The nightmare had faded, but it left behind a quieter, more ordinary problem: Vicky was failing his computer class.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
He sat in the cyber café, the dim screen bathing him in blue light, staring at a simple for loop that refused to make sense. The instructor had explained it, the book outlined it step by step, but the logic slipped right through him.
He could pull diamonds out of digital worlds…but he couldn't make a computer repeat "Hello World."
"Great," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Just great."
By the time he cycled home, the frustration had settled deep in his chest. The street felt heavier, the air thicker. And when he stepped into the house, the atmosphere confirmed his unease.
His father, Vikram, was home early.
That never meant anything good.
He sat on the sofa, a few bills spread out in front of him. His shoulders sagged, his expression tired.
Sneha came out from the kitchen, worry etched clearly on her face."Kya hua? Bank mein koi problem?"
"Same old." Vikram exhaled, long and tired. "Promotion phir se Sharma ke bete ko de diya. Experience ka reason diya."(They gave the promotion to Sharma's son again. Said it's because he has more experience.)
He tried to smile, but it looked like a mask slipping at the edges."Chalta hai. We'll manage."
Vicky stood there, watching the quiet disappointment settle over the room. His father's forced calm. His mother's worried eyes. The heavy silence from Ankit. Even Reena, usually composed, hovered nearby, uneasy.
This—this small, ordinary sadness—was the enemy he had always wanted to defeat.
He had the power to fix it. A diamond was enough to change everything. One pull, one sale—simple. Clean. Easy.
His hand twitched toward his pocket.
But then he remembered the blocky world. The dissolving walls. The silence that swallowed him whole.
If he vanished… if he lost himself again…no diamond could fix the damage he'd leave behind.
He forced his hand still.
Later, Reena found him standing by the doorway."Vicky… that computer course. Is it really helping?"
She wasn't asking about the course.She was asking about him. About whether he was moving toward something that could someday support the family.
He answered honestly."It's hard, Didi. I barely understand anything."
Instead of disappointment, she gave him a small, warm smile."It's okay. Everyone struggles at the beginning. Just don't quit. We'll figure it out together."
Those words did more for him than any potion or item ever had.
Back in his room, he stared at his physics book. Then at his phone.The old instinct—to reach for a game, for power—pushed at him.He resisted.
Instead, he opened the browser.
"C programming for beginners."
He read the first line. Then the second. Then the third.It didn't magically get easy. But it was real, and real was enough.
This was his new battlefield:not glitching worlds, not cosmic rules—but lecture notes, exercises, and slow, steady progress.
The Guardian didn't need diamonds.He needed persistence.
One line of code at a time.