The regional monsoon hadn't just arrived; it had declared war. Rain hammered the corrugated tin roofs of Mehta Nagar Settlement, on the outskirts of Bhiwani, turning the labyrinthine alleys into muddy rivers. For Ravi, a lean 19-year-old with eyes that had seen too much and missed nothing, it was just another Tuesday. His calloused fingers, stained with the grime of a thousand discarded lives, expertly sifted through a mountain of refuse behind a fancy restaurant near the old bus stand. His worn-out sandals squelched, each step a testament to his precarious existence.
"Hey there, Ravi? Anything good today, or just more political promises?" a voice rasped. It was Suresh, the aging tea-seller, his stall a small beacon of warmth in the deluge.
Ravi flashed a rare, lopsided grin, holding up a slightly dented, high-end perfume bottle, nearly empty. "Smells like a rich lady's guilt, old man Suresh. Might fetch a few coins for the bottle itself." He tossed it into his sturdy sack, already bulging with plastic, metal scraps, and the occasional 'treasure'.
His life was a cycle of scavenging, bartering, and surviving. He was a ghost in the bustling town, invisible to the larger buildings that hinted at progress, yet an integral part of its underbelly. But Ravi wasn't just any trash picker. He possessed an uncanny spatial awareness, reflexes honed by dodging speeding rickshaws and territorial street dogs, and an almost preternatural ability to find value where others saw only waste. He was a survivor, sharp as a shard of broken glass.
A sudden commotion erupted further down the alley. Shouts, a woman's scream. Ravi's head snapped up, his body tensing. Instinct, sharper than any blade, took over. He dropped his sack, the perfume bottle clinking softly.
"Oi, Sameer! Leave her be, you scoundrel!" Ravi's voice, usually quiet, cut through the rain with surprising authority.
Sameer, a local goon known for preying on the weak, had cornered a young flower-seller, Priya, her basket of jasmine and marigolds overturned and trampled. He was yanking at her scarf.
Sameer, twice Ravi's size, sneered. "Look who it is, Ravi the Scavenger! Found some courage in the gutter today? Or just want a piece of the action?" His cronies snickered.
Ravi's eyes narrowed. He hated bullies. He'd been on the receiving end enough times. "The only action you'll be getting is a trip to the local hospital if you don't let her go. Now." His stance was relaxed, but his gaze was granite.
Sameer, emboldened by his lackeys, lunged. "I'll teach you your place, you piece of filth!"
What happened next was a blur, even to Ravi. He sidestepped Sameer's clumsy punch with an almost unnatural fluidity, his foot shooting out to trip one crony while his elbow connected sharply with another's jaw. Sameer, surprised by the sudden resistance, roared and charged again. Ravi didn't meet force with force. He used Sameer's momentum, deflecting a wild swing and sending the bully sprawling into a pile of wet cardboard.
"What happened, Sameer buddy?" Ravi said, his voice laced with icy calm. "Lost your balance? Or just your brain cells?"
Before Sameer could retaliate, the blare of a horn, deafeningly close, split the air. A massive, overloaded truck, its brakes failing in the slick conditions, careened around the narrow corner. Time seemed to stretch. Priya screamed. Old man Suresh yelled a warning.
Ravi saw it coming. He shoved Priya towards the relative safety of Suresh's stall with all his might. There was no time for himself. Just a blinding flash of headlights, the screech of tortured metal, and then… an impact that felt like the universe imploding.
Darkness.
Cold.
Silence.
Then, a voice. Not in his ears, but inside his head. Ancient, resonant, and utterly indifferent.
«SYSTEM BOOTING… WELCOME, SOUL IDENTIFIER #7,864,592,011 – DESIGNATION: RAVI.»
Ravi's consciousness flickered. What… the hell? System? Am I in some cheap video game? Did that truck hit me so hard I'm hallucinating my way to the God of Death?
«PREVIOUS EXISTENCE TERMINATED. REASON: UNFORTUNATE TRUCK-RELATED MISADVENTURE. COMMENCING SOUL TRANSFERENCE PROTOCOL: ISKAI.»
Iskai? Like those Japanese cartoons? Oh man, this is too much!
