บท 2: Chapter 2: The Noob Reward
The steady rhythm of his footsteps echoed in the stillness of the forest. Dry twigs snapped under his weight, the sound jarring in the otherwise quiet expanse of nature. He had been walking for what felt like hours, his legs growing heavier with each step, but the looming red dot on his map—Bahadurgad Fort—seemed no closer.
"Ugh, I'm going to die before I even get there," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His jeans, designed for urban life, were now caked with dirt, and his shoes felt like they were filled with lead. Every inch of him ached from fatigue, and his stomach rumbled in protest from the lack of food.
Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't stop. Sambhaji Raje was somewhere out there, likely bound in chains, heading toward his execution. The thought spurred him forward, even as his legs screamed in protest.
But as he trudged along the narrow path, doubts gnawed at the edges of his mind. Could he really pull this off? Could a modern man with no combat experience—who hadn't even been in a fistfight—really save a legendary warrior king?
"I can't even walk properly, and I'm supposed to fight off Mughal soldiers?" He laughed bitterly, kicking at a small rock that lay in his path. The rock skidded across the dirt before disappearing into the underbrush.
His pace slowed as the doubts piled up. Saving Sambhaji sounded impossible—suicidal, even. He had no allies, no weapons, and the only tools at his disposal were whatever this system provided him. But could a map and a promise of future rewards really save him from the sheer might of the Mughal Empire?
He didn't even know how to use the system properly. It was like being given the keys to a car without ever learning how to drive.
"System," he called out, his voice tentative, "give me more information. What's this 'World Map' you unlocked?"
There was a brief pause, and then the emotionless voice responded:
"World Map activated. Current abilities include tracking people and resources within a 50-kilometer radius. Map updates in real-time. Additional features will unlock as you progress."
He focused on the translucent map overlay that appeared in his vision. The layout was basic, almost like something out of an old-school video game, but the level of detail was remarkable. He could see small icons for water sources, trees, and even animals scattered across the terrain. But most importantly, the map tracked people—soldiers patrolling the area, villagers moving between towns, and, of course, Sambhaji Raje, marked with a glowing crown symbol.
It was incredible. But as cool as the map was, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was still hopelessly unprepared.
"Okay, cool… but I need more than a map. I need… I don't know, something to defend myself with. Tools. Weapons. Something."
His words trailed off as he realized he didn't even know how to fight, let alone handle a sword or spear. The weight of his situation pressed down on him. He wasn't a soldier; he was a gamer. A nerd with an interest in history and strategy, not someone who belonged on the frontlines of battle.
The voice of the system broke through his thoughts again.
"Basic technology level activated. Resources within proximity can be used to craft rudimentary tools. Begin scanning surroundings for suitable materials."
For a moment, he didn't react. Then the meaning of the message hit him.
"Oh," he muttered. "I'm supposed to… make stuff?"
He glanced around, suddenly aware of the forest floor beneath him. Rocks, branches, vines—nothing that looked particularly useful, but maybe the system knew better.
With a sigh, he focused on his surroundings, hoping the system would guide him. Immediately, several objects began glowing faintly on the map—items he had previously overlooked. Rocks, wooden branches, and something labeled fiber vines.
"Fiber vines?" he whispered, crouching down to inspect a tangle of vines wrapped around the base of a nearby tree. As he touched them, the system chimed in.
"Fiber vines detected. Suitable for crafting basic rope or bindings. Gather materials."
He grabbed a handful of the vines, tugging at them until they came loose. "Rope, huh? Well, it's better than nothing."
For the next hour, he gathered anything the system highlighted: sharp rocks for cutting, sturdy branches for potential weapons, and more vines for rope. It felt like he was scavenging in a survival game, and part of him couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
"This feels like some kind of caveman tech," he muttered, tying together two branches to form a crude spear. The craftsmanship was terrible, but at least it was something. "I'm not exactly forging iron weapons here."
Despite his self-deprecating humor, there was a strange satisfaction in the act. Gathering materials and crafting felt productive, like he was finally doing something to prepare for the mission ahead. It reminded him of the early stages of the strategy games he loved—those moments where you started with nothing and slowly built your empire from the ground up.
But this wasn't a game. There were no second chances here.
Still, he couldn't shake his fear. Every time he thought about the Mughal soldiers—their swords, their armor, their sheer numbers—his stomach twisted in knots. One wrong move, one mistake, and he'd be dead. And what did he have? A flimsy spear made of sticks and vines.
"Yeah, this is going to go great," he muttered sarcastically, tossing the spear over his shoulder as he continued walking.
The map showed Bahadurgad getting closer, and he felt a sense of urgency creeping in. The fort was still several kilometers away, but he needed to be ready by the time he got there. The real challenge would come when he had to figure out how to actually get inside without getting caught or killed.
That's when the doubts came flooding back, stronger than before. He wasn't just afraid of getting hurt—he was afraid of dying. The thought of facing soldiers with real weapons, of being cut down in a moment of panic, filled him with dread. His entire body tensed at the thought.
"What am I even doing here?" he muttered under his breath. "This isn't my fight."
But even as the words left his mouth, he felt a twinge of guilt. He knew who Sambhaji Maharaj was. He knew what the man stood for. And more than that, he knew how much the Marathas had suffered after Sambhaji's death. If he had the chance to save the Raje and change history, didn't he have some responsibility to try?
His thoughts were interrupted by a faint rustling in the trees. He froze, his hand instinctively tightening around the makeshift spear. The sound came again, closer this time. He could hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and moving toward him.
His heart leaped into his throat. Panic surged through him as he realized he wasn't alone. Whoever—or whatever—was out there wasn't just passing by. They were coming straight toward him.
He swallowed hard, his pulse racing. Slowly, he crouched down behind a tree, trying to steady his breathing. His mind raced, a million scenarios flashing through his head. Was it a wild animal? A soldier? Bandits? He had no idea.
The footsteps grew louder. Whoever it was, they were close—too close.
He gripped his spear tighter, his palms slick with sweat. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he forced himself to stay put, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be noticed.
As the figure emerged from the trees, his eyes widened in shock.
A man in Mughal armor, sword at his side, was walking through the forest, scanning the area with a wary gaze.
The soldier was alone. For now.
His breath hitched. What should I do? He hadn't prepared for this. The soldier hadn't seen him yet, but if he made even the slightest noise, it would be over. One-on-one, he had no chance with his pathetic wooden spear.
But the system's map flickered, and his heart skipped a beat as a new icon appeared next to the Mughal soldier.
"Potential resource: dagger."
The soldier's sword and small dagger at his waist were now highlighted in red.
For the first time, he realized that this was his moment to prove himself. He had two options: hide and wait for the soldier to pass, or make a move and steal the dagger while he still had the element of surprise.
He swallowed his fear. This is it. Do or die.
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