Chapter 1: Divine Intervention (Or: How I Got Killed By A Texting God)
Look, I know what you're thinking. "How does a fifteen-year-old kid from India end up at a summer camp for Greek demigods?"
The answer involves texting and driving, cosmic bureaucracy, and the most absurd game of interdimensional catch you've ever heard of.
Let me back up.
My name—well, my old name doesn't matter anymore. What matters is the blood running through my veins. The blood of Karna, son of Surya, the greatest archer who ever lived and the most tragic hero of the Mahabharata.
Yeah, that Karna.
Somehow, impossibly, against all odds, his bloodline survived. Through millennia, through the rise and fall of empires, through everything—the blood kept producing warriors. Not demigods, mind you. The divine blood had thinned over the ages. But warriors? Oh yes. Soldiers. Fighters. People who could look death in the eye and laugh.
I was the latest in that line. Fifteen years old, tall for my age, lean and athletic from years of martial arts training and running. I wasn't anyone special—just a kid who loved the old stories, who trained because it felt right in my blood, who dreamed of being something more than ordinary.
I had my whole life ahead of me. School, college, maybe even following the family military tradition someday.
Except, apparently, for Hermes.
The Incident
It happened on what should have been a normal evening. I was walking home from training, earbuds in, thinking about tomorrow's history exam, when the sky... changed.
Not metaphorically. Literally changed.
One moment, normal Delhi traffic and pollution-hazed sunset. The next, the air ripped open like someone had torn a hole in reality itself.
Out came a chariot—golden, gleaming, impossible—driven by a young man who was very clearly a god and very clearly looking at his phone instead of where he was going.
I had approximately half a second to think, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me—"
Then: impact.
Everything went white, then black, then... nothing.
The Afterlife's Waiting Room
When I opened my eyes again, I was floating. Not physically—I didn't have a physical body anymore—but my soul was definitely suspended in some kind of cosmic space.
And in front of me, reclining on a massive serpent with multiple heads, looking like he'd been in the middle of the universe's most comfortable nap, was a being of such incredible presence that even dead, I knew exactly who I was looking at.
Lord Vishnu. The Preserver. One of the Trimurti.
Just... casually floating there on Sheshnaga, looking at me with one eye open.
"Hain?" he said, sitting up slightly. "Ye kya hua?"
Even in death, even face-to-face with the literal Preserver of the Universe, that casual "what happened?" nearly made me laugh.
Nearly.
Because I was, you know, dead.
He listened as my story poured out—the walk home, the sky tearing open, the chariot, the texting, the impact—and I watched his face transform.
Dark lines, like something out of an anime, literally spread across his divine features.
Without a word, he pulled out what looked like a conch shell but functioned like the most advanced phone I'd ever seen. He tapped it once.
"ZEUS," Vishnu said, his voice perfectly calm and perfectly terrifying. "We need to talk. Right now."
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The Phone Call
What followed was the most polite, charming, absolutely scathing dressing-down I've ever witnessed.
"So your messenger god—yes, YOUR Hermes—was texting and driving through MY domain and killed one of Karna's bloodline. A child. Do you have ANY idea—"
And then—I kid you not—there was a click.
Zeus hung up on him.
Vishnu stared at the conch-phone, his expression frozen in absolute disbelief.
"Did he just..." Vishnu said slowly. "Did he just hang up on me?"
All of Sheshnaga's heads turned to look, equally shocked.
"He hung up," Vishnu continued, his voice flat. "He HUNG UP. On ME. The PRESERVER. His messenger god kills one of KARNA'S descendants—texting and driving—and he hangs up on me like I'm some... some telemarketer?!"
I watched the Preserver of the Universe have what could only be described as a divine crisis.
And honestly? I was right there with him.
"ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" I exploded. "I died because some Greek god was TEXTING?! I had exams next week! I was supposed to go to my cousin's wedding! I HADN'T EVEN FINISHED WATCHING MY ANIME!"
Then I actually looked at Vishnu. Like, really looked.
Four arms. Blue skin. Lying on a cosmic serpent. The full divine package.
"...hain?"
I rubbed my eyes. Surely I was seeing things. This couldn't be real.
I rubbed them again.
Nope. Still there. Still very much Lord Vishnu.
My brain tried to process this. Failed. Tried again. Failed harder.
Every story my grandmother told me, every prayer my mother made me memorize, every temple visit—it all came crashing down on me at once.
With the most awkward, nervous smile—the kind you give when you've just realized you yelled at an actual god—I said: "Arre sorry sir, thoda behgaya tha main. Aap continue karo."
Vishnu's expression shifted from righteous anger to amusement.
"I like this one," he murmured.
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Then Vishnu's eyes gleamed with something dangerous. Something mischievous. Something that made me instantly nervous despite being already dead.
