Chapter 27 - 25: Kamsa’s Suffers From Fear....
(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
<You have any intersting stories about demons which could be useful> --> Comment here.
Guys Its seem priviledge is started Thats why the Chapters I uploded reached it.
So I reduce the Chapter size to 1800 words from next Chapter till I clear the privilage limit.
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Mathura Kingdom...
In the royal court of Mathura at the throne.
Sat Kamsa Alone.
The torches burned low.
The court—silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
But his mind—Anything but.
Fourteen years ago—The night of his sister’s wedding.
Devaki and Vasudeva
Seated in the chariot.
And he—Driving it himself. Laughing. Proud.
Telling them how he going to spoil his nephew.
Until—The heavens shifted which took their attention. And the whole kingdom.
A voice descended. Cold. Unavoidable. Which echoed across the whole kingdom even to the near by kingdoms.
"Your sister’s child... will guide your end."
Fear turned to rage. Rage turned to action.
He imprisoned them. Who he was speaking happily a moment ago.
Chained them at the prison. Dark walls. Admit his sister’s begging him.
And then—He went further.
As his fear and uneasiness spread through his whole being.
He killed. Each child born to her.
One by one.
Not because he was told to—But because he refused to take chances.
And Yet... Something is missing he could feel it.
Years passed...
The prophecy did not strike. But something else did.
For the past 10 years he has been suffering from the lack of sleep.
Every night—The same vision.
A boy. Not a child. Not yet a man. A teen—Clad in golden armor.
Dragging him through the ground admit his struggle and scream by holding his hair.
Across an arena. Helpless. Humiliated.
Before the boy—His sister Devaki. And her husband Vasudeva. Stood.
Their eyes were cold and looked at him with disgust. Their voices—Sharp.
"Kill him. Give us justice."
"For our children."
And the boy with his green eyes while his face was not visble due to the radiant sun behind him—Raised his hand.
Not hesitating. Not doubting.
Kamsa jolted awake from his dream no matter how many times he has the same one.
"...."
Sweat soaked. Breathing ragged. Heart racing.
He had prepared. Increased guards.
Strengthened prisons. Watched every shadow.
Yet—The fear remained.
Because this wasn’t logic. It was instinct.
He didn’t know it. Couldn’t know it.
But somewhere—A boy now walked the world.
Wearing the seeds of that very armor he saw in his dream.
Kamsa stood alone as he left the royal court and to the balcony.
Years had passed.
Orders had been sent—In every direction.
"Find the boy."
Golden armor. Green eyes.
His Rakshasa generals searched.
Hunted. Killed.
Yet—They found nothing.
"....."
Kamsa poured wine in frustration.
Deep red. Swirling like blood in the cup. Gleaming under the moon light.
"Where are you...?"
He muttered. Not in anger.
But in something worse—Uncertainty.
As if his eyes were blind.
Then—A voice. Light. Almost playful.
"Narayana... Narayana..."
Kamsa’s face darkened instantly hearing it.
"...."
Standing before him—Was Sage Narada
Veena in hand as if ready to play at any moment.
Smile faint. Eyes knowing. As if he was watching a drama show on a stage performance.
Narada tilted his head slightly.
"O King Kamsa there is still time... Abandon this cruelty. Turn to a new path. Before it is too late."
Kamsa scoffed. A sharp, humorless laugh.
-HAHA!
"Too late?"
He stepped forward.
"Tell me, sage—Would any sane man sit peacefully ...knowing death is coming for him?"
Narada sighed. Not surprised.
-Sigh!
"...."
But disappointed hearing Kamsa’s irritated tone in his voice.
"Then at least... Release your sister. Release Vasudeva. If not—Do not kill innocent children."
His voice lowered in warning.
"Or your end... will be far more brutal than you imagine."
Silence.
"....."
"....."
"....."
The air is heavy after sage Narada uttered those words.
Then—Kamsa waved his hand dismissively.
"If you have nothing else to say—Leave."
A few curses followed. Sharp. Bitter.
Continuing to enjoy the wine at the moon light.
Narada’s expression changed hearing Kamsa’s dismissive tone.
"...."
The playfulness—Gone.
Replaced by something ancient. Unavoidable.
"Your death..."
A pause.
"...is already born."
The words landed heavy as Kamsa stopped as he turned to look at Sage Narada with wide eyes.
"No matter what you do—You cannot stop it."
And just like that—He vanished. Leaving behind—A fading echo.
"Narayana... Narayana..."
The hall fell silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Kamsa stood still.
Wine untouched. Mind restless.
Because deep inside—He knew.
This wasn’t a warning. It was a confirmation. To what he was searching for an answer which he hates to hear most at present.
Kamsa snapped. The wine glass flew—Shattering where Narada
Had stood moments ago.
"...."
His breath grew heavy. Eyes burning in anger and desperation.
Then—He looked up. At the sky.
His voice thundered—Calling names. One by one.
The generals of his darkness:
Putana. Trinavarta. Bakasura. Aghasura. Dhenukasura. Vatsasura. Keshi. Arishtasura.
The clear night—Darkened. Once he called their names.
Clouds twisted. Shadows moved. And then—They descended.
One by one. Landing within the court.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Each bowing. Respectful. Deadly.
Kamsa stepped forward. His voice cut like a blade.
"Useless. All of you."
The court trembled.
"You cannot find a single child? A boy with golden armor and green eyes?!"
One Rakshasa spoke carefully—
"
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then—King Kamsa laughed. Loud. Sharp. Unstable.
-HAHAHAHA!!!
He stepped closer. Eyes locked on the speaker.
"...."
"Not born?"
His smile twisted.
"He is already born."
The words dropped like iron.
