The forest didn't just want to kill us; it wanted to digest us slowly.
Thirty minutes. That's how long we had been walking since the crash site, following the glowing gold thread on my phone screen. It felt like thirty years.
My shoulder was a screaming knot of agony. Every step sent a fresh jolt of electricity down my arm, making my vision blur. I was operating on adrenaline, fear, and the sheer, stubborn refusal to die before I cleared my student loans.[1]
"My Gucci loafers are ruined," Vikram moaned from behind me. He was practically carrying Javed, his expensive Italian leather shoes squelching loudly in the black, oily mud. "Do you know how much these cost? I could have bought a Nano with these. A Nano, Dhruv! A whole car!"
"Vikram," Javed grunted, wincing as his broken leg dragged over a root. "If you mention the price of your shoes one more time, I swear on my mother, I will use my 'Berserker Potential' to beat you to death with them."
"I'm just saying! It's suede! You can't get monster blood out of suede! It stains the soul!"
"Priorities, guys," Riya muttered, adjusting her backpack. "We are literally walking through hell, and you're worried about footwear fashion."
"Fashion is the only thing separating us from the animals," Vikram retorted, slipping on a patch of slime. "That, and opposable thumbs."
"Quiet," I hissed, not stopping. I kept my eyes scanning the dark tree line. "Keep your voices down."
"Why?" Vikram whispered loudly. "We haven't seen a monster in ten minutes. Maybe they clocked out? Union break?"
I stopped and turned around, pointing the rusted tip of my axle at his chest.
"Just because we aren't encountering monsters right this second doesn't mean we are safe," I snapped, my patience fraying. "And it definitely doesn't mean you have the luxury to worry about your shoes. We are being herded, Vikram. Not ignored."
The group froze. The reality of my words sank in, silencing the banter.
The forest was unnaturally quiet. The distant howling—the Hee-hee-kkhhh of the pack—had faded about ten minutes ago. That bothered me more than the noise. Predators don't stop hunting just because they get bored. They stop because they are herding prey into a corner.
"Kabir?" I whispered.
Our blind seer was standing a few feet ahead, his head tilted toward the canopy. The massive stone gears in the sky churned silently above us, blocking out the stars. Their bioluminescent moss cast long, dancing shadows that looked like grasping fingers.
"The wind changed," Kabir said softly. He tapped his cane against a tree trunk. Thock. Thock. "The air is... cleaner here. Less metallic."
"Cleaner?" Riya asked, adjusting the straps of the backpack she'd filled with water bottles. Her face was streaked with dried tears and mud, but her eyes were sharp. "I smell... burning?"
I sniffed the air. She was right.
It wasn't the sulfur smell of the monster. It was woodsmoke. Sandalwood. And beneath that... something that made my stomach roar in protest.
Spices. Ghee. Roasting meat.
"Biryani?" Javed's eyes went wide. "tell me I'm hallucinating. Please tell me I'm having a concussion dream."
"If you are, then we're sharing it," Vikram said, sniffing loudly. "That smells like cardamom. High quality too."
I looked at my phone. The gold line on the map ended just fifty meters ahead.
[ WAYPOINT REACHED ]
[ SAFE ZONE DETECTED * ]
"We're here," I said, pointing through the thicket of black vines.
"Safe Zone with a star?" I muttered, squinting at the screen. "Terms and conditions apply?"
"Who cares about the fine print?" Vikram said, practically drooling as he looked ahead. "It says 'Safe'. That's the only word I care about."
We pushed through the last barrier of thorny brush and stumbled into a clearing. And for a moment, we all just stood there, our brains refusing to process the data.
It was like stepping out of a horror movie and into a period drama.
The black, twisted trees stopped abruptly, forming a perfect circle. Inside the circle, the mud was replaced by clean, paved stone. In the center stood a building that defied the logic of the Gear Sky.
It was a traditional Vedic Ashram—a hermitage—but scaled up. Thick pillars of white stone supported a sloping roof made of terracotta tiles. Gentle, warm light spilled from the open windows, casting a golden glow on a well-tended garden of jasmine and tulsi plants.
It looked peaceful. It looked divine.
It looked completely sus.
"No way," I muttered, gripping my iron spear tighter. "This is a trap. It has to be."