«NEW VESSEL SELECTED. SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS… WARNING: SIGNIFICANT MANA DIFFERENCE DETECTED. FORCIBLE ADAPTATION INITIATED.»
A searing pain, far worse than the truck, ripped through his very essence. It felt like his soul was being stretched, twisted, and reforged in a cosmic fire. He wanted to scream, but he had no mouth, no lungs.
«SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE: 5%. PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION IMMINENT. ASSIGNING STARTER PACK: UNIQUE SKILL – [EYES OF THE SCRAP GOD]. UNIQUE SKILL – [ADAPTIVE METABOLISM]. UNIQUE SKILL – [THREADS OF FATE (DORMANT)].»
Scrap God? Seriously? They couldn't even give me a cool title? And what the hell is Mana?
«GOOD LUCK, RAVI. TRY NOT TO DIE SO QUICKLY THIS TIME. IT'S A LOT OF PAPERWORK.»
The voice faded, replaced by a torrent of sensations. The smell of pine and damp earth. The chirping of unfamiliar birds. A gentle breeze on his skin. Skin that felt… different. Stronger.
Ravi gasped, his eyes snapping open. He was lying on a bed of soft moss, sunlight dappling through a dense canopy of colossal, alien-looking trees. The air was crisp, pure, carrying the scent of unknown blossoms. He sat up, his body moving with an ease and power he'd never known. He looked at his hands – still calloused, but cleaner, broader, fingers longer. He felt… taller. Stronger.
"Okay, Ravi," he muttered, patting himself down. He was wearing simple, tunic-like clothes made of a rough, unfamiliar fabric. "Definitely not Bhiwani."
A low growl, guttural and menacing, shattered the tranquility.
Ravi shot to his feet, every nerve ending screaming danger. His trash-picker instincts, now seemingly amplified, kicked in. He scanned his surroundings, his [Eyes of the Scrap God] – whatever they were – automatically highlighting points of interest, potential threats, escape routes. It was like a heads-up display only he could see.
From behind a thicket of blood-red ferns, a creature emerged. It was easily eight feet tall, built like a nightmarish cross between a bear and a boar, with matted, dark fur, tusks like scimitars, and eyes that glowed with malevolent crimson light. Drool dripped from its snarling maw.
"You have got to be kidding me," Ravi breathed, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "First a truck, now… this ugly brute?"
The beast, which his new instincts helpfully labelled a 'Krodha-Varaha' (Wrath-Boar), let out a deafening roar and charged. The ground trembled beneath its thunderous advance.
Ravi didn't have time to think, only react. He dived to the side, the Krodha-Varaha's tusks tearing through the air where he'd been moments before. He rolled, coming up on one knee, his eyes darting around for a weapon. A fallen branch, thick as his arm, lay nearby. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
As he scrambled for it, he noticed something glinting behind a curtain of vines – a figure, small and terrified, cowering. A girl, no older than sixteen, with wide, frightened eyes the colour of amethysts and silver hair that cascamed down her back. She was dressed in elegant, albeit torn, silks – clearly out of place in this wilderness.
The Krodha-Varaha, frustrated, turned its attention to the easier prey. It snorted, pawing the ground, before lumbering towards the girl.
"Oh no, you don't, son of a pig!" Ravi yelled, grabbing the branch. He felt a strange surge of energy course through him, a warmth spreading from his core to his limbs. His [Adaptive Metabolism] seemed to be kicking in, supercharging his movements.
He charged the beast from the side, swinging the heavy branch like a cricket bat from his street cricket days. The impact, when it connected with the Krodha-Varaha's flank, was like hitting solid rock, but it staggered the creature. A surprised yelp escaped its throat.
The beast whirled, its red eyes fixing on Ravi with pure, murderous intent. It was faster than it looked. It lunged, jaws snapping.
Ravi sidestepped, the movement almost too quick for his own comprehension. He felt… different. Lighter. More powerful. He slammed the branch down on the beast's snout. A sickening crunch. The Krodha-Varaha howled in pain, shaking its massive head.
"Not so tough now, are you, fatty?" Ravi taunted, adrenaline singing through his veins. He felt strangely alive, a thrill coursing through him that even his dangerous life in Bhiwani hadn't provided. This was raw, primal.
