The adrenaline didn't leave my system; it evaporated, leaving behind a residue of pure, unadulterated panic.
We stood at the edge of the clearing, staring into the abyss of the Khandava-Prastha. The golden light of our newly conquered Safe Zone felt like a mockery now. It was a warm, inviting hearth in the middle of a graveyard, but we couldn't stay. We had won the battle, but we were losing the war.
[ QUEST STARTED: RETRIEVE THE HEALER ]
[ TIME LIMIT: UNKNOWN ]
The distance marker next to Riya's name was climbing, ticking upward with a mechanical indifference that made my stomach churn.
[ 180m... 250m... 300m... ]
"She's moving fast," I said, my voice tight, the words scraping against my dry throat. I gripped my Black Iron Spear until my knuckles turned white, the cold metal biting into my palm. "Too fast while carrying a human. That Stalker isn't walking; it's sprinting. It knows the terrain."
"Where is it taking her?" Javed asked, checking his new bronze shield for cracks. He looked like a mythological tank, clad in the translucent, heavy armor of the Vajra Sentinel, but his face was pale, slick with sweat. "Is it... is it eating her? Do Stalkers have lairs? Do they have... nests?"
"No," Kabir said. He was kneeling on the ground, his hand pressing into the mud where the Stalker had leaped. His head was cocked, his ears tracking a sound none of us could hear. "If it wanted to eat her, it would have done it here. Predators don't carry takeout unless they have a family to feed. Or..."
"Or what?" Vikram asked, his crystal bow still humming with prismatic light. He looked nauseous, likely from the combination of killing things and being forced into perfect posture by the System. He kept rubbing his shoulder, wincing. "Or what, Kabir? Don't leave us hanging on the 'Or'."
"Or if she is merchandise," Kabir finished, his voice devoid of emotion.
He stood up, brushing dirt from his saffron robe. The robe, looted from Ilvala, fit him strangely well, giving him the air of a young, blind monk who had seen too much of the world.
"The tracks don't lead deeper into the wild forest," Kabir said, pointing his cane towards a massive, looming shadow on the horizon that blotted out the turning gears of the sky. "They lead to the Tree."
I looked where he pointed.
In the distance, dominating the skyline even more than the Gear Sky, was a tree.
But calling it a tree was like calling the ocean a puddle. It was a Banyan tree the size of a skyscraper. Its aerial roots hung down like suspension cables, thick as highway pillars, forming bridges and walkways that connected to the forest floor. Bioluminescent lights—neon blue, toxic pink, burning orange—flickered among its branches like a diseased city skyline.
It wasn't just a plant. It was a metropolis.
"Mayasura's Bazaar," I whispered, reading the System tag that appeared in my vision, the text floating in the air like dust motes.
[ LOCATION DISCOVERED: MAYASURA'S BAZAAR ]
[ ZONE TYPE: NEUTRAL / TRADE ]
[ WARNING: HIGH-LEVEL ENTITIES DETECTED ]
"A bazaar?" Vikram squinted, shielding his eyes from the distant glow. "Like... a market? In hell? Do they take UPI?"
"If there's a market, there are traders," I said, my mind racing, calculating probabilities. "And if there are traders, there are slaves. That Stalker isn't a gourmet; he's a wholesaler. He saw a Healer—a high-value asset—and he snatched her to sell to the highest bidder."
I looked at my team. We were Level 2. We had cool classes, sure. We had defeated a Level 3 Warlord. But looking at that tree, at the sheer scale of it, I knew we were ants walking into a nest of hornets.
"We can't fight our way in," I said, shaking my head. "The guards at the gate will be Level 10 at least. Maybe higher. If we draw weapons, we die before we even cross the threshold."
"So what do we do?" Javed asked, slamming his fist into his palm. "Knock? Ask nicely? 'Excuse me, Mr. Monster, can we have our friend back?'"
"No," Kabir interrupted, his voice surprisingly firm. "We deceive them."
He turned his sightless gaze toward the distant lights. "In the old stories, there were those who walked between worlds. The Chandalas. The keepers of the cremation grounds. They were considered unclean, spiritually polluted. Even demons hesitated to touch them, for fear of tainting their own karma."
"Ash-Bearers," I realized, looking at my hands, still stained with soot. "We already smell like death."
"Exactly," Kabir nodded. "If we carry the scent of the end, they will not eat us. We spoil the meat. We pose as Scavengers. We tell them we found something... valuable."
He pointed his cane at Vikram.
"What?" Vikram took a step back, clutching his crystal bow. "Why are you pointing at me? I don't like this. I don't like being the 'valuable' thing."