"Dhruv, look," Riya whispered, pointing to the garden. "Actual flowers. Not bleeding, screaming plants. Just flowers."
"I don't care," I said, though my resolve was crumbling. "The System also called that monster a 'Scout'. The System is a sociopath."
"I don't care if it's a trap run by Dracula himself," Javed groaned, hopping on his good leg. "If I don't sit down in the next thirty seconds, my femur is going to exit my body. I'm going in."
"Wait—"
Before I could stop them, Vikram and Javed hobbled onto the paved stone.
Nothing happened. No alarms. No spikes shooting out of the ground. Just the gentle rustle of jasmine leaves.
"It feels... warm," Riya whispered, holding her hand out. "The cold... it stops at the edge of the clearing."
Kabir stepped onto the stone, tapping his cane. He frowned. "The vibration of the gears... it is dampened here. It is quiet."
We walked toward the large wooden doors of the ashram. I kept my spear raised, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Knock. Knock.
The heavy wooden doors creaked open.
Standing there were two men.
They looked like they had walked straight out of a mythological TV serial, minus the bad CGI halos. They were old, but not frail. Their skin was the color of polished teak, wrinkled like ancient parchment. They wore simple, saffron-colored dhotis.
One of them—the one on the left—had a long, flowing white beard and eyes that twinkled with a mischief that felt surprisingly youthful.
The other one was shorter, stouter, and bald. He wore a stained apron over his dhoti and held a massive wooden ladle that smelled of heaven.
"Guests!" the bearded one exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. His voice was booming and warm. "By the eternal gears, Vata! Look! We have guests! And so young! "
The bald one, Vata, just grunted. He looked us up and down, his eyes lingering on Javed's leg, then nodded. He turned and walked back into the house without a word.
"Forgive my brother," the bearded man laughed. "He is a genius with a spice box, but he has the conversational skills of a brick. I am Ilvala. That grumpy silent fellow is Vatapi."
"Ilvala... Vatapi..." Kabir murmured, his brow furrowing behind his dark glasses. He tapped his cane against the stone floor, a nervous, staccato rhythm. "I know those names. I've heard them before."
"Yeah, probably in history class," Vikram scoffed, eyeing the open door hungrily. "While we were sleeping, you were actually listening to the lectures."
"No," Kabir whispered, more to himself than us. He looked troubled, his mind grasping at a memory that kept slipping away like smoke. "Not history. Mythology. But... I can't remember the story. It feels... important."
Ilvala smiled smoothly, stepping closer. "Many sages share names in the ancient texts, young Seer. Do not strain your mind. Hunger clouds the memory, and fear scrambles the wits."
He bowed low, a gesture of ancient respect. "Welcome to the Guest House of the Twin Sages. Please, please, come in before the dampness sets into your bones."
I didn't move. I pointed the rusty tip of my axle at his chest.
"Answer the question first," I said, though I lowered the spear slightly. "Who are you? What is this place?"
"A Safe Zone," Ilvala said simply. "The monsters cannot enter here. The System forbids it. We are merely... guides. Facilitators for the Protocol."
"Guides?" Vikram perked up, ignoring the roast. "Like... Tutorial NPCs?"
Ilvala chuckled. "If you wish to use your video game terminology, yes. Think of us as the 'Tutorial'. Now, bring your crippled friend inside. Vata has made Mutton Rogan Josh. And trust me, you heal faster on a full stomach."
The mention of Rogan Josh broke us.
We shuffled inside. The interior was massive, lit by oil lamps that burned without smoke. It was warm. It was dry. It felt so incredibly safe that I wanted to cry.
We helped Javed sit on a pile of cushions. I stayed standing near the door, spear in hand.
"Relax, boy," Ilvala said, pouring water from a copper vessel. "If we wanted to kill you, we would have just left the door locked. The Rakshasas outside smell your blood. They are pacing the barrier right now."
He handed me a cup. "Drink. It is tulsi water."
I took a sip. It was warm and soothing. I looked at Ilvala. He seemed... normal. Just an old man trying to help.
"So," I said, wiping my mouth. "You said this is a Protocol. What does that mean?"
Ilvala sat down on a raised wooden stool, smoothing his beard. His expression turned serious, the playful twinkle in his eyes replaced by something ancient and heavy.
"Tell me, children. Why do you think you are here?"
