Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(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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Devara had avoided the first strike. Barely.

And Lord Parashurama

Noticed. Not impressed. But... acknowledged.

Since it was his warning attack.

The next attack came—A clean vertical slash.

Perfect. Precise. Unforgiving. In one clear motion.

Devara was off-balance.

Caught in the middle of. Wrong stance. Wrong timing.

He didn’t think. He bent.

"...."

An unnatural angle.

Almost breaking posture—But not breaking.

The axe passed. Missing by a hair.

Then—Pain short through his body. Not because of the axe strike.

But a kick. Sharp. Fast. Unseen.

Landed on him in his rib.

Devara staggered back.

"...."

Feet dragging across the ground.

He looked up. Eyes sharper now as he looked at his guru Parasurama.

Because he understood—This wasn’t axe training. This was combat in order to strengthen his battle instincts.

Lord Parashurama spoke in a serious tone—

"Use your axe. Block. The next one will be stronger."

He didn’t wait for Devara who to get ready. Didn’t pause.

He moved. Fast. Closing distance in an instant with his eyes narrowed.

The axe came descending from above—Aimed at Devara’s chest.

"...."

This time—There was no escape. He cant react in time to avoid the attack.

Devara reacted gritting his teeth. His axe rose. Just in time to block.

Metal met force.

-CLANG!!!

-RIPPLES!!!

A shockwave rippled across by the impact of the two axes crashing at each other.

Devara’s feet slid back.

"...."

One step. Two. Three.

But—He held his ground.

Still looking at lord Parasurama for any attacks which might come in a trickier way.

Lord Parashurama nodded seeing the focused look on Devara’s face.

-Nod!

"...."

A small movement. But meaningful.

Then—Everything accelerated.

Strikes came—From angles that didn’t make sense.

-CLANG!-CLANG!-CLANG!-CLANG!...

Left—Right—Above—Behind—Not leaving a breather for Devara to breath. while he was forced to act.

Devara moved even through he felt overwhelmed on the on-slaughtered attack’s on him.

All he could do was. Dodging. Blocking. Learning by looking at the way Lord Parasurama moved around.

How flexible his body was even through it was well build.

Now he was learning. Not through teaching—But through survival.

Each attack—Slightly different.

Slightly faster. Slightly heavier. Like a storm testing its victim.

His breathing changed from anxious to calmer. Steadier. Controlled.

His eyes—Tracking. Predicting. Trying to see through those movements of Lord Parasurama.

Not perfectly—But improving.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.

Under Lord Parashurama guidance. Devara changed at a visible rate.

No longer reacting late—He began to anticipate. The next attack and where it could get from.

No longer just surviving—He began to adapt.

Each strike he blocked—Cleaner.

Each dodge—Sharper.

Each breath—Controlled.

Four months passed like this.

Meanwhile...

Outside the Mountain range...

At the outskirts—Where the forest thickened—Three figures waited.

Trinavarta. Meghavarnaa. Garutraaksha

Hidden. Watching. Waiting for the right moment to attack Devara.

Meghavarnaa crossed her arms. Lightning flickered faintly around her.

"Why are we waiting? We can just go up there and kill that brat."

Trinavarta turned. Slowly.

"...."

And looked at her—Like she had just suggested walking into fire.

His voice dropped.

"Do you even know... who lives on that mountain?"

A pause. Heavy.

He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to.

Because even rakshasa—Knew.

Garutraaksha swallowed. Hard. Hearing his brother in law’s words.

-Gulp!

"...."

Because he understood.

If they stepped wrong—They wouldn’t die slowly.

They wouldn’t even realize they were dead.

Meghavarnaa clicked her tongue. Annoyed.

-Tch!

"Then what? We just sit here?"

Trinavarta turned back toward the mountain. Eyes narrowed.

"We wait. For him to come down. Away from that place."

Because real predators—Don’t rush into danger. They move it. Wait for the right moment to hunt it’s prey.

Trinavarta sighed internally.

-Sigh!

’She’s truly the dumbest creature alive...’

But aloud—He said nothing.

"...."

Because even fools like her—Can be useful.

On Mahendragiri Mountain...

