Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology

October 15th, 1674

Belgrade, the Ottoman Empire

Han Billisi held a bunch of round metal balls in his hand. His expression was filled with uncertainty, but anyone who knew him well knew that he was filled with excitement at a single look in his eyes.

"What do you think, my lord, are these bullets acceptable to your cause?" A chubby middle-aged man rubbed his hands and enquired, his whole demeanour appearing extremely sleazy.

Han was already convinced, and the greed in his heart was about to overwhelm him, but he still maintained the last bit of rationality in his mind.

He shook his head and threw the bullets aside, "These bullets won't work."

"Although on the outside they all look the same, how can you fool me with these inferior products?"

"These are clearly defective bullets, where there is no uniformity in them, and I can even feel that some bullets are heavier than the others, even if they look like they are the same size."

"Tell me honestly, how many workshops do you manage? The bullets you have produced are not good at all."

Hearing the outright refusal, the chubby middle-aged man didn't feel angry or disappointed. Instead, he continued to maintain his smile, or rather it appeared even bigger, all his front teeth showing in a pale yellow light. "That may be so, my lord, but I know that you are under immense pressure to supply bullets to the frontline. We all know that the generals have requested more ammunition, but the empire is unable to produce them quickly enough, so why don't you take this opportunity to purchase the bullets of mine and send them to the frontline? Although their quality is a little lacking like you said, they are cheap, my lord."

"How cheap?"

The merchant smiled gleefully in his heart, the fish had been hooked, but on the outside, he did not change his expression at all. He continued to smile enthusiastically and responded, "They cost nearly two times less, my lord. Just imagine, if you can fulfil the quota while the others are struggling, just think of how many merits you will receive. It's fascinating, isn't it? Not only can you fulfil your own quota, but you can also help out your fellow colleagues in the logistics department and gain their favour."

Thinking about something, he quickly added, coming closer in a whisper, "My lord, let me tell you a secret. The reason why I'm able to sell these things so cheaply is that the artisans under my control are still beginning to learn blacksmithing, so their skills are a little lacking, but they are absolutely perfect in mass producing these things in large quantities. If you want more bullets in larger quantities, I can sell you at an even cheaper price. I know my lord is suffering a lot as the logistics officer, so you can keep the discounted money for yourself. I will be sure to claim that no discount has been provided."

Han Billisi was excited by the price and even more excited by the future prospects promised. He makes a bit of money being the logistics officer responsible for providing ammunition, but it is not to the point of reaching the level of some big shots. But now, if what the fat guy opposite said was true, he really had a chance. He once again took a handful of bullets from the bucket of them and weighed his options carefully. In the end, his eyes turned bloodshot, and he replied,

"Alright, I will do this business. Give me all of your bullets, and I will conclude the deal immediately."

The middle-aged businessman acted immediately. The very next day, he shipped multiple carriages filled with ammunition to Han Billisi.

What Han Billisi and the middle-aged merchant were not aware of was that they were not the only ones doing such business in the Ottoman Empire. After Emperor Vijay gave his approval for Roshan's plan, the Bharatiya Internal Pragya, working with the logistics department of the Bharatiya Army, quickly shipped all the fraudulent bullets into Russian territory through the Caspian Sea. From the Russian territory, all the goods were divided and secretly shipped into the Ottoman Empire, where they reached the hands of various workshop managers who were responsible for managing the artisans.

These workshop managers, filled with greed, even without having to be directed, contacted the military on their own initiative and dumped a large batch of bullets on the logistics personnel of the military. The logistics personnel like Han Billisi, who was already under great pressure due to constant demands from the frontline, accepted the cheap ammunition and shipped the ammunition along with their own ammunition, everything mixed, to the frontline.

And it did not take long for the effects to be noticed.

---

The fortress of Transylvania, the Ottoman Empire.

November 14th, 1674

The weather was beginning to chill, but the war had reached its bloodiest point.

Artillery from both sides was flying in the air, causing chaos and destruction. Gunfire could be heard constantly, and people were dying everywhere.

Majid was like a machine. He constantly loaded bullets into his rifle and kept firing. He had no other thought in his mind, it was just to keep fighting so that his wife within the city wouldn't have to be put in harm's way, completely forgetting the scene he saw where his squadron captain came out of his house and his wife was crying miserably. But that didn't matter, since her staying alive was all that mattered.

"Bang!"

He reloaded the gun and fired once again—

"Click!"

The gun did not fire. Instead, black smoke came out of the muzzle, and the gun got jammed.

He slightly frowned, but he took another bullet. With practice, he cleared the insides of the gun and reloaded the bullet once again. After putting in the gunpowder, he pulled the trigger, and once again, the gun did not fire. He was practically a machine at this point. Without changing his expression, he cleared out the blockage and took out another bullet, trying to reload it. But just then, a stinging pain was felt in his shoulder.