"We crashed," Vikram blurted out. "The driver... he took a shortcut and—"
"Accidents happen," Ilvala interrupted softly. "But usually, accidents lead to hospitals or morgues. Not to the Khandava-Prastha."
He gestured to the ceiling, to the grinding sounds of the gears above.
"This world... it is a forge. And you are the iron."
"That's cryptic and unhelpful," I muttered.
"It is the truth," Ilvala said sharply. "The Kali Yuga is ending. The cycle is turning. The Gods... the Admins, as you might call them... they have grown tired of humanity's weakness. You have forgotten the old ways. You rely on machines, on electricity, on comfort."
He leaned forward, his eyes burning with intensity.
"So, they initiated the Protocol. A merger. The ancient myths have been digitized. The monsters of old have been given levels and stats. And humanity? Humanity has been given a choice."
"What choice?" Riya whispered.
"Evolve," Ilvala said. "Or be deleted."
He stood up and began pacing slowly around the room.
"You ask why? Humans always ask why. 'Why me? Why us?' Do you think the ant asks why the boot crushes it? No. The ant bites, or it dies. The System gives you the power to bite back."
"We didn't ask for this!" Vikram shouted, his voice cracking. "I have a life! I have exams next week! I don't want to 'bite back', I want to go home!"
"Then earn it," Ilvala said cold, his grandfatherly demeanor vanishing for a second. "The exit to this zone is through the forest. But you cannot leave as you are. You are weak. Pathetic. A Level 1 Human is barely more than a snack for a Lesser Rakshasa."
He pointed to Javed. "His leg needs mending." He pointed to me. "Your shoulder needs setting." He pointed to Riya. "Your mind needs steeling."
"And how do we do that?" I asked.
"You gain Experience," Ilvala said, his smile returning, warm and inviting once again. "You level up. You choose a Class. You become something... more. But you cannot evolve on an empty stomach."
Just then, Vatapi entered with a massive steaming cauldron. The smell hit us like a physical wave. Rich, spicy, meaty aroma filled the room, instantly overriding my fear with primal hunger.
Vatapi set the pot down. System windows popped up in front of all of us.
[ SYSTEM ITEM DETECTED ]
ITEM NAME: Sage's Mutton Stew (Epic Consumable)
DESCRIPTION: A hearty stew prepared by the master chef Vatapi.
EFFECTS:
> Restores 100% Health
> Cures 'Broken Bone' Status
> Buff: +5 STR for 24 Hours*
[ WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONSUME? (Y/N) ]
"100% Health?" Javed gasped. "Bro, this is magic potion stuff."
"Look at the buff!" Vikram pointed at the air. "Plus five Strength! But... wait. Why is there a star next to the time?"
I looked closely. There it was again. The asterisk. *
"Hey, Ilvala," I asked, pointing at the box. "What does the star mean? It was on the 'Safe Zone' notification too."
Ilvala laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Ah, the System and its notation. It simply means 'Temporary'. The Strength boost lasts only a day. Just like the Safe Zone."
My heart skipped a beat. "The Safe Zone is temporary?"
"Of course," Ilvala smiled, tearing a piece of naan bread. "Did you think you could live in the tutorial forever, Dhruv? The barrier runs on mana. It will hold for... oh, perhaps twelve more hours? Then it fades, and the forest reclaims the land."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"That is why you must eat. You need the strength to leave before the walls come down. It is not a trap, my boy. It is simply... a deadline."
I let out a long breath I didn't know I was holding. A deadline. That made sense. That fit the 'Game Logic'. If this was a permanent paradise, I would be suspicious. But a temporary shelter with a timer? That sounded exactly like something a System would design to force us to keep moving.
"Okay," I said, finally relaxing. I sat down on the mat. "Okay. That makes sense."
"Good," Ilvala beamed. "Now eat. Vatapi gets offended if you leave leftovers."
"Excuse me," Kabir interrupted, his voice polite but firm. He hadn't picked up his bowl. "Is there a vegetarian option? I don't eat meat."
Ilvala paused. For a second, the warmth in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flash of annoyance, but it vanished so quickly I thought I imagined it.
"Vegetarian?" Ilvala sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed grandfather. "My boy, look outside. The plants in this forest have teeth. Growing a potato here requires a blood sacrifice. The Mutton is all we have."