The girl, seeing a sliver of hope, whimpered, "Heavens… please, help me!"
Ravi glanced at her. Heavens? Who's that? No time. The Krodha-Varaha was recovering, its eyes burning with renewed fury. It lowered its head, preparing for a devastating charge.
"Looks like I'm fresh out of divine help," Ravi grunted, gripping the branch tighter. "You'll have to settle for a trash picker from Bhiwani!"
As the beast charged, Ravi did something utterly insane. He ran towards it. At the last possible second, using the Krodha-Varaha's own momentum, he vaulted onto its broad, bristly back, clinging on for dear life as it bucked and thrashed.
"Yeehaw, piggy!" he yelled, half-terrified, half-exhilarated. He brought the branch down repeatedly on the beast's thick skull, each blow resonating with a dull thud. It wasn't doing much damage.
Need something sharper! His [Eyes of the Scrap God] flared, highlighting a weak spot just behind the creature's ear – a patch where the fur was thinner, the bone seemingly less protected. He also noticed one of its own tusks, chipped during an earlier fight, was slightly loose.
The Krodha-Varaha thrashed violently, trying to dislodge him. Ravi held on, his knuckles white. He saw his chance. Reaching down with a surge of desperate strength, he gripped the chipped tusk. With a grunt that tore from his throat, he pulled.
There was a sickening crack, a shriek of agony from the beast, and the tusk came loose in his hand – a jagged, ivory dagger.
The Krodha-Varaha reared, throwing Ravi off. He landed hard, the air knocked from his lungs, but he held onto the tusk. The beast, now truly enraged and bleeding from its jaw, charged him again, its eyes promising a gruesome death.
Ravi scrambled to his feet, the tusk held ready. "Come on then, you overgrown pork chop! Let's finish this dance!"
He didn't try to dodge this time. As the beast bore down on him, he focused, that strange energy coiling within him. He could almost see the lines of force, the trajectory of the attack. He sidestepped at an angle that seemed impossible, the beast's charge carrying it slightly past him. In that split second, Ravi lunged, plunging the jagged tusk deep into the weak spot behind its ear he'd identified.
The Krodha-Varaha let out a sound that was half-roar, half-death rattle. It stumbled, its massive body crashing to the forest floor with a ground-shaking thud, lifeblood pooling around its head.
Silence descended, broken only by Ravi's ragged breathing and the girl's quiet sobs.
Ravi stood over the dead beast, covered in its blood and his own sweat, the makeshift tusk-dagger still clutched in his hand. A wave of exhaustion hit him, but also a dawning realization. He had just killed a monster. A real, freaking monster. With a tree branch and its own tusk.
He looked at his hands, then at the colossal creature. A slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. "Well, Sameer buddy," he panted, "you wouldn't last five seconds here."
He turned to the girl, who was staring at him with a mixture of terror, disbelief, and dawning awe. Her silver hair was dishevelled, her fine clothes ripped, but her amethyst eyes were fixed on him.
"You… you saved me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "From the Krodha-Varaha… Who… what are you?"
Ravi ran a bloody hand through his equally bloody hair. He was still processing the last ten minutes – from a Bhiwani alley to a monster-infested forest. He was supposed to be dead. Instead, he felt more alive than ever.
He offered her a surprisingly steady hand. "Name's Ravi. And as for what I am…" He paused, considering. A trash picker? A reincarnate? A monster slayer?
He met her gaze, a spark of his old street-smart defiance, now mixed with something new, something powerful, glinting in his eyes.
"Just a guy who hates seeing good things go to waste. And you, miss, are definitely not waste." He flashed another one of his rare, lopsided grins, this one holding a predatory edge. "Now, care to tell me where in all creation I've landed? And what other oversized pests I need to worry about?"
The forest seemed to hold its breath, the silence pregnant with unspoken possibilities. Ravi had traded one jungle for another, but this one had magic, monsters, and a destiny he was only beginning to grasp. The trash picker from Mehta Nagar Settlement was dead. Long live Ravi, the… well, he'd figure that part out later. For now, survival, and maybe a little bit of badassery, was top of the agenda. And somewhere, in the cosmic bureaucracy, a clerk was probably sighing, already starting the paperwork for whatever chaos Ravi was about to unleash.