Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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Guys we have reached 106 Power stones. With all your supports. Thanks for it.

And hope we would soon reach that 150 mark with all your support.

Guys you could share if you have any remarks until now. And for review it could help me how you view it.

There is a review with only .... and one star. I don’t know what to take from it. And the Chapter he read it didn’t even show he read Chapter 1.

Is this how the review normally works. Or Did I miss something.

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After Few Weeks...

When Parashurama Returned to Mahendragiri Mountain.

He had already seen it.

A body. Headless. Rotting. Poison eating through even death.

He didn’t need explanation. He knew that poison.

He knew that precision. Feeling one of his enemies who wanted to take revenge on him targeted after he had left.

And so—He came faster. Not as a teacher.

But as someone who needed to confirm.

"...."

When he arrived at the top of the mountain.

Two boys. Standing side by side. Training. Alive.

A quiet breath escaped him. Relief. Washed over him.

-Sigh!

If something had happened to them he would have never able to forgive him.

As he will be failing as a Guru¹ who failed to protect his students.

That too the one carrying the fate of the Yug as Sage Durvasa once told him.

Seeing him back. Both Devara and Karna paused their training and greeted him.

"Greeting Guru¹."

"Greeting Guru¹."

And then they began to explain what happened here after he left.

He listened carefully and taking in all in.

To everything happened. To Trinavarta’s end. To Devara’s choice. To mercy for his enemy who surrendered.

His head dipped slightly as he nod in approval.

-Nod

"Good."

Because Devara has. Not just strength. But judgment.

And then the story moved to Indra—He heard that part.

Indra

Demanding the bow shamelessly. Speaking of "balance."

Parashurama’s grip tightened. His blood began to boil. Veins rose. All over his body.

As if he was considering did he miss a another king’s head before he ended the war.

"That man..."

His voice didn’t rise.

But the anger in it—Was unmistakable. If Indra was here Devara was sure he would be missing a leg or two at the hands of lord Parasurama.

Then came—Karna’s story. Which made even guru Parasurama stunned and shocked but also feeling pity for his student.

Karna

The son of Surya¹

Abandoned by his own mother at the river banks.

Raised by his new family who adopted him as their own.

Forged by life itself.

Lord Parashurama looked at Karna.

"...."

Not as a student. But as potential to make the world acknowledge him.

"I will train you fully. Into a warrior ...the world cannot ignore."

Then—He turned. Toward Devara as he announces.

"Your training here..."

A pause.

"...is complete."

Devara blinked caught off guard by his announcement.

"...."

-Blink!

"But... Guru¹... I’m still learning archery."

Parashurama laughed softly hearing the panic in Devara’s voice. Not mocking. But knowing.

-Chuckle!

"And you will continue. Under your third guru."

His eyes sharpened. Voice steady. As he proudly began to tell.

"The strongest archer. The pinnacle of archery. The one ...every archer looks up to."

Hearing Lord Parasurama’s declaration about his third Guru¹ who he had not yet met.

Devara’s confusion deepened. But so did something else.

Excitement.

Because if even Lord Parashurama—Disciple of Lord Shiva

Spoke like this—Then this wasn’t ordinary.

Lord Parashurama. Closed his eyes.

The air shifted.

Mantras flowed from his mouth—Not loudly.

But with weight.

And then—It Appeared

An axe. But not his axe.

Not the familiar Vidyudabhi.¹

This one—Was different in colour.

A golden blade. A silver handle.

Exact opposite of Lord Parasurama’s axe.

Embedded with deep red gems—Glowing faintly... Like embers waiting for war.

Parashurama opened his eyes as he looked at the axe in his hand.

"This ...is Rudhirabhra¹. It is the twin brother of my own weapon. Equal in form... Equal in indestructibility... Equal in sharpness..."

But Not in Nature...

His gaze deepened as he spoke about the difference between his axe and this one.

"Mine commands lightning. It grows stronger through speed, force, and precision."

A pause.

Then—

"This one ...thrives on battle itself."

The axe pulsed. Almost... responding. To the claim of Lord Parasurama.

"The stronger the opponent... The greater their numbers... The more it awakens. And unlike mine ...it does not always wait for its wielder. It can act on its own."

The words lingered.

Because this wasn’t just a weapon.

It has a own will and power to act on its own.

Which makes it unpredictable to the enemies who its wielder faces.

Parashurama extended it. Taking one last look at the axe.

Devara stepped forward. Took it. With both hands.

And bowed deeply in respect.

"I will wield it with care. Guru¹."

And as for The Guru Dakshina part where the stundets needs to give something to their guru or needed to fulfill their wish.

Lord Parashurama shook his head lightly.

"You already have."

Devara blinked confused when did he do it.

"You completed what I could not... Years ago."

A name hung in the air—Unspoken.

Bhishma

The duel with him and defeating him in it.

Devara nodded slowly. Not pride. But acceptance.

-Nod!

"...."

Then he asked curiously.

"When will my next guru arrive?"

Parashurama smirked faintly hearing his curious tone.

-Smirk!

"Any moment."

And with that—He turned. And left.

Silence returned. Once lord Parashurama left.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Then—Karna. Stepped forward. And hugged Devara.

Firm. Resolute.

And a vow without any witness to place.

"You’re walking a path guided by many. A destiny bigger than most. According to what I can understand."

His voice steadied.

"Then I’ll be your shield. Whatever comes... I’ll stand beside you. As your friend."

Devara chuckled softly.

-Chuckle!

"...."