"Ahh!" he screamed, finally bringing some emotions out of his dull mind. He looked to the side and saw he was hit in the shoulder. He was bleeding profusely. He knew that he would die if the wound was not bandaged, so he looked around, trying to see if he could find a clean cloth, but unfortunately, he did not. Instead, what he did find were all his comrades lying dead in a pool of their own blood. His eyes turned red. How had he not noticed this? He became extremely regretful. The sadness hit him heavier than ever, it was as if his heart was pulled out by someone and torn into pieces.

Why did he have to go through so much?

Didn't he just want to fight for his country?

Then why was he sent here to die?

Why did the guns fail so often?

Why did the general, time and time again, send them to die?

Why did his wife have to be defiled?

Why?

He didn't want any of this.

Soon, his desperation turned into rage—bloodcurdling rage.

"Ahhhhhh!!"

Majid screamed like a wounded beast, his cries making anyone feel their hearts palpitate. Sadly though, he was not the only one in such a miserable state. His screams were drowned out by the cries of despair filling the battlefield.

The single move made by Roshan left the defence of Transylvania full of holes. The firing rate of the guns of the Ottoman soldiers in Transylvania, which was around 70%, immediately dropped to below 50%, a number that is basically equivalent to a pronounced death sentence.

Russian generals Gregory Ramodanovsky and Ivan Rzhevsky, along with the Cossack Hetmans led by Ivan Samoylovych and Demian Mnohohrishny, did not let the opportunity slip. They struck the Ottomans with everything they had.

To say the battle was bloody would be an understatement. With every passing second, at least a thousand soldiers fell. The stream of blood that usually flowed like a tributary turned into a gushing river. Even the crows circling the sky grew afraid of the slaughter, yielding the skies to vultures and eagles, who welcomed the carnage.

Mustafa Pasha and Ibrahim Pasha, the two generals of the Ottoman Empire, did not decide to retreat, since they already knew what was waiting for them. So Mustafa decided to slit his own throat and die, while Ibrahim Pasha completely opened up the fortress of Transylvania and conceded defeat.

The battle was immediately over. The flag of the two-headed black eagle flew up in the sky, high and mighty. This change of events immediately set off chaos in the city.

For people who were already used to death and despair, knowing that the war was over and there would be no death and no one would be oppressing them was a little hard to adapt. Most of the people were paranoid, and the Russians coming in was all it took for the people to associate them with bloodthirsty demons coming in to butcher them all.

"They are here, get them!!!"

The civilians screamed and went running with pitchforks, sickles, and whatever they could take in their hands, the Russians were taken aback; they never expected to be received like this. But they had not fought bloody battles for the last two years for nothing, their minds, which had momentarily relaxed, tensed up once again.

There were no fewer madmen who had dragged themselves out of the pits of Hell in the Russian army, if the civilians in Transylvania were paranoid lunatics, then the battle-beaten Russians were bloodthirsty madmen.

They moved forward without hesitation and butchered everyone that stood in their way, it did not matter if they were civilians, it did not matter if they were women, it did not matter if they were Christians, all that mattered was anyone who came in their way must die, the will of the battle-hardened army should not be challenged.

The killings only led to more killings. Thankfully, a few still clung to sanity. Instead of charging blindly at the enemy in a desperate attempt to kill before being killed, as their instincts screamed, they listened to the faint, fading voice of reason and fled the city.

An old man who escaped turned back to see the Palace of Transylvania from a distance and had a look of shock on his face. He'd really escaped. It was incomprehensible for him. In the end, unable to bear the mental burden, where he felt like he had abandoned his entire family who suffered with him, he took a rock and constantly stabbed his throat with it until eventually his hands lost all their strength and he died.

Right next to the old man, a young boy ran with all his might, carrying a little girl over his shoulder.

---

When the news about what happened in Transylvania reached the ears of all the leaders of the world, they had no idea how to react.

Whether it was Dmitri of the Russian Empire, Leopold of the Holy Roman Empire, Charles of England, Louis of France, Giovanni of Italy, Gustav of Sweden, Frederick of Prussia, John of Poland, William of the Netherlands, Baltasar Charles of Spain, or even Vijay of the Akhand Bharatiya Empire, none of them had any words to describe the bloodbath.

Even reading about it made most of them breathless. In the end, with what little humanity they had in their hearts, all the European nations allowed the Transylvanians to migrate to their countries, and Vijay, in his personal capacity, donated 1000 tonnes of grain to the people who survived Transylvania.

Fate is sometimes mischievous. The legend of Dracula, which appeared in an alternate timeline, did not appear in this world, but the legend of the city of death, the city of Satan, and the city of blood fiends definitely appeared.

P.S. Hopefully, the quality is recovered

P.S. Thanks, Abhi, for the idea