The problem with cross-examining a hostile witness while driving down Anna Salai at 60 kilometers per hour wasn't the legal risk - it was the traffic.

  “Mr. Prakash,” Milind began, fingers flicking over his tablet while his other hand swirled the steering wheel, “you say you were unaware of the financial transfers to the shell company. Yet, oddly, the signature on Form 16 matches yours exactly. Curious coincidence, isn’t it?”

  His car's AI gave a polite bing. Collision alert. 23 meters. Recommended deceleration.

  Milind waved it off.

  "That document was forged," the witness snapped over the courtroom feed. The virtual court video lagged slightly - bad WiFi on their end.

  Milind sipped from a steel cup of filter coffee balanced between his legs. “Of course it was. And Santa Claus filed your GST returns, I presume.”

  A few chuckles in the courtroom. Judge D’Souza raised a polite, judicial eyebrow.

  Outside the windshield, a yellow auto rikshaw merged left without signaling.

  Milind swerved. He didn’t look up.

  He was in the zone.

  "Objection!" shouted opposing counsel. "Counsel is testifying."

  "Objection overruled," D’Souza said mildly. "Proceed, Mr. Kumar."

  Milind smiled. A slick, dangerous sort of grin.

  He was Milind Kumar, criminal defense attorney, Supreme Court empaneled, Chennai-hardened, and proud possessor of five contempt warnings, three reprimands, and zero convictions for clients who paid in cash. He loved the law.

  Not justice. Law. The structured, manipulable beauty of it.

  “Tell me again, Mr. Varadarajan,” Milind said, leaning forward. “If the signature was forged—why did the funds end up in your niece’s bridal jewellery account?”

  The witness opened his mouth.

  Milind never heard the answer.

  There was a sound - distant, soft, like temple bells underwater - and then something cracked.

  Not glass. Reality.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  It began with a blink. One moment, Milind was dodging a cyclist, the last thing he saw was a real, honest-to-God blue mini-truck with a sticker that read “Raja Rani Delux”, barreling down Mount Road like it had divine immunity from traffic laws.

  The air was still.

  No noise.

  No motion.

  Just the smell of hot asphalt and the faint buzz of broken electricity.

  His car wasn't there.

  Neither was the street.

  Void. Glorious, bureaucratic void.

  Milind opened his eyes - or thought he did. There were no walls. No floor. Just a corporate-scented whiteness that smelled faintly of air conditioning, printer ink, and existential dread.

  He was standing - possibly. Or floating. Or litigiously suspended.

  Then came the clerk.

  Or God.

  Or cosmic IT support, wearing a glowing robe stitched with contract clauses and footnotes.

  “Milind Kumar,” the figure said, its voice a cross between Sanskrit chanting and a Teams notification tone. “Your service to the material realm is concluded. You are hereby selected for Systemic Reallocation.”

  “Systemic what now?”

  “You have been granted rebirth under the divine framework of Order, Balance, and Growth - The Pact Engine.”

  Milind squinted. “You’re sending me to another world.”

  “Yes.”

  “With magic. Monsters. Quests. Possibly slimes?”

  “Yes.”

  He rubbed his temples. “And let me guess - some kind of destiny to fulfill?”

  “Your role shall be... undefined. Adaptive. Possibly destabilizing.”

  He blinked. “So, you want me to cause problems.”

  “We selected you for your unique skill set.”

  “I’m an Advocate. I only know how to cross examine scum and negotiate M&A deals. I once sued a Shoelace company over labeling.”

  “Precisely. You read fine print. You exploit ambiguity. You argue with gods and win on procedural grounds.”

  The robe fluttered as if impressed with itself.

  “I didn’t win. They settled.”

  “The outcome is irrelevant. Your nature is catalytic.”

  Milind narrowed his eyes. “And the others who get sent to this world? They get swords, magic, some flashy hero title... what do I get? A very sharp pen?”

  “You will be granted a system interface tailored to your talents. You are to be bound - though loosely - to the Pact Engine.”

  “Ah yes, because nothing says ‘epic fantasy’ like contractual obligations.”

  Milind sighed. “At least tell me I get a system window. Stats. Some kind of cheat?”

  “Of course.”

  With a faint ding, a translucent screen flickered into existence before him.

  [SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]

  > Welcome, Milind Kumar

  > Class: [Unbound Pact Initiate]

  > Level: 1 (XP – 0/100)

  > Title Unlocked: “Clause Breaker”

  > Origin: Chennai (Posthumous)

  [Stat Screen: Milind Kumar]

  Attributes

  Attribute        Value Notes

  Mind    31  (Intellect and Reasoning)

  Presence  18  (Charisma and Posture)

  Resolve   22  (Determination to Survive)

  Skills

  Skill Unlocked: [Exploit: Loophole Invocation]

  Temporarily triggers a contradiction in a nearby Pact to cause feedback or chaos. Cooldown: 24 hours.

  Known Traits

  Trait             Description

  Legal Mindset (I)     Mild resistance to mental coercion; can parse intent and semantics faster than average.

  World Clash (Passive)  The system is trying to reconcile the user's knowledge base with its own logic. Effects unknown.

  Bullshitter’s Confidence Grants +2 Presence when bluffing with confidence. (Stack limit: 1/day)

  Notes from the System:

  "This entity has entered the world via nonstandard transference. Monitoring enabled.

  Milind exhaled. “Alright, divine HR. Let’s do this. Send me to Fantasyland.”

  The being snapped its fingers. A portal opened, pulsing with arcane bureaucracy and unpaid overtime.

  “Wait!” Milind shouted. “What about my benefits package?!”

  But by then, he was falling - headfirst - into a world where people feared goblins, worshipped dragons, and signed binding oaths with their very souls.

  Welcome to Eirensfeld.

  Your Trial Period begins now.

  Termination Clause: Irreversible.