Chetan barely slept for the rest of the night. He remained awake on the edge of his bed, occasionally checking the strange golden interface that had appeared in front of him. It never disappeared completely; whenever he focused on it, the translucent screen returned, displaying information about his ability. The more he examined it, the more questions appeared in his mind. There was no explanation for why he had awakened this particular power, no indication of how many other people had awakened, and no instruction manual telling him what the different quality ranks actually meant. The only thing he knew for certain was that the knife in his kitchen had changed after he touched it.
Around six in the morning, Chetan finally stood up. His body felt surprisingly normal considering everything that had happened during the night. He walked into the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and drank it slowly while looking through the window. Dawn was beginning to brighten the eastern sky, but Pune looked nothing like it had the previous morning. There were almost no vehicles moving on the road below. Several cars had been left in the middle of the street, some with their doors open. A bus had stopped at an angle near an intersection, and one of the traffic signals was no longer functioning. There were people outside, but they moved cautiously, often looking over their shoulders. A police vehicle stood near the entrance of a residential complex, although nobody appeared to be inside it.
Chetan put the glass down and checked his phone. The battery was at forty-three percent. He had received dozens of notifications during the night, but most were either forwarded messages or incomplete news alerts. The mobile network was unstable, and several attempts to call his mother had failed. He opened the messages again and found one from her sent at 4:52 in the morning.
We're safe. Don't come here. Stay inside until we know what's happening.
Chetan stared at the message for a long moment before replying.
I'm safe too. I'll stay here. Keep the doors locked.
He waited, but there was no response. He tried calling anyway. The call failed before it could connect. Chetan placed the phone on the table and rubbed his face. He wanted to believe that everything would eventually return to normal. Perhaps the government would contain the outbreak. Perhaps the strange cases were temporary. Perhaps the reports of people developing abilities were exaggerated. But after what he had witnessed the previous night, he couldn't convince himself of any of those things.
His gaze shifted toward the kitchen knife.
It was lying exactly where he had left it.
Chetan picked it up and examined the blade. There was no visible glow now, and apart from being noticeably sharper, it looked like an ordinary knife. He brought a piece of cardboard from a package and placed it on the counter. The knife passed through it with almost no resistance. He stared at the clean cut.
"So the ability really works."
The golden interface appeared as soon as he concentrated.
[Golden Touch]
[Current Understanding: Quality Enhancement]
[Successful Enhancement: 1]
Chetan frowned at the second line. There had been no such counter before, or perhaps he hadn't noticed it. He focused on the knife.
[Object: Kitchen Knife]
[Quality: E]
[Enhancement Probability: Unknown]
He tried touching the knife again.
Nothing happened.
Chetan waited several seconds, then moved his hand across the handle and blade once more. Still nothing.
"Does it have a cooldown?"
The interface offered no answer. He tried touching the knife repeatedly, but there was no change. Eventually he stopped and looked at the other objects around him. Plates, spoons, a pressure cooker, an electric kettle, a refrigerator, packets of rice, a water bottle, a phone charger and dozens of other ordinary objects suddenly seemed different. Yesterday they had simply been household items. Today, each one potentially represented an opportunity.
The thought excited him, but he forced himself to remain cautious. He didn't know whether using the ability repeatedly would have consequences. He didn't even know whether the ability worked on everything.
The easiest way to find out was to experiment.
He picked up a stainless-steel spoon.
Nothing happened.
He concentrated.
Still nothing.
Then the golden interface appeared.
[Object Detected: Stainless-Steel Spoon]
[Current Quality: F]
[Enhancement Available]
Chetan's eyebrows rose. He touched the spoon firmly.
A faint warmth passed through his fingers.
[Enhancement Successful.]
[F → E]
The spoon looked almost identical, but when he tapped it against the counter, the sound was slightly different. Chetan smiled despite himself. He had found his first rule: the ability didn't require special objects. Even something as ordinary as a spoon could be upgraded.
He picked up another spoon and tried again. The golden glow appeared, but this time the result was different.
[Enhancement Failed.]
Chetan blinked.
"So it isn't guaranteed."
He picked up the first spoon again. Nothing happened. The second remained F-grade.
That explained the word "random" he had been thinking about. His ability wasn't simply an automatic upgrade. There was some unknown probability involved. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it failed, and he had no idea whether the probability changed depending on the object.
He continued testing carefully.
A plastic bottle remained unchanged after several attempts. A cheap metal fork successfully became E-grade. A ceramic plate failed twice before finally becoming E-grade. A packet of biscuits did not respond at all. His phone responded, but the interface only displayed a warning.
[Target contains complex electronic components.]
[Enhancement may produce unpredictable results.]
Chetan immediately stopped.
He wasn't about to risk destroying the only device he had for communication.
