The pre-dawn air in Vanaranya Forest was cool and damp, carrying the scent of unknown blossoms and the faint, metallic tang of Ravi's own drying blood. He hadn't slept much. Arjun Singh's words, the chilling implication of his knowledge about Bhiwani, had replayed in his mind like a stuck record. Every creak of a branch, every rustle of leaves, had him tensing, expecting the Ghee-Slicked Menace to reappear.
Chandani, surprisingly, had managed some rest, her youthful resilience shining through. She awoke with a small gasp as Ravi gently shook her shoulder. "Time to move, Moonlight. Devraj's love shack won't scout itself."
His attempt at humor was thin, but Chandani offered a wan smile. "Let's hope his 'love shack' is less… aggressively fragrant than his head goon."
They moved with renewed caution, Ravi's [Eyes of the Scrap God] working overtime. The system seemed to have subtly upgraded after the encounter with Arjun; he could now perceive fainter traces, almost like heat signatures, of recent humanoid passage. He also noticed a new, persistent icon in his peripheral vision: 'MANA: 35/100'. So, I have a Mana pool now? Must be from that Beast Core, or just being in this magic-soaked world. He made a mental note to experiment with it later, if he survived the day.
The Gandak River was wider and faster than Ravi had anticipated, its waters a murky brown, swirling with debris. On a bluff overlooking a narrow crossing point stood the ruined watchtower. It was a skeletal structure of crumbling stone, draped in creepers, yet wisps of smoke curled from a makeshift chimney, and crude barricades of sharpened logs guarded its approach. Two sentries, looking bored and poorly equipped, patrolled the perimeter.
"Not exactly Indra's fortress, is it?" Ravi muttered, observing from the cover of dense foliage across the river. "Looks more like a rundown dharamshala (pilgrim's rest house) after a particularly rowdy festival."
Chandani, however, looked concerned. "Don't underestimate it, Ravi. Devraj is cunning. The dilapidated appearance could be a deception. And even two alert guards can raise an alarm that brings down a hornet's nest."
"True," Ravi conceded. "So, direct approach is out. Surprise party it is." His eyes scanned the area, his mind already sifting through possibilities like he was evaluating a pile of scrap for hidden gems. The river current was strong. The bluff was steep. But there was one potential weakness…
His [Eyes of the Scrap God] highlighted a partially collapsed section of the watchtower's rear wall, obscured by thick ivy and leading, it seemed, to a lower, less guarded level. Accessing it would mean a risky climb up the cliff face, away from the main path.
"See that overgrown section back there?" Ravi pointed. "Looks like our invitation. You wait here, stay hidden. If things go south, and I mean 'Arjun Singh showing up for round two' south, you run. Head for the Sunstone Monastery. Don't wait for me. Understood?"
Chandani bit her lip, her amethyst eyes filled with worry. "Ravi, this is too dangerous. Let me come with you. I can…"
"You can stay safe," Ravi interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "Your healing is good for scrapes, not for getting skewered. I'm faster alone, and quieter. Besides," he tapped the side of his head, "my unique brand of 'trash-fu' works best solo. Trust me on this."
Reluctantly, Chandani nodded. "Be careful, Ravi. Please."
"Careful is my middle name… actually, no, that's still 'Danger-Prone'," he winked, then slipped away, moving with the silence of a predator.
He crossed the river downstream, where the current was slightly less fierce, using submerged rocks and fallen logs as cover. The water was cold, shocking his system, but his [Adaptive Metabolism] quickly adjusted, preventing a debilitating chill. The climb up the bluff was treacherous. Loose stones crumbled under his grip, and thorny vines tore at his clothes and skin. But his enhanced strength and agility, a gift from this new world, saw him through.
Reaching the collapsed wall, he peered through a gap in the ivy. It led into a dark, damp storeroom, filled with sacks of grain, barrels of questionable liquid, and discarded weaponry. Empty. Perfect.
He slipped inside, the scent of stale ale, sweat, and something vaguely metallic – blood? – assaulting his nostrils. He moved deeper into the watchtower, his senses on high alert. The place was a maze of narrow corridors and crumbling chambers. He could hear the rough laughter of men from a larger room above, the clinking of mugs.
His [Eyes of the Scrap God] were a godsend, highlighting tripwires, creaky floorboards, and even the faint aura of enchanted items. He avoided patrols, sticking to the shadows, his movements economical and precise. He was a ghost in the machine, a scavenger in a new, more dangerous junkyard.
He found what looked like Devraj's personal quarters – a slightly larger room, still spartan, but with a heavy wooden desk, a cot, and a few chests. The air here was thick with the smell of sandalwood incense, struggling to mask something fouler. Ravi's nose twitched. It was a scent he knew, faintly, from his previous life – a specific, acrid chemical used in cheap firecrackers… and cruder explosives.
Interesting.
He began to search, his fingers expertly and silently probing. He found little of immediate value – some coins, a few poorly drawn maps of the forest. Then, in a locked drawer of the desk, his [Eyes of the Scrap God] flared. It pulsed with a distinct, malevolent purple aura. 'Dark Mana Signature – Trap (Minor Explosive Rune)'.
"Clever bastard," Ravi muttered. He examined the lock. It was simple, easily picked with a sturdy piece of wire he'd 'salvaged' from a broken birdcage earlier. But the rune… He needed to disable it. He focused, trying to channel that inner energy, the Mana he now knew he possessed. He pictured the rune unraveling, its power dissipating. A faint warmth spread from his palm as he touched the drawer. The purple aura around the rune flickered, then faded.
Holy crap, I can do magic? Sort of? He'd have to explore that later.