He looked toward a corner of heaven that seemed to exist in a place only he could see, and his smile turned absolutely savage.
"Zeus..." he said softly. "You dared to hang up on me?"
He turned back to me, that divine smile widening.
"So. You want to know something interesting? You are a descendant of Karna himself."
My brain tried to process that. Got about halfway there. Stalled.
"In fact," Vishnu continued, cupping his hands around his mouth, "why don't you meet him? OI! KARNA! GET OVER HERE! I WANT YOU TO MEET SOMEONE!"
And that's when everything changed.
The space around us seemed to shift. The air itself grew heavier, charged with something beyond divine—something earned through blood, sweat, and unimaginable skill.
Karna arrived.
There's no other word for it. He didn't walk, didn't appear, didn't manifest. He arrived.
Every movement radiated power. Not the flashy, showy kind—the quiet, terrifying kind. The kind that made you instinctively straighten your spine and hold your breath. His presence alone was overwhelming, and even Vishnu seemed impressed.
"Kya baat hai Karna!" Vishnu said with genuine admiration. "Ab to Indra ko bhi parajit karoge kya?"
Karna smiled—slight, knowing, confident. "Vasudev, vo to main yudh mein kar chuka hoon."
I already did that in battle.
The sheer confidence in those words. The absolute certainty. This wasn't boasting. This was just... fact.
Then he turned to look at me.
Those eyes saw everything. My life, my training, my dreams, my struggles, my small victories, my failures. He looked not just at my soul but through it, reading the story written in every choice I'd made, every challenge I'd faced.
The silence stretched. Heavy. Weighted with judgment.
I felt like I was fifteen again—no wait, I was fifteen, just dead—standing in front of a teacher who was deciding if I was worth their time.
Finally, Karna moved.
TAP.
His bow struck the ground once.
"Yes," he said, his voice carrying the weight of ages. "Even in the era of Kalyug, even with the absence of divine energy, even so young... you have the spirit of a warrior."
A pause.
"I am proud to call you my kin."
System Malfunction
That did it.
My consciousness—my soul, my entire being—just... crashed.
Windows XP shutdown sound.
Blue screen of death.
Attempting to reboot...
Windows startup sound.
Immediate crash again.
When I finally rebooted properly, something in me snapped.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROUD?!" I shouted at Vishnu. "I'M DEAD! DEAD BECAUSE SOME GREEK GOD WAS TEXTING AND DRIVING! I WAS FIFTEEN! I HAD MY WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF ME! AND YOU—" I pointed at Vishnu, all respect forgotten, "—YOU CALLED ZEUS AND HE HUNG UP ON YOU?! THE PRESERVER OF THE UNIVERSE GOT HUNG UP ON?! AND NOW I'M JUST—WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?!"
Karna stood frozen, bow in hand, staring at me like he couldn't quite believe what he was witnessing.
Was I... was I yelling at Vasudev? Was this really happening?
Vishnu's cheeks actually flushed slightly. "Oii, I have an image to—"
"IMAGE?!" I was on a roll now. "IMAGE?! I DIED BECAUSE OF A TEXTING ACCIDENT! I WAS GOING TO APPEAR FOR MY BOARDS! I HAD PLANS!"
"Okay, okay! OKAY!" Vishnu held up his hands. "Calm down! I have a plan! Just—let me explain!"
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The Plan
Vishnu clapped his hands together, that mischievous smile returning.
"So! It is simple. Karna will give some blood, you become a direct descendant of Surya through that—proper divine lineage, full power package—then I throw you across into the Greek pantheon in the timeline of one..."
He conjured a glowing book out of nowhere, flipped through it.
"...Percy Jackson."
He looked up brightly.
"And THEN you can have your revenge on Hermes while having a blast in that life! New chance, divine powers, revenge quest—everyone wins!"
Karna and I slowly turned to look at each other.
Both of us wore the exact same expression: Is he serious right now?
"Did you just," I said carefully, "say you're going to THROW me into another pantheon?"
"Arre, technical details!" Vishnu waved dismissively. "The point is—Zeus hung up on ME. His messenger killed one of YOUR line. So now? We send someone to shake things up a bit. Call it... cosmic compensation."
That savage smile was back.
And despite myself, despite the insanity of it all, I started thinking about it.
Really thinking about it.
New life. Divine powers. A chance to make Hermes pay for his carelessness. A whole new world to explore.
And honestly? I was fifteen and dead. What did I have to lose?
"Wait," I said slowly. "If I'm going to do this... I want a say in how I'm set up."
Vishnu raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Let me choose three gifts. One from each of the trimurti ."
The words hung in the air.
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Karna's face developed those dark lines.
"No," he said flatly. "This madness ends NOW."
