System Update

**July 7, 2002**

**Sharma University, Rewari**

The midday sun beat down on Rewari, its heat seeping through the office window, casting a golden sheen across Jatin's desk. He sat hunched over a stack of papers, his fingers—rough with ink stains and calluses—gripping a pen as he scribbled notes, the faint scratch of nib on paper a steady rhythm. Nearly two months had passed since the third-years' last exam, and his mind and body thrummed at 160%—a peak reached the previous night, July 6, when the System chimed its latest boost. Weekly surges had climbed him from 145% (May 12) to 150% (June 2), 155% (June 23), and now this, his thoughts a crystalline web, his muscles taut with a strength he felt in every step. The air smelled of dust and chai, a chipped mug steaming beside him, its warmth a quiet anchor in the chaos of his work.

In those two months, Jatin had poured his 160% into the university. Outside, the campus thrummed with construction—the new buildings' first floors stood proud, their brick walls rising against the blue sky, steel beams glinting in the sun. Dust clouds swirled as workers hammered and shouted, the clang of tools a heartbeat of progress—engineering labs, a library wing, computer science rooms—all funded by VedaOS's soaring sales. Today, though, was special. On his desk lay a neat pile of graduation certificates, the culmination of the third-years' journey. Jatin had just signed them, all 32 students passing with over 70% marks—an achievement no private university in India had notched before, a testament to their fire and his System.

He signed the last certificate—Priya's, her name in bold ink—his pen hovering as he exhaled, a long, slow breath that carried the weight of months. The paper crinkled under his touch, the scent of fresh ink sharp in his nose, and he leaned back, the chair creaking under him, a grin tugging at his lips. "Done," he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction, the cigarette burn on his fingers faint from last night's late smoke. His 160% mind replayed it—every exam, every boost, every brick laid—a symphony of effort clicking into place.

VedaOS had gone viral, a tidal wave sweeping Europe. Thirty percent of users there—millions—now ran it, the infinity logo glowing on screens from London to Lisbon. Jatin's earnings had ballooned—5 million rupees in two months, rupees piling into his account from $10 sales, a fortune born of his 160% foresight and 2025 tech. He'd bought an office in Delhi last week—a sleek space for his new company, Vedic Technology Pvt Ltd—its glass doors etched with the same infinity sign, a symbol of India's resurgence. Foreign firms—Microsoft, IBM, others—had emailed offers, millions dangled to buy VedaOS, but Jatin declined each with a polite, firm no. "It's ours," he'd typed, dust on his boots as he sat in Rewari, pride swelling in his chest.

Suddenly, a voice rang in his mind, clear and sharp, cutting through the quiet hum of his thoughts.

[*Ding…*]

[*Congratulations, Host, for the successful graduation of students in your university…*]

[*System is updating itself…*]

[*Bounded Amplification Matrix is changing into Potential Amplification Matrix…*]

[*Change completed…*]

[*Successfully, Potential Amplification Matrix has been activated…*]

Jatin froze, the pen slipping from his fingers, clattering softly on the desk. His heart thudded, shock rippling through him as the System's words sank in—change, here, now. The room felt still, the chai steam curling upward, the distant clang of construction fading as his mind sharpened on the voice. "What's this?" he whispered, voice trembling slightly, not from fear but awe. The System had shifted—evolved—and he felt it, a subtle pulse in his skull, his veins, like a new current waking.

He swallowed, the air tasting of dust and anticipation, and asked aloud, "System—what's happening?" His voice echoed faintly in the office, boots scuffing the floor as he shifted, the question hanging heavy.

The System responded, its tone crisp, precise, a teacher unveiling a lesson.

[*Host, now students will not get boosts weekly. Now all of them are divided into potential levels from F to SSS.*]

A hierarchy flashed in his mind: F < E < D < C < B < A < S < SS < SSS—nine tiers, a ladder of capability. Jatin's brow furrowed, his 160% mind racing to grasp it, ink smudging his fingers as he clenched them. The System continued, unrelenting.

[*Upon becoming your university student, they will get an overall boost of 1 level in their knowledge, skills, and other talents. This means if a student has D potential in math, it becomes C, and E potential in cricket becomes D. After graduation, students will get an overall boost of 1 level again. For the same student, this means B potential in math and C potential in cricket.*]

Jatin leaned forward, elbows on the desk, the wood warm under his skin as he pieced it together. Simple, elegant—entry bumped you up one rung, graduation another. A student with B potential in, say, physics would hit A upon enrolling, then S upon leaving. His breath caught, a grin flickering—Raman and Rahul, their proofs shaking the world, made sense now. But what was "potential"? He tilted his head, the chai mug's steam brushing his cheek, and asked, "System, what's the meaning of potential?"

The response came swift, layered with detail, as if the System savored the explanation.

