffened slightly. His mother's voice wasn't just loud this time; it was heavy. A voice that held the absolute authority of the household.
He didn't move from his place. He knew no explanation was going to work now.
The door was yanked open. His mother walked in with quick, heavy steps. There was no question in her eyes, only a predetermined verdict. "Give me the phone."
Suraj offered no response. The phone was no longer in his hand; it had digitized into his soul. He just gave a slight shake of his head.
"I don't have it."
For a moment, his mother stopped. It wasn't a peaceful pause. It was the terrifying silence before a storm.
"What did you say?" Her voice grew sharper. "Now you're lying too? You've learned how to make excuses?"
Suraj remained silent. His silence acted like oil on a blazing fire.
"See?!" His mother threw her voice out toward the courtyard. "He stays glued to the phone day and night, and now he's hiding it! Listen to him! His father! Come here! Let's settle this today!"
Within moments, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. His father entered the room, looking first at his wife, then at Suraj. "What happened?" His voice carried the exhaustion and labor of the entire day.
"Ask him," his mother said. "He hid his phone. He's refusing to give it."
His father extended his rough hand toward Suraj. "Give the phone."
For the first time, Suraj looked directly into his eyes. There was no anger in those eyes. No complaint or rebellion. Just the same old habit of silently accepting everything.
"I don't have it," Suraj said in a flat tone.
The room fell completely silent. The silence was so deep that the tick-tick of the old wall clock started sounding like hammer strikes.
His mother let out a harsh laugh. "Wow. Straight up lying now." Then she spoke in a low, venomous tone. "Either you take it from him, or there's definitely going to be a fight in this house today."
His father stepped forward, patting down Suraj's pockets. He glanced at the bed, looking under the scattered books. He found nothing. His eyebrows furrowed. "Where did you keep it?" A strictness had now entered his voice.
Suraj's heart was beating fast, but the muscles on his face didn't twitch. "It's not here," he repeated.
For a second, his father paused too, as if he found something strange. But his mother instantly broke that moment of hesitation. "This is exactly why he's spoiled. You always protect him."
His father took a deep breath and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine. We will look into this later."
His mother fell silent, but her silence was brimming with unsaid complaints. Both of them left the room, and the door clicked shut.
Suraj quietly pulled the blanket up over his head. Darkness. Silence. It felt as if the world had simply stopped around his bed. The air inside the blanket was slightly heavy.
At that exact moment—the air trembled slightly in the darkness.
The transparent, blue screen automatically opened in front of him.
[Change in environment detected. Host is under mental pressure. System Adaptation active.]
The status reloaded. A new line was added at the bottom.
[Special Body: Chaos Body (Secured in System Space — Inactive)]
Suraj's breath hitched slightly. So this body was right here, but it wasn't active. It was as if the system was reminding him—getting power and handling that power are two very different things.
As soon as the question arose in his mind, the screen replied instantly.
[The Chaos Body is incompatible with the current body. Careless synchronization could result in mental disintegration, physical instability, or personality erosion.]
Suraj swallowed dryly. He wanted power, but he didn't want to lose himself.
Not yet, he said in his mind.
[Decision recorded.]
Just then—a sharp voice came from the courtyard outside.
"What is he muttering?"
It wasn't his mother's voice. It was his sister, Kanak Priya. She was sitting at the table outside, her notebook open in front of her. The pressure of preparing for the police exam, and the irritation born from that pressure, was clear in her voice.
"Who is he talking to alone in that room?" she said in a frustrated tone.
Before Suraj could process that, his other sister, Bhanumati, jumped in.
"Yes, Didi," Bhanumati said. "I heard him too. He must have definitely hidden the phone."
Under the blanket, Suraj's fingers slowly curled into fists. His sisters' words weren't questions. They weren't suspicions. They were judgments.
He knew—in this house, the truth didn't matter. Here, the only thing that mattered was whose side you were standing on. And in this house, he was completely alone.
Suraj closed his eyes. The darkness under the blanket grew even deeper. But in that darkness, one thing became absolutely clear—
This house would never listen to him.
And now... he didn't need them to listen anymore.