"You are the cleanest," I said, the plan forming in my mind. "You are the prettiest. You look like a pet."
"I am a Prismatic Ranger!" Vikram protested. "I am a warrior of light!"
"You are merchandise," I corrected. "And you're going on a leash."
The trek to the Bazaar took an hour. It was an hour of silent terror. We moved through the undergrowth, avoiding the main paths. The forest here was different. Closer to the city, the trees weren't just wild; they were cultivated. We passed orchards of trees that grew human ears instead of fruit. We saw a river of mercury flowing uphill.
Every shadow felt like an ambush.
When we finally reached the outskirts of the Banyan Tree, the smell hit us. It wasn't the clean scent of ozone or the rot of the forest. It was the smell of commerce. Spices, sweat, roasting meat (of dubious origin), and the metallic tang of gold.
We hid behind a massive root, observing the gate.
The entrance was a natural archway formed by two intertwining roots. It was guarded by two massive Ogres. They were twelve feet tall, skin like granite, holding clubs made of petrified wood that dripped with green slime.
[ ENEMY: DWARAPALA (Level 10) ]
"Level 10," I whispered. "One hit. That's all it would take. One hit and I'm paste."
"That's why we aren't fighting them," Kabir whispered back. "Put on the ash."
I activated [Rite of the Pyre].
[ WARNING: NO CORPSE DETECTED ]
[ ALTERNATIVE FUEL SOURCE: HP ]
[ COST: 10% HP ]
"Do it," I hissed through gritted teeth.
I burned my own blood. Pain flared in my chest, but grey smoke poured off my skin. I gathered it in my hands and smeared it over Javed's armor, over Kabir's robe, and over my own face. It was cold, flaky, and smelled of absolute finality.
[ NEW SKILL APPLICATION: ASH CAMOUFLAGE ]
[ STEALTH INCREASED ]
[ SCENT MASKED: TYPE 'DEATH' ]
"Vikram," I said, holding out the rough hemp rope. "Put it on."
Vikram stared at the rope. He looked at the Ogres. He looked at me.
"I hate you," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I hate this dimension. I hate everything."
But he put the rope around his neck.
"Remember," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "You aren't human. You are a broken thing. You are a pet. If you speak, we die. If you stand up straight, we die."
"Bark," Kabir suggested helpfully.
"Don't push it," Vikram snapped, getting down on his hands and knees in the mud.
We walked up to the Ogres.
"Halt," one of the Ogres grunted. His voice sounded like boulders grinding together in a landslide. He leaned down, a massive, tusked face sniffing me. "You smell... dead. But you walk."
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. But my [Cold Veins] passive kicked in. It flooded my system with ice, suppressing the fear response. My pulse slowed. My hands steadied.
"We are the dust-walkers," I said, pitching my voice into a raspy, gravelly register. "We scavenge the edges. We bring fresh meat for the market."
I yanked the rope. Vikram yelped, stumbling forward on his knees.
"Fresh meat," I said, gesturing to Vikram with my Black Iron Spear. "High quality. Soft hands. Never worked a day in his life. Very tender. Look at the marbling."
The Ogre looked at Vikram. He licked his lips with a tongue the size of a python, drool dripping onto the stone.
"Human," the Ogre grunted. "Rare here. Usually they scream."
"This one is broken," I lied smoothly. "Found him wandering near the Ilvala ruins. Mind is gone. Only good for eating or... entertainment."
I kicked Vikram gently in the ribs. "Show him."
Vikram flinched. He looked up at the Ogre, his eyes wide with genuine terror.
"Woof," Vikram said. It was pathetic.
"Louder," I hissed.
"WOOF!" Vikram barked, a sound of pure desperation.
The Ogre laughed. It was a booming, cruel sound that shook the ground.
"Broken indeed," the Ogre sneered. "No human would debase themselves like that unless their spirit was crushed. Go. The flesh-mongers are on the third tier."
He stepped aside.
We walked through.
The moment we crossed the threshold, the sensory overload hit us like a physical wave.
Mayasura's Bazaar was a nightmare neon dream. The "shops" were hollows carved into the living wood of the tree, spiraling up the trunk for hundreds of meters. The air was thick with the smoke of hookahs filled with glowing herbs, the smell of roasted meats, and the sound of a thousand different languages clashing.
We walked past a stall selling "Bottled Screams" (various vintages, labeled by the victim's age). We walked past a butcher chopping up a creature that looked suspiciously like a centaur, selling steaks by the pound. We walked past a smithy hammering weapons out of human thigh bones, the sparks flying green and purple.
We navigated the throngs of Rakshasas and Yakshas. I kept my head down, my [Cold Veins] passive keeping my heart rate steady.
