First, Shams looked at Miraz seriously.
"Tell me something…2 Days Ago, just after sunset—didn't you hear anything… in your mind?"
Miraz blinked, confused. "What?"
"Like a voice. Not from outside, but inside your head."
Miraz frowned, squinting. "Inside my head? What the hell are you talking about? What voice?"
Shams leaned forward slightly. "Are you sure? You're not lying?"
"Bro, I think you hit your head too hard," Miraz said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't hear anything. Nothing in my head except hunger and headaches."
Shams leaned back, eyebrows furrowing. "Hmm… maybe only some people heard it. Maybe the chosen ones."
Miraz raised an eyebrow. "Chosen what now?"
Shams ignored the question, sighing. "Okay. Listen. I'll tell you what happened. Just… don't interrupt. And don't laugh."
2 Days Ago. Right after sunset.
The sky outside had turned a deep purple. Shams was lying on his worn-out mattress in the dark, hands tucked under his head, eyes fixed on a spider web above the corner of the ceiling. His heart was heavy. His pride shattered. He muttered bitterly under his breath.
"Tahsin, you snake... ruined everything. You think I'll forget? One day I'll—"
Then—suddenly—
[The world is changing.]
A voice.
Clear.
Echoing.
Inside his mind.
Shams shot up, eyes wide.
"What the—" His heart began to race.
He looked around the room—nothing. No one. Just the creaking fan and distant street noise.
Trying to shake it off, he sat up and casually started murmuring a Surah under his breath. Something his mother used to do when she was anxious. "Bismillah… Ar-Rahmanir-Rahim…"
But then—
[Battle for Growth is appearing.]
His voice caught mid-Surah.
"W-who said that? Who's there?"
No answer. Just the silence of the room. Shams slowly stood up, glancing out the window. The alley was empty. His fingers trembled slightly.
He sat back down. "Okay… maybe I've finally snapped. First Tahsin, now this…"
But before he could convince himself it was nothing—
[Battle for Growth: A golden chance for lower countries.]
His breath caught.
This time, the voice wasn't just a whisper. It was like a vibration inside him, resonating with his thoughts.
"Who are you?" he asked, whispering to the empty room. "What do you want?"
[Battle for Growth can change the fate of a nation.]
"Change the fate…?" His thoughts swirled.
A part of him wanted to laugh. It sounded like something straight out of a movie or an anime. But it felt too real. Too focused.
[Battle for Growth. A game that will be held in November.]
"A game? What kind of game? Is this real? Am I dreaming?"
Then—
[We are putting all details directly into your mind.]
SHOOOOSH!
A sudden rush of energy surged through him—like cold air shooting through his skull. He gasped, clutching his head.
"Aghh! What the hell—!?"
It stopped just as quickly as it came.
And then silence.
Shams sat there, stunned. His body was still. But his mind felt alive. Full of new information. A voice, a vision, a feeling.
"So this Battle for Growth… it's a chance. A test. A way to push countries like ours to the top," he murmured.
He recalled the dreams he once had. To change the nation. To become a voice for the people. But that dream had seemed so far away… until now.
"Is this my second chance?"
Then came one last line in his mind—
[You will receive Level 2 information after 2 days.]
The next morning, restless and curious, Shams stepped out of the house.. THEY have no TV in their bachelor apartment, but the nearby tea stall had one mounted on the wall. A crowd was already gathered.
The screen flickered with breaking news.
"Breaking on X TV: Mass confusion spreads across the nation. Thousands—possibly millions—claim to have heard voices in their minds last night. Phrases like 'Battle for Growth' and 'national destiny' are being repeated. Scientists, religious leaders, and politicians remain speechless."
A reporter appeared on screen, standing in front of a government building.
"Is this divine intervention… a foreign psychological operation… or the beginning of something the world has never seen before? What is Battle for Growth? And what will it demand from us?"
Shams watched the screen silently, eyes locked. Around him, people argued, speculated, shouted in panic or excitement.
But he stood still.
"So it's not just me," he whispered to himself. "It's real. It's really happening."
Back to the Present—
Miraz blinked, face stiff with disbelief.
"Whaat...? Things like that actually happened?" he muttered, almost to himself.
Shams rolled his eyes, leaning back with an irritated sigh.
"Bro, this news played on every damn channel. Even tea stall TVs were buzzing about it. Even if you didn't hear the voice in your head… how the hell do you not know about the news?"
Miraz looked away, scratching his head like he was trying to remember something that slipped through the cracks.
"Umm… yeah, you're right. But… I don't know, man. I was just… lost. I don't even remember what I was doing yesterday evening. Maybe I was helping Nana, maybe running errands. I guess... I didn't care."
Shams stared at him, eyes narrowing. Then, deadpan—
"You're really a dumbass."
Miraz looked back at him, embarrassed, but didn't argue.
Shams shook his head and crossed his arms.
"Anyway. The government made an announcement. They said they'll wait for the Level 2 information to arrive in two days before taking any steps. So, for now—nobody knows exactly what we're supposed to do."
Miraz gave a slow nod.
"Oh… okay."
Then he looked up at Shams again, a little more serious now.
"So you really think this thing… this 'Battle for Growth'... it's real? That it can actually change the fate of a country?"
Shams didn't answer immediately. He looked toward the cracked window, eyes distant.
"It's the first time I've felt like… maybe my dream of helping this country isn't completely hopeless."
Silence hung between them for a moment.
Then Shams added, his voice calm but firm—
"And if this is real… then I'm not watching from the sidelines."
Miraz scoffed, his voice bitter, almost cracking.
"But I don't want to do anything for this nation."
He looked down at his bandaged hands, clenching his fists.
"What did this nation ever give me? Nothing. My gramps gave his life fighting for it—sacrificed everything. And what did we get in return? Slums. Humiliation. People calling me a rajakar's grandchild. Treated like a stray dog wherever I go."
His voice trembled with rage and pain.
"I don't owe this country a damn thing."
Shams didn't respond right away. He sat there, silent for a moment, then let out a long, heavy sigh.
He didn't look angry. He just looked… tired.
"It's not our nation's fault, Miraz."
His tone was softer now, more grounded.
"It's the people who run it. The ones who twist stories. The ones who turn heroes into villains and then sit on thrones built on lies."
He looked at Miraz, eyes sharp but calm.
"This land—this soil—it's still ours. It didn't betray your grandfather. The system did."
Shams leaned forward, his voice steady, almost like he was convincing himself too.
"We've been blaming the country for the sins of the corrupt. But maybe… just maybe… this is our chance to change that."
"Battle for Growth isn't just a game. If it's real—it's a restart button. Not for them… for us."
Miraz stared at him, jaw clenched.
The fire in his eyes hadn't died. But now, it flickered with something else—uncertainty. Doubt. Or maybe… a spark of belief.