Inside the drawer, he found a ledger and a series of rolled-up parchments. The ledger detailed supplies, troop movements, and, most disturbingly, bounties – including a hefty sum for 'Chandani of Suryavanshi, alive or dead' and a smaller, but still significant, one for 'any information leading to the capture of the Star-Fallen anomaly known as Ravi.'
His name. Staring back at him in neat, inked script. The chilling confirmation sent a jolt through him. They knew.
He quickly unrolled the parchments. Most were mundane orders, but one caught his eye. It was a letter, sealed with a wolf's head insignia, but the handwriting was different, more elegant, than the brutish scrawl in the ledger.
"Devraj," it began, "The girl is proving more troublesome than anticipated, as is the… anomaly accompanying her. Your failure to secure her at the river crossing was noted. Lord Mahipal grows impatient. The Sunstone Monastery must not become a rallying point for resistance. Ensure it is… neutralized. The 'package' from the Shadowfen Mages will arrive by the next moon. Use it wisely. Its properties are… persuasive. Remember your oaths, Devraj. Failure will have consequences far more severe than Arjun Singh's temper."
It was signed with a single, stylized initial: 'K'.
"K?" Ravi whispered. "Who the hell is K?" This was bigger than just Devraj and Mahipal. The Shadowfen Mages? A 'package'? Neutralize a monastery? This smelled like a conspiracy far deeper and darker than a simple power grab.
Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Devraj himself?
Ravi quickly rolled up the parchment and the ledger, stuffing them into his tunic. He didn't have time to escape the way he came. He scanned the room. A narrow, grime-streaked window, barely large enough for a child to slip through, offered the only other exit. It overlooked a steep drop onto a rocky outcrop. Risky, but better than facing Devraj and his men head-on.
The door handle turned.
Ravi launched himself at the window. He smashed through the flimsy wooden frame and rotten glass with his shoulder, the impact jarring but his [Adaptive Metabolism] already mitigating the damage. He twisted in mid-air, aiming for a patch of overgrown bushes he'd spotted on the outcrop below.
He landed hard, rolling, the bushes breaking his fall somewhat but thorns still ripping at him. Pain shot through his ankle. Sprained, definitely sprained.
"Intruder! He's in my quarters! Seal the exits!" a voice roared from above – deep, commanding, and filled with fury. Devraj.
Ravi didn't hesitate. Adrenaline masking the pain in his ankle, he scrambled to his feet, favoring his good leg. He had to get back to Chandani, get them both out of here.
He half-limped, half-ran along the rocky outcrop, looking for a way down. Below, he could see raiders swarming out of the watchtower, fanning out, their shouts echoing across the river.
"There he is! On the cliffs!"
Arrows whistled past his head, thudding into the rock face around him. One grazed his arm, drawing a fresh line of crimson.
"You're making this too easy, trash picker!" a familiar, booming voice called out. Arjun Singh. He stood on the watchtower ramparts, his ghee-slicked mace glinting, his glowing eyes fixed on Ravi with murderous intent. "Did you enjoy my captain's hospitality?"
"The decor needs work, and your boss needs a new hobby!" Ravi yelled back, spotting a narrow fissure in the rock that might offer a precarious descent. He had to move, now.
As he started to climb down, a chilling sound reached him – a woman's scream. Chandani.
His blood ran cold. He looked across the river, to where he'd left her hidden. Two raiders were dragging her out of the thicket, her silver hair disheveled, her face pale with terror.
"No!" Ravi roared, a primal fury surging through him, eclipsing the pain in his ankle, the fear, everything. They had Chandani.
Arjun Singh laughed, a cruel, triumphant sound. "It seems your little princess wasn't as well hidden as you thought, rat. Or perhaps," his voice dropped, laced with a sly insinuation, "someone helped us find her."
Ravi froze mid-climb. Someone helped them?
His [Eyes of the Scrap God] flared, not with analysis, but with a sudden, sickening realization. He remembered a detail from the watchtower, something he'd dismissed. On Devraj's desk, tucked beneath a pile of maps, he'd seen a small, intricately carved wooden bird – a messenger bird token. And near the bushes where he'd left Chandani, he'd noticed a few scattered, unusual seeds, the kind used to feed such birds. He hadn't thought anything of it at the time.
The puzzle pieces slammed together with brutal clarity. The ease with which Arjun had found them in the cave. The precision of the raiders finding Chandani now.
There was a traitor. And the only person who knew Chandani's exact location, the only one who could have sent a message…
Ravi's gaze shot to Chandani. She was struggling, but her eyes were wide, not just with fear, but with a dawning horror, a look of utter betrayal. Her gaze wasn't on her captors. It was fixed on something – or someone – behind them, deeper in the forest.
Following her gaze, Ravi saw a figure step out from the shadows. Slender, cloaked, their face obscured. But there was something familiar in their stance, in the way they held themselves.
And then, the figure spoke, their voice clear and cold, carrying across the river. "Well done, Captain Devraj. As promised, the girl is yours. My part of the bargain is fulfilled."
The hood fell back.
Ravi's heart plummeted. He recognized the fine, aristocratic features, the carefully neutral expression that now seemed like a mask for unimaginable deceit.
It was Vasudev. Chandani's father. The Royal Advisor. The man who had supposedly told her to run, to seek sanctuary.
The scent of betrayal, sharper and more poisonous than any Visha-Sarpa's venom, filled the air. Ravi felt a cold fury, a profound disgust. He had risked his neck, fought monsters and goons, all to protect a girl whose own father had just sold her out.
The world, it seemed, was full of trash, no matter which dimension you were in. And some of it wore very convincing disguises.