Devara had changed again. Under Lord Parashurama.

Training was no longer survival. It was combat.

Real. Dangerous. Unforgiving. If he fails to block it.

As time moved the training intensity is increased to the point.

Their clashes—Closer. Sharper. Deadlier.

No hesitation. No restraint.

And Devara—Adapted. As if—He was meant for this.

One evening—As the sun dipped—Lord Parashurama stopped. The practice. Turned. As he looked at Devara seriously and nodded his head in approval.

-Nod!

"From tomorrow... You begin archery."

Devara nodded instantly. Eyes bright.

-Nod!

"Thank you, Guru¹."

Lord Parashurama left—Silent as always.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The moment he was alone—He heard it again.

Not one voice. Two. Intertwined. Calling him.

"Devara..."

He moved. Across the mountain.

From ridge to ridge. From tree to stone.

Looking. Listening. Trying to find where these voices been coming from.

No Source... Until. Nothing. Nowhere.

Until—His eyes stopped.

"...."

At the top—A small lake. Formed by rainwater.

Still. Clear. But—Not Normal. Because.

The surface shimmered. Not like water.

Like something beneath it—Was alive.

The voices grew—Louder now. Clearer. Pulling. Inviting.

Devara stepped closer. His reflection trembled on the surface of the clear water.

But not from wind. From something deeper.

Two presences. Ancient. Waiting.

He could feel it as if that what ever inside is calling him wanted him to enter the water.

The mountain held many lessons—But this—Was not one taught by Lord Parashurama

This was something else.

Something older. Something that had been—Waiting.

Now impatient decided to reveal where it was.

"...."

Devara didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward—And dove into the pond.

-SPLAASHHH!!!

The moment he entered—Something felt wrong.

"...."

Not danger. Depth of the pond.

From outside—It was small.

But inside—It stretched. Deeper. Wider.

Like space itself had folded.

Thanks to his blessing—Water welcomed him.

Carried him. Not resisted. Since it was his natural ground.

He moved downward—Toward the light.

At the bottom—He saw it. The ground. Alive. Brimming with life.

Snakes. Hundreds of them. Coiled. Layered.

Watching. Silent guardians.

"...."

And at their center—Two bows were rested.

One—Broken into two half.

Silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The other—Perfect. Radiating a faint glow. Alive with presence.

As Devara moved closer to take a closer look—The serpents stirred.

Heads lifted. Eyes fixed. Tongues flickered.

-Shhh!!!...

"...."

The water stilled by the sudden focus. Time slowed.

Every gaze—On him.

Then—Something changed. The snakes paused.

Their hostility—Didn’t vanish. But softened.

Because they felt it.

His aura. Pure. Balanced. Recognized. As a friendly creature not a hostile one.

They did not attack. They did not retreat.

They watched.

Allowing him—But not trusting him fully.

The voices—Now clear. Coming from—The bows. Both of them.

One voice—Calm. Steady. Ancient.

The other—Sharper. Broken.

Yet—Burning. With power.

Devara paused for a second as if a connection as been established.

Something inside him—Resonated.

Not understanding—But knowing what this bows were.

Inside his mind—The system activated.

And what it revealed—Stopped him completely.

"...."

The shattered bow—Was not ordinary.

It was Pinaka.

The bow of Lord Shiva

A weapon forged by Vishwakarma

This was no simple divine relic.

It was the bow—That once aided in the destruction of the Tripura.

When the three flying cities fell—To a single, unstoppable force.

The Pashupatastra

And now—That very bow—Lay broken.

Silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Beside it—Untouched. Radiating calm strength—Was Kodanda

The bow of Lord Rama

Unlike Pinaka—This bow did not roar.

It breathed. Steady. Balanced.

This was the bow that stood through exile—Through war—Through the fall of King Ravana.

Devara didn’t move. Couldn’t.

"...."

Because before him—Lay two paths.

[🔴 Pinaka (Broken)

Raw destruction

Absolute power

Power of Lord Shiva’s wrath in its celestial form

🟢 Kodanda (Whole)

Balance Precision

Dharma and restraint]

It wasn’t just their power. It was their presence.