After almost an hour of testing, he sat down at the kitchen table and reviewed what he had learned. The ability could affect ordinary physical objects, but not every attempt succeeded. He couldn't determine the success probability, and he couldn't choose the resulting grade. So far, everything had only increased from F to E. He had no evidence that he could directly create a C, B, or higher-grade object.
That meant he couldn't afford to waste opportunities.
If the ability really could reach Z-grade, then every attempt might matter.
The thought of a Z-grade object was difficult to imagine because he didn't even know what such an object would look like. The ranking system itself suggested an enormous difference between the levels. F and E were probably ordinary grades, while S, SS and SSS represented something far beyond normal human manufacturing.
But where had the ranking come from?
Why did his ability use such a system?
And why had the mutation caused him to awaken this particular power?
Chetan pushed the questions aside. He needed practical answers first.
Food.
Water.
Security.
Communication.
Those were the four things that mattered.
He opened the refrigerator and checked its contents. There was enough food for a few days, although much of it required electricity to remain fresh. He had several packets of rice and lentils in the kitchen cabinets, along with flour, cooking oil, spices and some packaged food. Water was more concerning. The taps were still working, but there was no guarantee they would continue doing so.
Chetan filled every available container.
Buckets.
Bottles.
Cooking vessels.
Even the empty containers he normally ignored.
Once he finished, he returned to the window.
The street had become busier.
Not with normal traffic, but with people.
A group of men was moving cautiously down the road carrying sticks and metal pipes. A woman was dragging a suitcase behind her while trying to keep two children close. A delivery truck had stopped near a grocery store, and several people were arguing with the driver.
Chetan watched silently.
He understood what was happening.
People were beginning to panic.
As long as they believed the government would restore order, most would remain patient. But once people realized food deliveries might stop and hospitals might no longer function normally, behavior would change quickly.
He checked the news again.
The situation was worse than he had expected.
Several countries had reported cases. International flights were being cancelled. Chinese authorities had placed additional cities under restrictions. India had announced enhanced screening at major airports, but confirmed cases were already being investigated in multiple states. Reports of violent incidents were appearing from Mumbai, Delhi and several other cities.
Then he saw something that made him stop scrolling.
Reports of "Awakened" Individuals Spread Across Social Media.
The article described people who had apparently developed abnormal abilities following exposure to the mutation. Authorities were asking citizens not to approach anyone displaying unusual physical or behavioral symptoms.
Chetan read the article twice.
The information was still uncertain, but there were now too many videos to dismiss.
A man lifting a motorcycle.
A woman producing intense heat from her hands.
Someone surviving a fall that should have killed them.
A person apparently moving faster than ordinary human limits.
The world had begun changing.
Chetan looked at his own hands.
He had awakened too.
For the first time, he wondered whether the ability was actually an advantage or merely another problem.
If other people possessed combat-oriented abilities, what chance did he have against them?
His Golden Touch didn't make him stronger or faster. If someone attacked him, an upgraded spoon wouldn't save him.
He needed something better.
His eyes moved toward the kitchen.
A frying pan.
A pressure cooker.
A metal water container.
The upgraded knife.
He considered improving the pan, but stopped himself. If the enhancement failed, nothing would happen. If it succeeded, perhaps he would gain something useful. But he still didn't understand whether there was any limit to the number of objects he could upgrade.
Then another possibility occurred to him.
Weapons.
He didn't own a proper weapon, but there was a hardware shop several streets away. If it hadn't already been looted, he might find tools, protective equipment, ropes, batteries and other useful supplies.
The idea was dangerous.
Leaving the apartment meant exposing himself to whatever was happening outside.
But staying inside indefinitely was impossible.
He needed information.
He needed supplies.
And he needed to understand his ability before circumstances forced him into a situation where experimentation was no longer possible.
Chetan opened a cupboard and took out an old backpack. He began filling it with practical items: water, packaged food, a first-aid kit, power bank, phone charger, lighter, flashlight, spare batteries and a few basic tools. He hesitated before adding the upgraded knife.
It was small enough to conceal but sharp enough to be useful.
He also grabbed a second ordinary kitchen knife.
He didn't know what he would encounter outside, so having a backup seemed sensible.
Before leaving, he checked his mother's message again.
He almost called her.
Then he remembered her instructions.
Don't come here.
He would respect that.
For now.
Chetan locked the apartment and stepped into the corridor.
The building was unusually quiet.
Normally, by this time, he would hear televisions, conversations and children moving through the hallways. Today, most doors were closed. Several residents had placed furniture against their entrances. Someone had written a warning on the wall near the staircase.
DON'T OPEN THE DOOR TO STRANGERS.
Chetan walked toward the stairs rather than using the elevator. If the electricity failed while he was inside, he didn't want to become trapped.