Suddenly, a hand—clawed, adorned with gold rings—shot out and grabbed the leash.
"Halt," a voice hissed.
It was a Yaksha merchant. He was dressed in fine, iridescent silks, his skin a pale blue, his eyes burning like coals. He ignored me and Javed completely, his gaze fixed solely on Vikram.
"How much?" the Yaksha asked, looking at Vikram with hungry, appraising eyes. "For the shiny one."
Vikram froze, his hands sinking into the muck of the market floor.
"He is not for sale," I said, stepping between them, my voice flat. "He is reserved for the Naga Princess."
"Everyone has a price," the Yaksha grinned, revealing sharp, gold-capped teeth. "I will give you two thousand gold. And a bottle of dreams."
"Ten thousand," I bluffed, naming a ridiculous price to make him back off. "He is a purebred Light-Walker. Very rare. High maintenance. He only eats organic."
The Yaksha narrowed his eyes. He leaned down, bringing his face inches from Vikram's.
"Ten thousand? For this skinny thing? Can he even work? Does he do tricks?"
I looked at Vikram. The Yaksha was suspicious. If we walked away now, he might call the guards. We had to sell the lie.
I kicked Vikram gently in the ribs.
"Show him," I commanded. "Sit."
Vikram looked up at me, betrayal written in every line of his handsome face. He mouthed 'I hate you', but he sat back on his heels.
"Good boy," the Yaksha cooed, reaching out to scratch Vikram behind the ear. Vikram shuddered, closing his eyes in pure, unadulterated humiliation.
"Spin," I ordered.
Vikram let out a low whimper, then spun in a clumsy circle on his knees.
"Bark," the Yaksha demanded.
"Bark," I repeated.
"Woof," Vikram whispered.
"Louder!" the Yaksha laughed. "Let me hear the spirit!"
"WOOF! WOOF!" Vikram barked, channeling all his rage and embarrassment into the sound. "I AM A GOOD BOY! WOOF!"
The Yaksha clapped his hands, delighted. "Wonderful! But ten thousand is too rich for my blood. Take him to the Princess. She likes the noisy ones."
He let go of the leash.
We walked away quickly. As soon as we were clear, Vikram stood up, dusting off his knees with trembling hands.
"I am buying this place," Vikram whispered, his voice shaking with fury. "When we level up, I am coming back, I am buying this entire tree, and I am turning it into a parking lot."
"Focus," I said. "We found her."
We reached the upper levels. The VIP section. The chaotic market gave way to an eerie calm. The stalls were replaced by silk tents. The smell of rot was masked by expensive perfume and lotus flowers.
And there, in the center of a private garden watered by a magical fountain that defied gravity, was a tent made of sheer, shimmering fabric.
"There," Kabir whispered, pointing his cane. "The heartbeats. One human. Three... cold ones."
I crept closer, expecting to see Riya in a cage. I expected chains. I expected blood. I gripped my spear, ready to see the worst.
Instead, I saw Riya getting a manicure.
I blinked. I rubbed my eyes, smearing more ash on my face. I blinked again.
Riya was sitting on a pile of plush velvet cushions, looking absolutely terrified. Her eyes were wide, darting around like a trapped bird. But she wasn't bleeding.
Surrounding her were three Naga Handmaidens—creatures with the lower bodies of serpents and the upper bodies of stunningly beautiful women with scaled skin.
One was braiding Riya's hair with pearls. One was feeding her peeled grapes. The third was holding Riya's hand, filing her nails with a crystal file.
"Please don't eat my hand," Riya squeaked, flinching as the file moved.
"Eat?" the Naga Handmaiden hissed, laughing softly. "Oh, no, precious. We are exfoliating. Your cuticles are a tragedy. We must fix them before the Princess sees."
"Can we keep her?" the second Naga asked, stroking Riya's hair with a forked tongue. "She is so warm. The last pet was cold and broke too easily."
In the center of the tent, lounging on a throne made of coral and gold, was Princess Ulupi (Level 25).
She was terrifyingly beautiful. Her scales were iridescent blue. She looked at Riya with possessive, unblinking adoration.
"She is... perfect," the Princess hissed. "My little healer. We will build her a nest of silk. We will feed her the finest mice."
"She's a pet," I whispered to the team, hiding in the shadow of a massive root. "They didn't kidnap her to eat her. They kidnapped her because she's a cute healer."
"Unbelievable," Vikram muttered from the floor, sounding genuinely offended. "I am crawling in the mud, eating dirt, barking at Yakshas, and she gets a spa day? Where is the justice? I have better hair than her!"