Why were they here? Why together?

And most importantly—Why Him?

"...."

The voices—Came from both. Calling him.

Not demanding. Not forcing. Inviting.

Around him—The serpents watched.

Still. Unblinking.

Because this moment—Was not about strength.

It was about choice.

"...."

Devara floated still. Between—Pinaka And Kodanda

Seconds passed.... To minutes...

But for him—It felt longer.

Pinaka— Destruction. Power without restraint. A force that ended worlds.

Kodanda—Calm. Steady. A weapon that upheld dharma.

But then—His thoughts deepened.

Kodanda was not just a bow.

It was a reflection—A descendant—Of Sharanga bow.

The celestial weapon of Lord Vishnu

A lineage of balance. Of preservation. It carries.

This wasn’t about strength. Both were beyond him.

This was about—Resonance.

From Pinaka—A deep, echoing presence.

Heavy. Ancient.

From Kodanda—A softer call. Firm. Guiding.

Meanwhile—On cave...

Two figures stepped out. Lord Parashurama And Karna

Karna looked around.

"He’s late..."

Unusual. Very unusual. That too when it was eating time.

They stepped forward.

Toward the mountain’s edge.

And then—They saw it.

"...."

"...."

The pond—Was glowing. Shimmering.

Radiating something... Ancient. As if it was calling someone.

For the first time—Lord Parashurama froze.

"...."

Not calm. Not composed. Shocked.

Disbelief etched across his face.

Because he knew. What was located in their he was the one who put it there.

That pond—Was not ordinary. It was sealed. Hidden. Protection which he left for two bows.

Which once shook the worlds and protected it.

Not meant to be found by the wrong hands.

His eyes narrowed.

"Impossible..."

A whisper.

"He... found it? Could it be he has chosen by them?"

Karna looked between the pond and his guru.

"...."

"What is it guru¹?"

But Parashurama didn’t answer. Because his focus—Was locked.

"...."

Below...

Underwater—Devara still stood between two destinies.

Unaware—That above him—Even his guru—Was shaken.

By what he has just witnessed.

Devara exhaled. No more hesitation.

-Sigh!

"Kids hesitate... Men choose..."

A pause. His eyes sharpened forgetting he was still a kid.

"Legends take both."

Both hands moved.

Left—To Pinaka

Right—To Kodanda

The moment his fingers touched them—Reality shattered.

As if waiting for him to do it.

Suddenly...

He wasn’t underwater anymore. He wasn’t on the mountain.

He stood—In something else.

For a second—He thought it was his inner realm.

But no. This was different. He wasn’t creating it.

He was witnessing a history of memory.

Before him—Three cities. Floating. Massive. Identical.

To each other appeard.

Yet—Different. One made of Gold.

Second one made of Silver.

Third one is made of Iron.

They moved. In perfect alignment.

Orbiting like celestial bodies. Waiting.

Then the vision shifted—To Vishwakarma

Forging. Shaping. Creating—Pinaka.

Not as a weapon. But as inevitability.

Then vision changed—He appeared. Lord Shiva with serious expression on his face.

Not as a man. But as something vast.

Limitless.

His form expanded—Towering beyond comprehension.

Pinaka—In its true form—Was drawn.

The string—Vibrated with creation itself.

Then—It came. He summoned a astra as he drew the string. Which started forming through his divine energy.

The Pashupatastra

Not only summoned—Unleashed as he left the string.

Which caused several waves of viberations passes around the space due to the force behind the astra and the string of Pinaka bow.

The arrow flew. Not like an arrow.

Like a falling star. No—Faster. It struck.

All three—At once.

A single moment. A single impact.

And then—The cities—Did not burn.Did not collapse.

They—Ceased at the same time like it has never existed if not for the broken remaining on the space.

One would think there were no cities as such before and ever existed.

"...."

"...."

"...."

No sound. No resistance.

Only—Nothing. A silence after destruction.

Standing there—Watching—Feeling it—Devara understood what it means to be chosen by Pinaka bow.

This was not just power. This was finality.

Pinaka was not a weapon.

It was—A decision. To end. Completely of its existance.

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(Author note:)

I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.

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