"Veer..!"
Revati was very upset because Veer had accepted Abhijeet's challenge without consulting her.
Without wasting any time, Abhijeet asked Veer,
"What kind of challenge?"
As long as Veer was willing to accept his challenge, Abhijeet was ready to accept any of his conditions. This was the best opportunity for him to avenge his younger brother, and there was no way he was going to let it go.
"My condition is very simple... exactly one month from today, I will fight you. If you don't accept this condition, or if you're scared, that's fine... you can leave. I'll just assume you never came here to challenge me in the first place," Veer said calmly, as if he was sure Abhijeet would accept his condition.
"Alright, I'll give you one month. I hope you'll fight me after a month, rather than trying to hide," Abhijeet said with a devilish grin.
When Aman and Abhijeet came out of Revati's house, Aman said to Abhijeet, "Abhijeet… Veer has asked for a month to prepare. What if he's really confident he can win? I don't think you should've accepted his condition."
Abhijeet replied confidently,
"Father, no matter how hard a firefly tries, it can never become the sun. He's only at the first level of the Physical Domain. By the end of the month, he won't even step into the second level. So what do I have to fear?"
"But..."
Aman tried to say something, but Abhijeet interrupted him.
"Father, are you worried because of the Fallen Punch? If that's the case, you shouldn't worry. Even if Veer manages to reach the second level, he still won't be able to face me. Do you think the gap between the second and fourth levels can be bridged just with the Fallen Punch?"
The gap between the third and fourth levels of the Physical Domain was significant—almost 40 kg of strength. It might seem small, but achieving that level of power was extremely difficult. If the gap between the third and fourth levels was that large, the gap between the second and fourth was even more vast. That's why Abhijeet wasn't afraid of Veer.
"Maybe I'm overthinking," Aman said, smiling slightly after hearing everything his son had to say. He nodded, proud of his elder son, who had never let him down.
After Aman and his son left, Veer looked into his mother Revati's eyes, where clear concern was visible.
"Mom, don't worry. I have full confidence in myself," Veer said with a gentle smile.
Revati replied with concern, "Veer, it's not that I don't trust you. But you also need to understand the situation. Abhijeet is not weak like his brother Ravi. He's the strongest among the fourth-level warriors of the Mishra family. You shouldn't have accepted his challenge."
"Mom, I understand everything you've said. Don't you trust me? I will definitely win! That's a promise," Veer said seriously.
"Veer... I don't care about anyone's challenge. I just worry about you. I don't want to see you hurt like before," Revati said, her eyes brimming with tears.
The recent incident had left a mark on her heart. She couldn't bear to see Veer in pain again.
"Mom, I promise I will never make you worry again," Veer reassured her.
Revati composed herself and said, "Alright, I trust you. If you need anything during this month, don't hesitate to ask me."
"Mom, I need to buy the same medicinal materials you got for me last time. And also, I'll need some money," Veer said.
After receiving money from his mother, Revati, Veer headed toward the market. This was the first time he was leaving the house since coming into this world.
The market in Sanchi town was divided into three sections, controlled by the Mishra family and two other families. Veer first went to the section controlled by the Mishra family. On both sides of the street were shops selling sweets, clothes, weapons, and medicines. But the time period was very different from the 21st century. For a moment, Veer felt as if he had traveled far back in time.
It was a scene he had only seen on television in his past life.
After roaming around the Mishra family's market for a while, Veer headed toward the second market controlled by the Gupta family—one of the three most powerful families in Sanchi, along with the Mishra and Ahuja families.
These three families had been secretly fighting for control over Sanchi for a long time. All of them had ample power, but no one wanted to be the first to strike and take the blame for disrupting Sanchi's peace.
As Veer entered a weapons shop controlled by the Gupta family, a man immediately came to greet him.
"Dear customer, may I ask what kind of weapon you're looking for?" he asked with a slight smile.
Veer shook his head and said, "I'm not here to buy weapons, just some materials."
The man was surprised by his response.
A weapon forger is not just a blacksmith working in a weapon shop. Just like the divine weapon maker Vishwakarma, who wasn't merely a blacksmith, weapon forgers in the Somali continent were as rare as healers. Great warriors would do anything to make a forger part of their family—even appointing them as an elder.
Weapons made by blacksmiths were considered ordinary, but those forged by weapon forgers were believed to carry the spirit of the warrior who used them, greatly amplifying their power. That's why such weapons were considered extraordinary.
All three families in Sanchi had a ninth-level healer, but none had a single weapon forger. This showed just how rare forgers were.
"Dear customer, may I ask which materials you need?" the man now spoke more respectfully, assuming Veer was a weapon forger. Veer didn't correct him—he wasn't buying the materials for weapons.