"Then I'll pass," Kabir said, pushing his bowl slightly away. "I'm not hungry."
"You will miss the healing," Ilvala warned, his tone sharpening. "You will miss the Strength."
"I'll survive," Kabir said simply, adjusting his dark glasses.
"More for us!" Vikram declared, grabbing Kabir's bowl. "Sorry, bro, but my survival instinct is strictly carnivorous right now."
We ate.
The meat melted in my mouth. It was rich, savory, and filled me with a warmth that spread to my fingertips.
As soon as I swallowed the first bite, a chime rang in my head.
[ HP RESTORED: 10% ]
[ FATIGUE REDUCED ]
"Oh my god," Vikram moaned around a mouthful. "This is the best thing I've ever tasted. Ilvala, can I get this recipe? Seriously, I'll invest. We can open a franchise in Indiranagar."
"Focus on surviving the night first, entrepreneur," Ilvala chuckled, watching us eat with a keen interest.
Javed was eating ravenously. "My leg," he said, his mouth full. "It's tingling. The pain is gone. I think... I think the bone is actually fusing."
I rotated my shoulder. The dull ache was fading. It worked.
"More?" Ilvala asked, pushing the cauldron closer. "Finish it all. Do not waste the blessing."
We scraped our bowls clean. Vikram even wiped his bread around the rim of the cauldron. Kabir sat silently, his hands folded on his lap, his head tilted as if listening to a song only he could hear.
For twenty minutes, we were just college students again. Vikram made jokes about the 'primitive' interior design. Riya laughed, the color returning to her cheeks. Javed flexed his healed leg, marveling at the miracle.
I sat back, feeling full and warm. My HP bar was full. My fatigue was gone. The nightmare outside felt miles away.
"You have eaten well," Ilvala said, his voice soft. He was still sitting on his stool, watching us.
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "Really. You saved our lives."
"We did," Ilvala agreed. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "It is a rare pleasure to have guests with such... hearty appetites. It makes the ritual so much easier."
"Ritual?" Vikram asked, wiping gravy from his chin. "What ritual?"
Ilvala smiled. And this time, the smile didn't stop. It stretched too wide, pulling the skin of his face taut until I could hear it creak. His eyes, previously twinkling, went flat and dead—the milky yellow of a corpse.
"The Ritual of Pravesh—Entry," Ilvala whispered. "You see, we do not believe in guests leaving empty-handed. We believe that once you enter our home, you should carry the essence of the host with you. Forever."
He leaned back, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the floor.
"And my brother... he is very attached to his work."
The air in the room suddenly felt very cold.
"Where is the cook?" Kabir asked, his voice trembling. "Ilvala... where is Vatapi?"
Ilvala stood up. His shadow elongated, stretching across the floor, swallowing us in darkness.
"You asked for him earlier," Ilvala said, his voice becoming a grinding growl. "And you enjoyed him very much."
He pointed a long, crooked finger at Javed's stomach. Then at mine.
"But now... playtime is over."
I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't move. My stomach suddenly felt heavy. Impossibly heavy. Like I had swallowed a stone.
Ilvala threw his head back, his jaw unhinging with a wet snap. He opened his mouth and shouted, a sound that wasn't human, a sound that shook the very foundations of the ashram.
"VATAPI! ATRA AAGACHCHA!"(Vatapi! Come out!)
Javed screamed first.
He clutched his stomach, falling sideways. "Something... something is moving! Oh god! It's kicking!"
Vikram gagged, falling backward, clawing at his throat as if trying to pull something out. Riya screamed as her abdomen rippled violently, the flesh distending as if a fist was punching her from the inside.
My own stomach lurched. A sharp, searing pain ripped through my gut. It wasn't digestion. It was expansion.
System windows flashed red in my vision, overlapping, glitching, screaming.
[ CRITICAL ALERT! ]
[ PARASITIC LIFEFORM DETECTED ]
[ STATUS: 'GUEST' HAS BECOME 'HOST' ]
[ BOSS BATTLE INITIATED: THE DEVOURING TWINS ]
Ilvala laughed, the sound echoing in the sealed room.
"Dinner is served," he hissed.
And then, from inside my own stomach—muffled, wet, and terrifyingly close—I heard a voice answer him.
I am coming, brother.
[1] because this means the burden has to be carried by his parents