Before Vishnu could respond, Karna pulled out his own celestial phone.
"OII! KYA KAR RHA HAI?!" Vishnu yelped.
Karna, completely straight-faced, was already dialing. "Mahadev ko phone."
Vishnu paled.
I could practically see his thoughts: Oh no. If Mahadev knows, then Parvati knows. And if SHE knows, then Lakshmi will find out. And then this becomes a WHOLE THING with all the devis involved and—
Then another realization hit him.
"Wait. WAIT." Vishnu stared at Karna. "How did you learn to use a phone?! You're always training! You're all traditional and proper! And—AND HOW DO YOU HAVE MAHADEV'S NUMBER?!"
Karna, phone already ringing, allowed himself a slight smirk. "I have my ways, Vasudev."
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Divine light flooded the space, and suddenly Mahadev and Parvati stood before us, radiating cosmic power.
"So, Vishnu..." Mahadev began. "Karna called us. Something about—"
"Where is this soul?" Parvati was already looking around curiously. "We heard there was an... incident?"
I waved them off absentmindedly, not even looking at them.
Because I was busy.
Planning.
"...so if I show up at Camp Half-Blood with Surya's powers... hehe... and then Hermes shows up... I could... no wait, better—what if I..." evil giggling "...challenge him to a race but with FIRE... no no, publicly humiliate him during Capture the Flag... oooh or—"
More maniacal laughter bubbled up.
"Is he..." Mahadev blinked. "Is he okay?"
"He just waved us off," Parvati said, tilting her head. "He waved off MAHADEV."
Vishnu sighed. "He's planning petty revenge on Hermes."
Karna pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is what happens when you offer chaos as a solution, Vasudev."
"AHEM."
All three gods coughed awkwardly, loudly, repeatedly.
I finally snapped out of my revenge fantasy. "Oh! Right. Sorry. You were saying?"
Choosing Gifts
The gods looked at each other, then at me.
"Your idea," Mahadev said slowly, "about choosing gifts. That's actually not terrible."
Vishnu looked surprised. "It's completely unprecedented—"
"So is texting-and-driving divine manslaughter," Parvati pointed out. "Yet here we are."
"Plus," I added, gaining confidence, "this way you're all invested! It's not just Vishnu's chaos plan anymore. It's a GROUP PROJECT."
"A group project with the two of the Trimurti and Devi," Karna muttered. "What could possibly go wrong."
Mahadev laughed. "I like him. Very well. One gift each. But choose wisely, mortal soul."
I started pacing, thinking out loud like I was planning a campaign in a video game.
"Okay. Karna's blood gives me the Surya connection—fire and light powers, ability to create weapons and armor from that light and fire. That's my baseline covered." I turned to Mahadev. "From you, I want accelerated weapon mastery. Not instant skill—I still have to practice. But where normal people need a hundred hours of focused training for one percent improvement? I only need ten."
Mahadev nodded approvingly. "Discipline and dedication rewarded with growth. Yes. This suits you, warrior."
Karna smiled slightly. "A true warrior's gift."
I turned to Parvati, suddenly feeling bashful. I approached her, glancing at the other gods, then leaned in to whisper in her ear like a kid asking mom for something embarrassing.
She laughed—warm, delighted, divine.
"Oh! Oh, I see!" She waved off Vishnu's curious look. "He asked for stamina and increased vigor. For combat, training... and other activities."
My face burned red. Karna coughed and looked away.
"All right, child," Parvati said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You shall have enhanced stamina and vigor—your body will endure what others cannot, recover faster, push harder and longer."
She leaned closer, that divine knowing in her eyes.
"And a small boon from me, since you were so sweetly honest—you will find yourself blessed in matters of the heart. A harem, if you will, though not in any crude sense. Those whose hearts align with yours will be drawn to you, and you to them. Love, in all its forms, will find you. But remember—with love comes responsibility, child."
My eyes went wide. "Wait, really?!"
Finally, I turned to Vishnu.
"Divine Adaptation," I said firmly.
His eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
"You take different forms for different threats, right? Matsya, Kurma, Varaha, Narasimha—each avatar adapted to what the world needed. I need that. Not the power to transform, but the ability to adapt. If something hits me once, it shouldn't hit me the same way twice. Poison, magic, specific attacks—my body learns, adjusts, builds resistance."
Vishnu's smile spread slowly. "You've been paying attention to the stories."
"My grandmother told them to me every night."
"Divine Adaptation it is," Vishnu declared. "Your body and powers will learn from every threat. You won't become immune, but you'll become resistant. The more you face something, the less it can harm you."
"A survivor's gift," Mahadev observed.
"He'll be very hard to kill," Parvati added.