As he descended, he heard voices from the second floor.
"Don't open it!"
"He's one of them!"
"Call the police!"
Chetan stopped.
A man's voice shouted from behind a door.
"Please! My brother is sick. He needs help!"
Another resident yelled back.
"Stay away from the door!"
Chetan continued downward.
He didn't know whether the man outside the apartment was infected or simply frightened. Either way, there was nothing he could safely do.
When he reached the ground floor, he found the main entrance partially blocked by a metal gate. The security guard was nowhere to be seen.
Chetan slowly opened it.
The smell of smoke immediately reached him.
Outside, the morning air felt strangely heavy.
Pune was still recognizable, but the normal rhythm of the city had disappeared. Shops that would normally be open were shuttered. Several vehicles had been abandoned along the road. A pharmacy had a long line outside, while another shop had already been broken into.
Chetan kept his backpack close and began walking.
He didn't run.
Running attracted attention.
Instead, he moved along the side of the road, keeping away from groups of people whenever possible.
After several minutes, he reached a small convenience store.
The shutters were half closed.
A group of people stood outside arguing with the owner.
"Open the shop!"
"I said we're closed!"
"You have food inside!"
"We have nothing left!"
Chetan didn't stop.
He had expected panic buying, but seeing it firsthand made the situation more serious.
A few hundred meters later, he found the hardware shop.
The shutter was down.
Chetan checked the surrounding area.
Nobody was nearby.
He tried the shutter.
Locked.
He looked through the glass.
The shop appeared untouched.
He considered breaking the glass, then stopped.
There were better options.
He walked around the building and found a narrow side entrance. The lock looked old.
Chetan took out the upgraded knife.
He wasn't sure whether the blade could cut through metal, but there was no reason not to try.
He inserted the tip near the lock.
With surprisingly little effort, the blade damaged the mechanism.
Chetan stared at it.
The knife wasn't merely sharper.
It was considerably stronger than an ordinary kitchen knife.
He pushed again.
The lock broke.
Chetan slipped inside and closed the door behind him.
The shop was dark.
He switched on his flashlight.
Shelves filled the room.
Hammers.
Screwdrivers.
Ropes.
Metal cables.
Work gloves.
Protective goggles.
Electrical equipment.
Batteries.
Camping supplies.
Chetan felt as though he had walked into a treasure chest.
He immediately began collecting useful items.
Then his eyes stopped on a heavy steel crowbar.
He picked it up.
The interface appeared.
[Object Detected: Steel Crowbar]
[Current Quality: F]
[Enhancement Available]
Chetan smiled.
This was exactly what he needed.
He touched it.
Golden light spread across the metal.
[Enhancement Successful.]
[F → E]
The crowbar suddenly felt different in his hand.
He swung it once.
The movement was smooth, and the steel produced a solid impact against a wooden counter.
Chetan looked at the dent.
His smile disappeared.
The possibilities were beginning to become real.
If he could eventually upgrade something from F to A or S, it wouldn't simply be a slightly better tool.
It could become something extraordinary.
He carefully placed the crowbar into his backpack.
Then he noticed a locked cabinet behind the counter.
A handwritten label was attached to it.
POWER TOOLS — AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY
Chetan's curiosity won.
He broke the lock and opened it.
Inside were several high-quality tools, including an electric drill, heavy-duty batteries and specialized cutting equipment.
He touched the drill.
The interface appeared.
[Object Detected.]
[Current Quality: D]
Chetan froze.
D-grade.
The first object he had found that wasn't F-grade.
He immediately understood something important.
The quality system didn't mean every object in the world started at F.
Different objects already possessed different grades.
If he could upgrade a D-grade object, perhaps he could eventually reach even higher levels.
But he wasn't going to waste the opportunity.
He closed the cabinet.
There was still plenty to learn.
As Chetan prepared to leave, a loud crash came from outside.
He froze.
Another crash followed.
Then came a growl.
It was deep enough to vibrate through the glass.
Chetan slowly turned toward the front of the shop.
A shadow moved across the street.
He tightened his grip on the crowbar.
The growl came again.
This time, it was closer.
Chetan switched off his flashlight.
He stood perfectly still, listening.
Something was walking outside.
Its claws scraped against the pavement.
A moment later, a large shape passed in front of the shop.
Chetan recognized it immediately.
The mutated dog from the previous night—or something very much like it.
It stopped.
Its head turned toward the hardware store.
Chetan's heartbeat accelerated.
The animal sniffed the air.
Then it walked toward the entrance.
Chetan slowly raised the upgraded crowbar.
For the first time since awakening his ability, he was about to discover whether an E-grade weapon was enough to keep him alive.
The creature lowered its head.
Its eyes fixed on the dark shop.
Then it charged.
The shutter exploded inward.
And Chetan swung.