## Chapter 2: Beginning of the Mission
Karan Shergill stepped into the sharp, pine-scented air, boots crunching on loose gravel. Before him, the lush valleys of Pakistan-Occupied Kashmir unfurled in the dawn's gold—a tapestry of rugged slopes, terraced fields, and distant peaks striped with late snow. Frost lingered on the grass, and every breath burned with cold and adrenaline.
His objective hadn't changed: gather intelligence on Pakistani military positions and terrorist camps in POK. But now, with the system humming quietly inside his mind, even the impossible felt close enough to touch. As he walked, a flick of static crossed his vision—a premonition not from the system, but from his own memory of history books yet to be written.
"December 1971",he thought.
The war that changes the map is only seventeen months away. If I don't dismantle these nests now, the cost in blood will be unthinkable.
He lived under the name Nawaz Sharif, a mechanic from Karachi—a shadow with a story, walking the muddy lanes of a border village called Mufti Bazaar, just two kilometers from a key Pakistani military base. The villagers took him for a harmless drifter, a man chasing odd jobs, blending with the seasonal migration of laborers. Exactly as he wanted.
As Karan moved down the narrow, uneven path, he nodded to hawkers arrayed by battered carts, their hands stained with spices and old oil. He caught snatches of local Kashmiri and Punjabi—a music of barter and banter. The scent of frying bread and cumin mingled with coal smoke, sharp enough to make his eyes sting. He stopped at a chai stall, fingers wrapping around a chipped cup, relishing the scald and the cardamom on his tongue.
A battered jeep coughed up a cloud of exhaust as it rolled into the market. Four soldiers in green uniforms spilled out, their laughter raw. Karan watched through lowered lashes, heart rate steady. One soldier—Abdul Rashid, the youngest—broke off, stretching. "I'm heading to the washroom. You guys get the smokes," he called.
Karan dropped a few coins for his chai and slid into the flowing crowd.
> [Stealth Skill Increased to Level 1] >
Suddenly, moving became effortless—a feeling like sliding into cool water. In the alley behind a shuttered shop, Karan trailed the isolated soldier. Abdul Rashid was little more than a boy—hometown stubble, boots still creaking. Karan's hands moved before thought, silent and precise. He grabbed Rashid's head and twisted; the body dropped with a muffled thud.
For a split second, Karan froze. He'd killed before, but never in a stolen time. He reached into Rashid's pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope—a letter from a sister in Sialkot. The weight of history pressed on him; this boy was a cog in a machine that would soon be at war with Karan's home.
Kneeling, Karan summoned "Face Change"—skin tingled, bones shifting microscopically. A moment later the face in the shop window was Abdul Rashid's.
> [Host can sell this body to the System for Gamer Points (G.P.)]>
"Sell," he whispered. Rashid's corpse vanished into silver motes.
Brushing off the dust, Karan—now Abdul—walked back toward the square. His "comrades" called out. "Oi, Abdul! Still alive? We saved you some cigarettes," Adil Sheikh grinned.
"Needed a minute to find the place," Karan replied, Abdul's accent slotting perfectly into the group's rough camaraderie. As the jeep jolted toward the military camp, Karan gazed out the window. He wasn't just a spy; he was a ghost from the future, rewriting the script of a war that hadn't happened yet.
### [Status Window: Mission Progress]
* Host: Karan Shergill (Active Identity: Abdul Rashid)
* Cover Integrity: 94% (Alert: Avoid Sialkot-specific cultural references)
* Current G.P.: 10
* Active Perks: * Gamer Body: Level 1 (Fatigue recovery +5%)
* Adaptive Mind: (Language/Dialect sync active)
* Primary Objective: Infiltrate Mufti Bazaar Outpost and locate the 1971 pre-deployment maps.
* New Insight: Historical Foreshadowing — *The "Operation Searchlight" whispers are beginning. Time is running out.*