Laksh was a royal-grade weapon forger. Since Veer now possessed all of Laksh's memories, forging weapons was easier for him than anything else. But first, he needed to enter the Chakramadhya Mandal and generate inner energy. Without it, he couldn't create the fire required for forging. The same applied to healers making medicines.
Veer named all nine materials in one breath.
These materials were for crafting mantra inscriptions—a rare technique on the Somali continent. Mantras were written on weapons or objects using a special process, enhancing their power manifold. They were mostly used for explosive effects but had limitations: each inscription could be used only once, and after that, it would be destroyed and need to be recreated.
Veer had learned from Laksh's memories that mantra inscriptions were most used during Laksh's second lifetime. That's why he had also studied mantras alongside weapon crafting in that life.
It had been 10,000 years since then, and this technique had faded with time. Warriors who used mantras were called Mantrakaars. As the technique disappeared, Mantrakaars became more valuable than even forgers or healers. They were so rare that just seeing one was considered a blessing.
The materials Veer bought could be used to make a basic-level mantra inscription.
"Dear customer, the total cost for these materials is seven silver coins."
Without delay, Veer handed over the seven silver coins his mother had given him.
After respectfully watching Veer leave, the man immediately left his shop and hurried toward the Gupta family palace.
He wanted to inform the family head about the forger who had visited—before the Mishra or Ahuja families could recruit him.
"I'll have to arrange more money. Mom gave me twenty silver coins, and I've already used almost half," Veer muttered with disappointment as he made his way toward the Mishra family's palace.
On the way back from the market, Veer noticed a group of people gathered on the roadside. Out of curiosity, he walked toward the crowd.
As he reached, his attention was drawn to a girl kneeling in front of everyone. Her long, thick black hair covered her face. She looked to be about Veer's age. In front of her was a sign in bold letters:
"If anyone pays for my mother's funeral, I will serve them as a lifelong maid!"
Veer never imagined he'd witness a scene like this—something he had only seen on TV before.
Since inheriting Laksh's memories, Veer's perception had evolved greatly. Just by looking at the girl, he could sense her aura and energy.
"Hey girl, why don't you show me your face first? If you're actually pretty, I might accept you as my maid," a fat man said with a lustful tone.
"Yeah, if you don't show your face, no one will buy you…" another man chimed in.
"I will only raise my head if one of you pays for my mother's funeral," the girl said, still hiding her face. Her voice was melodious yet filled with determination.
"Your voice..."
"Your voice... is really sweet! But even a sweet voice won't help you if your face is ugly!" the same fat man laughed nastily, causing the crowd to chuckle along with him.
Another man stepped forward, mockingly waving a silver coin. "If you really want to bury your mother, then show us what you've got. Who knows, maybe we'll all chip in—if we're entertained enough."
Despite the mocking laughter around her, the girl remained unmoved. Her head stayed bowed, her thick black hair hiding her face. Her hands trembled slightly as she clenched the paper with her plea.
Veer couldn't stand it anymore. The disgust rising within him threatened to boil over. In his previous life, he had seen the world's cruelty from afar—on television, in books. But now, living in this era, he could feel it in his bones.
He stepped forward through the crowd, drawing everyone's attention.
"Enough," Veer said in a low but firm voice.
The crowd turned toward him, confused. The fat man narrowed his eyes. "Who are you, kid?"
"Someone who knows the value of dignity," Veer replied calmly. "You should all be ashamed. Mocking someone when they're at their lowest? Is this what humanity has become?"
The mocking smiles disappeared, replaced by awkward shuffles and a few guilty glances. But the fat man scoffed, "If you're so righteous, why don't you give her the money?"
Veer walked straight to the girl and knelt beside her. He gently placed ten silver coins on the paper in front of her.
The crowd gasped.
The girl froze. Slowly, as if afraid to believe it, she raised her head.
Her face was smudged with dirt and tears, but her features were undeniably beautiful—delicate, expressive, and filled with quiet pain. Her deep eyes held the sorrow of someone far beyond her years.
"I... I will never forget this," she whispered.
Veer looked her in the eyes. "You don't need to become anyone's servant. Especially not mine. Use this money to honor your mother properly. She deserves that."
The girl stared at him in disbelief. "But the sign—"
Veer interrupted her softly. "The world may try to put a price on dignity. That doesn't mean you should sell it."
He stood up and turned to leave, the stunned crowd silently parting to let him through.
But before he could walk away, the girl stood and called out, "Wait! Please... tell me your name."
He stopped for a moment, then said without turning, "Veer."
With that, he disappeared into the crowd.
The girl clutched the coins to her chest, tears falling freely now—not from grief, but from gratitude. For the first time since her mother's death, she felt a spark of hope.