The Age Adjustment
Vishnu clapped his hands. "Excellent! Now, let's get you ready for—"
"Wait," Parvati interrupted. "How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen—"
"That won't work." She looked at Mahadev. "The campers are teenagers. This Percy Jackson is twelve years old!"
"Okay, so I'll be older than—"
Mahadev shook his head. "Fourteen! Yes, perfect age! Close enough to Percy Jackson, not too old, not too young!"
"YOU CAN'T JUST—"
Both gods casually waved their hands. "Yes, yes, makes sense!"
Golden transformation light engulfed me. When it cleared, I looked at my hands—slightly younger, a bit smaller.
I was fourteen now.
"I WAS FIFTEEN AND NOW I'M FOURTEEN! YOU MADE ME YOUNGER! I LOST A YEAR!"
"Oh stop complaining," Vishnu said. "It's just one year."
"THAT'S MY WHOLE TENTH GRADE!"
POOF.
Another figure appeared out of nowhere, and my brain tried to process what I was seeing.
"Oh! Are we sending someone to mess with the Greeks? Why didn't anyone TELL me?!"
I stared.
Stared harder.
"Wait." I pointed at the newcomer, then at Vishnu, back to the newcomer. "HOLD UP. How is this possible?!"
The young man tilted his head, amused. "Hmm?"
"You're Krishna! You're Vishnu's avatar! His incarnation! If you're HERE—" I gestured wildly, "—then how are YOU—" pointing at Vishnu, "—ALSO here?! That's—you can't both—WHAT?! THIS DOES NOT COMPUTE!"
My brain blue-screened again.
"Oh, this again," Vishnu chuckled.
"You mortals and your linear thinking about divinity," Krishna said with that mischievous grin.
"Technically we're in the afterlife," Mahadev offered. "Different rules."
"Think of it like... administrative separation?" Parvati tried.
"ADMINISTRATIVE SEPARATION?! HE'S YOU! YOU'RE HIM! YOU'RE THE SAME PERSON!"
Krishna and Vishnu spoke in perfect unison: "Technically yes, but actually no."
I put my head in my hands. "I died. I'm in the afterlife. Nothing makes sense anymore."
Karna patted my shoulder sympathetically. "You get used to it."
"Anyway!" Krishna was already moving toward me. "Enough philosophy! Time for THROWING!"
"WAIT NO—"
The Yeet Heard 'Round the Cosmos
Krishna grabbed my soul-form and started literally balling it up like clay.
"OW! HEY! THAT'S ME YOU'RE—"
He wound up, full cartoon pitcher style, spinning his arm in elaborate circles.
"Krishna, you can't just—" Vishnu tried.
"PORTAL! NOW!" Krishna demanded.
Mahadev, looking amused, nodded. "Just open it."
Vishnu sighed and opened a swirling portal—I could see trees, cabins, and blue sky through it.
Krishna pulled back, one leg up in perfect throwing stance, and his voice suddenly took on that deep, resonant divine quality.
"Listen well, young warrior, for I name you anew for this journey!"
Golden light blazed around us.
"धर्मो रक्षति रक्षितः। कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन। यत्र योगेश्वरः कृष्णो यत्र पार्थो धनुर्धरः।"
His voice rang with power and meaning—dharma protects those who protect it, you have right only to action and never to its fruits, wherever there is Krishna and the archer there is victory.
"I name you ADITYA—son of the sun, bearer of light, warrior of dharma! Go forth and show these Greeks what a TRUE son of Surya can do!"
"WAIT THAT'S A REALLY COOL NAME BUT—"
"YEET!"
FWOOOOOOOOSH.
The world became a blur of colors, sensations, cosmic energies. I was flying—no, being thrown—across dimensions, across pantheons, across reality itself.
Behind me, I heard Krishna call out cheerfully: "And remember—have fun! Life's too short to be serious all the time!"
Then Vishnu's resigned voice: "...he's going to cause so much chaos."
Karna's dry response: "That's MY descendant you just renamed and threw across reality."
Krishna's shrug was somehow audible: "He'll be fine! Probably!"
Landing
Camp Half-Blood was having a peaceful summer afternoon.
The sun was shining, campers were training, someone was probably about to start capture the flag.
Then the sky tore open.
A ball of golden light came screaming through the air, trailing fire and divine energy, accompanied by a sound that could only be described as cosmic whistling.
"WHAT IS THAT?!" someone shouted.
The golden ball hit the ground in the middle of camp with the force of a meteor.
CRASH.
Crater. Dust. Smoke.
Silence.
Then, from the center of the impact zone, a groan.
"...I hate gods. All gods. Every pantheon."
I pushed myself up, spitting out dirt, and looked around at the strangest summer camp I'd ever seen.
Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.
My name is Aditya.
And my life was about to get very, very complicated.
END OF CHAPTER 1