Placed his hands on Karna’s shoulders.

No grand speech. No dramatic promise.

Because some bonds—Don’t need words.

The moment Devara held the axe—It spoke. Not in sound. But in intent through his mind.

"Finally... A wielder. Let me fight. Give me strong ones."

"Brawlers... I like brawlers."

Rudhirabhra pulsed like a caged beast finally smelling war.

From the side—Amba-Tejas hummed calmly.

While Pinakodanda remained composed. Like a king watching chaos unfold.

Hearing the voice of the Rudhirabhra.

Devara blinked. And for a moment—A strange memory surfaced.

Naruto

A loud boy declaring—

"I’ll become Hokage!"

Devara sighed softly.

-Sigh!

"Why does this axe sound like him..."

With a flicker of thought—The axe vanished from his hands.

Waiting. Patient. Hungry. For battles and make its name renowned all across the universe.

Then—Devara noticed them.

"...."

Four figures. Walking up the mountain.

Simple clothes.

No weapons. No visible power.

But something—Didn’t match.

Because no common people would approach Mahendragiri Mountain.

Since even through it was the residence of Lord Parasurama but the forest around it also the inhabitant for dangerous wildlives.

Devara stepped forward. Calm. Polite.

"Are you looking for someone? Or perhaps lost? I can guide you—"

The family halted hearing his voice.

All eyes—On him.

"...."

"...."

"...."

And then—The man stepped forward. Middle-aged. Ordinary... at first glance.

But his presence—Was steady. Grounded. Seems to be the family head.

But he was giving a feeling. Like a mountain pretending to be human.

The middle aged man shook his head.

"No."

A small smile.

"I came for you."

Devara paused for a second. Just a moment.

Then—Composed. As he understood what it means. He bowed.

"Are you... my third guru¹?"

The man laughed. Warm. But layered.

"-HAHAHAHA!!!"

"That ...is not decided yet."

His eyes sharpened slightly. As if accessing Devara’s from top to bottom with his eyes alone.

Not threatening—But testing.

"Impress me. With your archery. Then... I may accept you."

A pause.

Then the blade beneath the words—

"Fail ...and I walk away."

The mountain stilled after the man’s declaration.

Even the wind seemed to pause. Because this wasn’t a casual test.

This was selection to see whether he is worth the man’s time in training him.

The man pointed. Down below the mountain they were standing.

A deer. Far. Almost a whisper in the forest. Who was drinking water from a small pond.

"Can you hit it?"

Devara straightened hearing his question. A small proud puff of his chest.

"Of course."

With the months of training. Years of discipline. A bow that answered his call.

"Pinakodanda."

The air shimmered. The bow appeared. Alive. In his raised hand.

Then he aimed at the deer as.

He pulled the string—And yogic energy gathered.

Dark. Condensed. Spiraling into form.

An arrow. Perfect simple one. With sharp edges.

Everything aligned perfectly. Wind. Distance. Breath.

The shot—Was inevitable.

All Devara needs to do was release the shot and it will hit the target with deadly precision.

Then—He Stopped.

A flicker crossed his face. Something small. Something easy to miss.

But not for him.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked closely.

"...."

The string loosened as he stopped his intent.

The arrow—Dispersed into nothingness.

Silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The mountain waited for his answer. Why did he stop his attack even through everything is perfectly aligned with him.

The man watched Devara calmly.

Devara turned to face the middle aged man. Bowed in respect.

"I will not shoot. Forgive me guru.¹

" The man’s eyes sharpened hearing Devara’s refusal.

"...."

"Why?"

Devara spoke calmly taking a breath.

"Its abdomen... Slightly swollen. It drinks water more than it needed for its thirst. Its legs tremble."

A pause.

"It is pregnant."

The wind softened hearing his answer.

As a breeze passes his face as his hair flew slightly. As he spoke seriously.

"It is not just a deer. It is a mother. Carrying life. To kill it now ...is adharma.¹ For her. And for the life that hasn’t even seen this world."

The man’s face didn’t soften. Didn’t change.

"...."

"Kill it."

His voice hardened.

"If you wish to learn under me. You need’s to fulfil his demand."

This was no longer about archery. Not about skill.

It was about who he is... who he choose to be...

Devara shook his head. Firm.

"I cannot."

He bowed again in respect.

"Forgive me."

The air shifted.

The man’s expression darkened. Anger—Clear.

Because the boy had just done something dangerous—He chose principle over opportunity.

Which was to learn under him.

The man’s patience snapped.

No more testing tone. No more calm.

His voice hardened—

"Shoot."

Not a request. A command. With authority.

Devara stood still. Eyes steady.

"I will not."

No hesitation. No fear.

That was enough. The man’s anger flared.

And with a mere thought—A Bow Appears in his hand

Not summoned with words. Not called with effort.

It simply was. In his hand. Ancient. Heavy. Alive.

The bow rose. Not toward the deer. But toward Devara.

The string pulled.

And energy gathered—Not ordinary. Not simple.

An astra.

"Disobey again..."

His voice dropped—Cold.

"...and your punishment will be harsher."

A pause.

"Death."

The moment those words fell—The mountain changed.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Wind howled.

Not natural. Not random.

Deep beneath—Something stirred.

Goddess Bhudevi. Did not speak.

But the land did.

Dust lifted. Trees bent. The air thickened.

As if the earth itself whispered—

"Enough."

Devara stood. Facing the drawn bow. Facing death.

"...."

Yet—Unmoving.

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(Author note:)

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