Rahul stepped out from the dim-lit tavern of Pyaasa and approached the task board with measured calm. His fingers brushed over the curling edges of parchments nailed onto the splintered wood—some weathered by time, others freshly inked. One specific notice caught his attention: the bounty confirmation for the saltwater crocodiles he had taken down. Without delay, he plucked the sheet and, after gathering directions from locals, made his way to the residence of the task initiator.
The mansion he arrived at was anything but humble.
Grand and glimmering with opulence, the estate belonged to a merchant specializing in exotic animal skins and taxidermied creatures sold to the elite as décor. Rahul noted the architecture—arched doorways, latticed windows, and heavily armed guards. Clearly, this was a man who understood both profit and peril.
The trader himself was rotund, adorned with heavy jewelry that jingled softly with each gesture. A man who spoke little but calculated much. Rahul respected that.
"I've completed the task," Rahul said. "The saltwater crocodiles. I'm here to collect the reward."
The merchant glanced up from his parchment, eyeing Rahul with faint amusement. "Proof?"
Without a word, Rahul accessed his system and pulled the two massive carcasses from storage. As the reptilian bodies thudded to the polished marble floor, gasps filled the room. Even the guards stiffened, lips parting in disbelief. No one was prepared to witness such a spectacle—especially not two pristine, intact crocs, their scaly hides unmarred by even a scratch.
"Spatial magic?" the merchant asked, lifting a brow.
"Let's say… something close," Rahul replied with a subtle smile.
The merchant clapped his hands in satisfaction. "Impeccable quality. Not a single blemish! You've exceeded expectations. However—"
Rahul raised a finger. "The meat is laced with a neurotoxin. I used poison to preserve the bodies during the kill. Consumption is dangerous."
Rather than deter him, the news made the merchant grin wider. "I don't need the meat. It's the skin that holds the value. You'll be rewarded an additional 5,000 gold coins—for this level of excellence."
Rahul nodded.
"Instead of gold, can you pay in amethyst coins?" he asked.
The merchant paused. "Hmm… smart boy. Much easier to carry and exchange. Fine. Amethyst it is."
Before the guards could fetch the coins, Rahul raised another hand. "I have more… inventory to offload. Interested?"
The man's eyes gleamed like a predator spotting prey. "Show me."
What followed was a parade of beasts. Rahul systematically removed the carcasses—wolves, dire wolves, bears, hyenas, a leopard. One after another, the room transformed into a miniature zoo of death.
The merchant could only breathe one word: "Bravo."
The deal was struck quickly. Prices agreed upon:
• Wild dogs: 100 gold each
• Hyenas: 250 gold each
• Wolves: 325 gold each
• Dire wolves: 455 gold each
• Wild bears: 775 gold each
• Leopard: 5000 gold
In total, the sum came to 15,405 gold coins. Rahul opted again for amethyst currency, collecting 50 amethyst coins in return. He walked out richer than some regional lords.
The following day, Rehmat informed Rahul that the local amethyst dealer had arrived for their meeting. After the usual exchange, Rahul now held nearly 61,000 gold coins worth of amethyst in his pouch.
Out of curiosity, he turned to Rehmat and asked, "What's the estimated net worth of the local landlord?"
Rehmat blinked at the bizarre question. "Difficult to say with certainty, but based on rumor and calculation… around 750,000 gold coins, including land and assets."
Rahul whistled. "That's the target then."
The tavernkeeper chuckled. "You dream big, my friend."
"But why not?" Rahul replied with a sly grin. "I've tasted fortune. Now I crave fame."
The next morning, Rahul stood before the Battle Arena—a coliseum-like structure divided into three tiers. Each tier catered to a different economic class, with the lowest housing the poor and gamblers, and the highest reserved for the rich and powerful. The arena grounds were vast, built like an oval stadium with two entrances for fighters and tiers of seating that climbed upward.
Rahul entered the official betting office. Inside, a wrinkled man with tobacco-stained fingers puffed leisurely on a hookah. He was the arena owner—and the bookie.
"I want to place a bet," Rahul said confidently.
The old man squinted at him. "Sit."
As they spoke, Rahul asked question after question—rules, structure, betting odds. Surprisingly, the old man answered each with patience, perhaps sensing something interesting in this new visitor.
What Rahul learned:
1. Fighters used various weapons—swords, muskets, daggers, even bare fists.
2. Each tier had escalating difficulty. Tier 1 (T1) had ten rounds.
3. To enter, fighters deposited increasing amounts per round: 100 gold for Round 1, 200 for Round 2, and so on.
4. The winner claimed the loser's deposit.
5. Warriors could legally bet on themselves.
6. Fighters had to sign a "death contract" waiving future claims.
"And the betting ratio?" Rahul asked.
"1:10," the owner replied. "Winners get ten times their bet. Losers, nothing."
Rahul leaned forward.
"I have a deal for you."
The room stilled.
"Today, I'll fight. Announce all ten rounds upfront. Let people bet on all participants—but not me. Since I'm unknown, they'll bet against me. But I'll win. Every match. You keep the losing bets. In return, I get 40% of the profits."
The room burst into laughter.
"You? Win all ten? Hah!"
But Rahul's face didn't twitch. "If I lose, you lose nothing. Just reset the rules. Blame technicality. Everyone moves on. But if I win…"
The old man rubbed his stubble, staring at the youth with narrowed eyes.
"You're serious?"
"Dead serious."
"And you're willing to die for this?"
"If I fail, I die. If I win, we both make history."
After a long pause, the owner smiled. "Very well. You've got yourself a deal, kid."
As Rahul signed the contract, a new announcement rolled across the arena.
Special Betting Rule: All ten matches. All candidates. One-time bets only.
In mere hours, the pot swelled to 1 million gold coins.
The bait was set.
And Rahul had already placed his bet.
-----------------------------------