Kamsa raised his hand. Voice cold now. Controlled.
"Three years. That is all you have. Find him. Or I will personally ensure ...your deaths are slower than mine."
No one argued. No one spoke.
They bowed deeper as their face turned pale.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Because they knew—This was no empty threat.
One by one—They vanished into the night.
Spreading across the land. Searching. Hunting. Once again.
Prison Dungeons...
Deep within the dungeons of Mathura
Sat Devaki and Vasudeva
Bound.
Not just by chains—But by grief.
Devaki’s voice trembled.
"Why...?"
Tears streamed down her face.
"He once cared for me... Protected me... How did my brother become this...?"
Her words broke.
Because the answer—Was too cruel to hold.
Vasudeva placed a steady hand over hers.
Firm. Grounding.
"Everything will be alright."
Not certainty. But faith. They were living on this faith from the day Kamsa began to kill their sons and daughters.
Then—A voice. Soft. Playful. Which doesn’t belong to the prison appeared.
"Narayana... Narayana..."
Both froze hearing it.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The guards—Did not react. Did not move. Did not hear.
And before them—Appeared Sage Narada
Radiant. Unbound by walls.
Narada looked at them—Carefully.
Understanding their pain. Yet beyond it.
His voice softened.
Devaki held her breath.
"...."
"Take the child. And leave. Go to Mahendragiri."
A pause.
Then—
"There... You will meet a boy. With green eyes. And golden armor."
Both of them froze hearing the discription.
"...."
"...."
"He... will bring the death of your brother. And save your child."
The weight of those words—Settled deep.
Not fear. Not confusion. But something fragile.
For the first time in years—Devaki’s tears changed.
Not of despair. But of possibility.
"...."
Narada stepped back. His form fading.
"Narayana... Narayana..."
And he was gone. Just like that.
The guards remained still.
Unaware. Because they truly heard nothing.
Wrapped in the subtle
Trinavarta Palace...
Far beneath the surface—In the shadowed dominion of Patalok
Stood the fortress of storms.
And within it—Returned Trinavarta
A general. A force of destruction.
But before he could settle—A figure rushed forward.
Garutraaksha Restless. Relieved. Seeing him come back.
Without wasting time—He presented the glass bottle.
Inside—Meghavarnaa Still raged. Still cursed.
Trinavarta’s expression darkened.
"...."
The air grew heavier.
"Explain."
Garutraaksha spoke in a heavy tone after gulping down his own saliva—The boy. The failed attacks. The humiliation. The sealing.
Each word—Fueled something deeper inside Trinavarta.
Not just anger. Pride hurt. Insult.
"A mere boy...?"
His voice dropped. Dangerously calm. As he spoke.
Then—He paused. Eyes narrowing feeling something is off.
"Did he have..."
A step closer.
"...green eyes and golden armor?"
Hope flickered. Unnatural.
Garutraaksha nodded in confusion hearing his brother in law’s question.
After he recalled the details when his wife striked a golden armor protected the boy.
For a second—Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then—Trinavarta laughed. Loud. Wild.
"HAHAHAHA!"
This wasn’t just revenge anymore.
This was—Opportunity. The very boy King Kamsa feared.
Without hesitation—He took the bottle.
Crushed it. With brute force.
-CRUSH!
Light burst. Storm spilled outward.
Meghavarnaa reformed—Breathing heavily. Eyes burning in anger and humiliation she had suffered.
She stepped forward. Showing her injuries. Her nose which was cut and her few fingers which were now missing.
Her broken pride.
"I want justice."
Trinavarta’s expression hardened. Seeing his cute sisters face turned like this.
Anger—Controlled now.
Focused. Because this was bigger. He needs to act carefully.
"...."
He turned away slightly. Thinking.
"If I tell the others... The credit will be divided."
A smirk formed. Sharp.
-Smirk!
"No."
This would be his victory.
His rise. His claim.
"We go alone."
His voice cut through the chamber.
"We find him. We kill him. Before anyone else even knows."
Already imagining how king Kamsa would reward him once he succeeded in killing the boy.
Mahendragiri Mountain...
On Mahendragiri... Time passed differently.
Six more months. Then more.
Until—A full year.
Of nothing but—Cutting logs.
Devara’s swings had changed.
From effort—To instinct.
From force—To precision.
Every strike now—Knew where it would land.
-Thud.
One day—Just as he raised his axe—A voice stopped him.
"Devara."
He turned.
There stood Guru Parashurama
Still. Watching him cut the log.
"Today..."
A pause.
"You learn to fight with the axe."
Devara’s eyes lit up. Finally. Not wood.
"Finally!!!"
But combat.
Then—Guru Parashurama spoke again.
"Your first lesson—Do not get cut."
Devara blinked confused hearing his words.
-Blink!
"...."
That was it? No stance? No explanation?
But The Answer Arrives in Steel
Before he could ask—Guru Parashurama inhaled deeply.
-Sigh!
Then—Moved. Without any warning.
The axe appeared in his hand.
And in the same breath—It swung. Fast.
Silent. Deadly.
-SWOOSH!!!
Instinct Over Thought as Devara didn’t think.
His body reacted. He shifted. Barely.
The blade passed—A hair’s breadth from his skin.
"...."
The ground behind him—Split.
-BAM!!! -CRAACKKK!!!
A deep scar carved into earth.
Devara turned. And froze.
-Gulp!
Because the man before him—Was no longer just a guru.
Lord Parashurama Looked at him like—Prey.
"...."
No warmth. No softness. Only intent.
"Good."
A single word. Then—Another swing.
This wasn’t teaching. This was survival.
Each second—A test.
Each movement—Life or death.
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(Author note:)
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