Holstering his pistol, Rahul cautiously scanned the area. A beautiful grey horse, tied to a tree trunk, stood trembling—shaken by the earlier violence. It must have belonged to the fleeing mid-aged man, abandoned in his retreat.
Nearby, a palanquin sat empty, its bearers having vanished the moment they witnessed their master's gruesome downfall.
Inside the palanquin lay several coin pouches brimming with currency. Without hesitation, Rahul stored them in his inventory. Gold, silver, copper—it didn't matter. Currency would always be in demand, and in this world, he had learned that the more you had, the better your chances of survival.
The guards' leather armor, torn and bloodied, was too damaged to be of immediate use. But thanks to his [Assessment] skill, he managed to extract a full inventory of spoils:
4× Swords
2× Lances
1× Bow (with 29 arrows)
1× Double Barrel Shotgun (20 buckshot rounds)
And from the palanquin, the corpses, and the accountant's pouch, he acquired a solid haul:
97 copper coins, 229 silver coins, and 77 gold coins.
As Rahul organized his loot, he noticed the woman—Revatibala—sitting silently nearby. She clutched a semi-rusted cleaver with both hands, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Her reaction was understandable. After all, she had just witnessed a stranger single-handedly mow down a group of armed men without flinching.
Rahul's modern clothing—jeans and a t-shirt—contrasted starkly with the guards' traditional turbans, dhotis, and kurtas. To someone like her, he must have appeared almost alien.
But someone had to break the silence.
"What is your name?" Rahul asked gently.
"Ehh..." she murmured, her blank expression and hesitant tone making the moment oddly endearing.
"My name is Rahul," he continued. "What's yours?"
"I... I'm Revatibala Munda. Widow of Bhandari Munda."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Munda," Rahul replied. "Please don't be afraid. I'm new to this place, and I could use a little help. That's all."
After some hesitation, she nodded. It took her nearly an hour to shake off the trauma of what had nearly happened and what she had witnessed.
For Rahul, the interaction was deeply refreshing. After so long in solitude, it felt almost surreal to be speaking to another human being again.
Revatibala was simple, soft-spoken, and quietly beautiful—enough to make eye contact difficult for Rahul at times. He asked her where and when they were, hoping to make sense of his surroundings. She confirmed that they were in Bengal, but the calendar she referred to was a regional one, vastly different from the Gregorian dates Rahul was used to.
She spoke of foreign colonists occupying inland territories and the coasts—men who had built cannon-armed ships and towering forts. They didn't sound like British redcoats or East India Company soldiers. These colonists were something else entirely.
One thing became clear: this wasn't Rahul's India, at least not from the time he remembered. This was something older, stranger, and far more volatile.
She also identified the men Rahul had killed and warned him of the potential consequences. But after assessing the landlord's limited access to firepower, Rahul felt slightly reassured. They might have numbers, but they didn't have strategy—or his kind of weaponry.
Disposing of the bodies, however, remained a problem.
"Half a kilometer from here, there's a dumping ground," Revatibala offered.
That was too far to manage on foot, especially with corpses. Hiring a cart was an option, but it posed its own risks.
What surprised Rahul most was how real Revatibala felt. She wasn't like a game NPC with looping dialogue. She had thoughts, fear, hesitation—real emotions. This world, despite its game-like elements, was very much alive.
"There's a..." she paused, watching him carefully.
"There's what?" Rahul asked, sensing her reluctance.
"There's someone—Kalidas Murmu—he can take care of the bodies. He even pays for them."
Rahul's mind raced. Organ trafficking? Necrophilia? But in this era, organ trade seemed unlikely.
Still, he weighed his options. These men had committed atrocities. If they were defiled in death, perhaps it was still a lesser crime than the ones they had lived.
"Is it safe?" he asked.
"Yes. It's his business. He buys all kinds of... salvageable things."
"Call him, then."
About half an hour later, Kalidas arrived with Revatibala. A tall man with fair skin and scars decorating his body like tribal war paint, he carried himself with confidence and a disarming smile.
"Hello, sir," Kalidas greeted. "My name is Kalidas. I buy and sell everything that is humanly possible."
Rahul smiled internally. Nice catchphrase.
"I have these bodies, some weapons, and that palanquin for sale," Rahul said, pointing.
Kalidas scanned the area quickly, noting every item. "And the horse?"
"Not for sale," Rahul replied firmly.
Kalidas looked disappointed, but quickly regained his composure.
"One corpse with a breached chest cavity—vital organs destroyed," he muttered clinically. "Another with a shattered spine. Third, face almost unrecognizable, neck damage nearing decapitation. And the last—multiple internal bleeds, likely due to perforated lungs."
He paused, then turned to Rahul. "Sir, how did you cause these kinds of wounds?"
Rahul's expression hardened. "You buy corpses. I haven't asked what you plan to do with them. Don't ask how I made them."
Kalidas understood immediately. He bowed slightly. "My apologies for the question."
They moved on to negotiation.
4 silver coins for the corpses
1 silver coin for the damaged armor
35 silver coins for the palanquin
8 silver coins for the swords
2 silver for the lances
1 silver + 50 copper coins for the bow and arrows
Total: 53 silver coins and 50 copper coins.
Rahul also requested a horse-driven cart.
"Normally, that's 4 silver coins for a month," Kalidas said. "But for a new customer, I'll give a discount—50 copper off."
With this deal, Rahul's funds rose once again. The currency system here was simple enough—100 copper = 1 silver, 100 silver = 1 gold. Anything beyond gold was used only in the capital or royal courts.
This area, being on the kingdom's edge, rarely saw anything beyond silver, let alone gold. Even what Rahul had collected was significant.
The site had now been cleaned—of bodies, blood, and violence.
It was time to plan. He had to decide what to do next—and how Revatibala would fit into those plans.
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🔜 Coming Up Next – Chapter 5: Lines That Shouldn't Exist
Rahul may have slain monsters and silenced guns—but the cruelest force he meets yet is society itself. When kindness collides with caste, and generosity clashes with bigotry, even breakfast becomes a battlefield.
As whispers grow and eyes begin to follow, alliances form, suspicions rise, and something darker stirs beneath the surface of this so-called civilization.
❤️ If you're loving the journey, show your support with a vote, comment, or bookmark! Chapter 5 drops soon—don't miss the shift.