[*Host, potential decides the capabilities of a person. For example, in your university, Raman and Rahul have B-level potential. B-level potential can research and solve difficult problems and publish research papers. For example, Einstein had S-level potential.*]

Jatin's mind whirred, images flashing—Raman's shy brilliance, Rahul's fierce grit, their B-level minds cracking math's giants. Einstein, S-level, a titan above. The System pressed on, painting the scale.

[*Also, for example, in cricket, Sachin has S-level potential, and Kohli and Dhoni have A-level potential.*]

He nodded, dust motes dancing in the sunlight, the cricket analogy clicking—Sachin's magic, Kohli's fire, Dhoni's steel. The System laid out the rarity, each word a weight.

[*S potential is very rare—it is 1 in 10 millions. A is 1 in 1 million. B is 1 in hundreds of thousands. C is 1 in tens of thousands. D is 1 in 1000. E is 1 in 500. F is 1 in 100.*]

Jatin exhaled, a long, slow breath that stirred the papers, his mind mapping it—F common as dust, S rare as stars. Raman and Rahul, B-level, 1 in hundreds of thousands, had soared under his watch. Priya, Arjun, Kunal—where did they sit? D, C, B? Entry would lift them, graduation higher. His chest tightened, pride and possibility swelling like a tide. "So that's it," he murmured, voice rough, a laugh breaking free. "Potential—raw, real, ours to shape."

He stood, boots scuffing the tiles, and strode to the window, pushing it wider. The campus spread below—construction's clang, students' chatter drifting up from the canteen, the neem tree's rustle in the breeze. His 160% senses caught it all—the tang of wet cement, the faint sweetness of chai from Kamla's last visit, the warmth of the sun on his face. VedaOS had built this—5 million rupees, 30% of Europe's screens, a Delhi office humming with Vedic Technology Pvt Ltd. Foreign offers—Microsoft's $50,000, others higher—lay declined, dust on his inbox.

The certificates gleamed on his desk, ink drying, 32 names etched in triumph—70% plus, a first for any private university. The System's shift—Potential Amplification Matrix—pulsed in his mind, a new engine for his kids. Raman and Rahul, B to A now, S looming post-graduation. Priya's quiet hope, Arjun's spark, Kunal's boom—all would rise, level by level, India's proof to the world.

Jatin lit a cigarette, smoke curling into the air, its sting sharp in his eyes. He grinned, rough and real, the ledger open beside him—rupees, buildings, potential—a future taking shape. The campus thrummed beyond the glass, alive with dust, sweat, and dreams. His work wasn't done—it was evolving, step by steady step.

Then, the voice rang again.

[System is giving boost all the students in their overall potential…]

[Boost completed. Rahul and Raman got A-level potential in math, Priya got B-level potential in physics, Kunal got B-level potential in computer science, Aditya got A-level potential in arts and painting.]

Jatin's jaw dropped, shock and joy crashing through him. Rahul and Raman, A-level now—math titans. Priya, B in physics—research beckoned. Kunal, B in computer science—code would bow to him.

But Aditya—A in arts and painting? His brow furrowed, the chai mug warm in his hand as he turned it over.

"System, what's this?" he asked, voice sharp with curiosity.

The System replied, calm and clear.

[Aditya has talent in arts and painting, but due to lack of opportunity, he doesn't get a chance to show.]

Jatin blinked, the truth hitting hard. In India, parents pushed—study, job, settle—art starved in the shadows. Aditya's quiet face flashed—short, wiry, always sketching in corners.

Jatin's chest tightened, resolve hardening.

"I'll help him," he murmured, voice firm, dust motes swirling as he set the mug down.

He tilted his head, asking, "System, what about my potential?"

[Host, you have highest C potential in physics and B level in cricket.]

Jatin's eyes widened, shock stinging. "Only C in physics?" he muttered, voice low, disbelief threading through.

[Host, don't worry. After getting boosts in these months, your potential has become B level in physics.]

He exhaled, relief softening the sting—B now, respectable. Then the System spoke again, its tone shifting.

[Host, System has new function. You can get highest potential from students to you. Means you can get Rahul and Raman's A level in math, Priya and Kunal's B level in physics and computer science, and from Aditya, A level in arts and painting.]

[System installing the potential in host… Installation completed.]

Jatin staggered, shock slamming through him as a wave crashed in his mind—ideas flooding, vivid and wild. Math unfurled—integrals dancing, proofs snapping into place; physics flared—equations glowing, forces bending; computer science hummed—code weaving like silk; arts burst—colors bleeding, lines singing.

He gripped the desk, wood warm under his palms, breath ragged, the cigarette forgotten. His senses surged—dust sharp, chai sweet, the world alive.

Rahul's math, Priya's physics, Kunal's code, Aditya's art—his now, a chorus of potential.He laughed, rough and raw, smoke curling as he lit the cigarette at last, its sting sharp in his eyes.

The campus thrummed beyond—certificates gleaming, buildings rising, a future unfolding. His kids had lifted him, and he'd lift them higher, step by steady step