"Focus, jealous dog," I hissed. "They love her. That's the problem. If we try to take her, they won't just attack us; they'll scream like we're stealing their baby."
"We need a distraction," I said. "Vikram. The Sun-Stone."
I pointed to the massive glowing lantern above the tent.
"Shatter it."
Vikram didn't hesitate. He drew his crystal bow. His body snapped into [Divine Posture].
THWIP.
The arrow of light struck the lantern.
BOOM.
The Sun-Stone exploded. A million beams of stroboscopic light blinded the Nagas.
"MY EYES!" Princess Ulupi shrieked. "WHO DARES?!"
"GO!" I roared.
Javed charged. He activated [Weight of the Mountain]. He was unstoppable. He plowed through the blinded handmaidens like a bulldozer. He grabbed Riya—who looked shocked, then relieved—and spun around.
"Got her!" Javed yelled.
But Princess Ulupi wasn't just a Princess. She was a Raid Boss.
Even blinded, she sensed the movement.
"THIEF!" she screamed.
She lashed out with her tail. It was a massive, iridescent whip of muscle and scale.
It hit Javed's shield.
CLANG-BOOM.
It didn't sound like a hit. It sounded like a bomb going off.
Javed had Weight of the Mountain. He couldn't be knocked back. The System said so.
But Level 25 physics disagreed.
Javed didn't slide. He was launched.
He flew backward like a cricket ball off a bat. He smashed through a silk partition. He smashed through a wooden pillar. He was airborne, hurtling toward the stone wall of the cavern at lethal speed.
[ CRITICAL HIT TAKEN ]
[ HP: -60% ]
"I got you!" Riya screamed mid-air.
She didn't panic. She clamped her hands onto Javed's chestplate.
"Lifroot!"
Green light exploded from her hands. Before Javed hit the wall, a cushion of thick, rapid-growing moss erupted from his armor. It expanded instantly, turning into a giant, spongy airbag of vegetation.
WHUMP.
Javed hit the wall. The stone cracked, but the moss absorbed the kinetic energy.
He slid down, groaning, alive.
"Run!" I yelled.
We scrambled toward the exit, the entire bazaar erupting in chaos behind us.
We reached the root-bridge. Freedom was fifty meters away.
Then, a shadow dropped from the sky.
A figure in red bone-armor landed in front of us, cracking the bridge.
[ ENEMY: RAKSHASA GENERAL (Level 15) ]
"You," the General rumbled, pointing his blade at me. His voice was like thunder. He sniffed the air deeply. "You smell of Ilvala. You smell of his murder. You smell of... my brother."
He wasn't a merchant. He was family.
We were trapped on the bridge. The General in front (Level 15). The furious Naga Princess and her guards screaming behind (Level 25). A drop of two hundred feet to the forest floor on either side.
I looked at my team. We were tired. We were low on mana. I was down 20% HP.
"Plan B?" Vikram squeaked, nocking an arrow with trembling fingers.
"There is no Plan B," I said, stepping forward.
I looked at the bridge supports. They were made of thick, woven vines.
"Dhruv?" Javed asked, seeing my eyes. "What are you doing?"
"We can't win this fight," I said, my voice cold. "Don't fight to win."
I raised my spear, aiming not at the General, but at the floor.
"Fight to fall."
[ BOSS BATTLE INITIATED ]
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: CHAPTER COMPLETE ]
[ DEV LOG: ] Can we get an F in the chat for Vikram's dignity? 🐶 Writing the "Bark" scene was honestly the highlight of this arc. It cements the brutal reality of the Khandava-Prastha: Your ego will get you killed faster than any monster. Survival requires... creative solutions.
Lore Bit: For those curious, the Chandalas Kabir mentioned were historically the keepers of the cremation grounds. They lived outside the social order, dealing with death. By adopting this persona, the party has effectively marked themselves as "Untouchables" in the monster hierarchy. They are safe from being eaten, but they are now social pariahs.
The Cliffhanger: "Fight to Fall." Dhruv just made a call that goes against every gamer instinct. Usually, you fight to win. But when you're staring down a Level 15 General and a Level 25 Princess at Level 2... sometimes the only way out is down.
[ QUEST: BOOST THE ALGORITHM ] The System demands fuel! If you enjoyed the heist, the humiliation of Vikram, or the sheer terror of Princess Ulupi, please drop a POWER STONE!
Goal: Let's get this to the top of the rankings!
Reward: My eternal gratitude and faster updates!
Comment Question: Be honest: If a Yaksha offered you 10,000 Gold for your annoying friend, would you have taken the deal? Because I think Dhruv hesitated for a second there... 😂
See you in the next chapter! — The Architect