Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

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The ground hadn’t finished trembling by the impact of the Kamsa’s mace—And neither had Kamsa.

He moved again. Relentless.

Having enough of being avoided.

The mace came from behind—A brutal arc aimed at Devara’s spine from a difficult angle to block.

-FLASH.

Golden light burst open from Devara’s body again.

Parvati Kavach.

It formed just in time.

The mace struck—And stopped successfully by the armor.

But the force behind the attack—Still traveled through.

Devara was pushed back—Boots grinding into fractured earth—

Balancing through raw impact—Yet—No damage. Not a scratch.

Kamsa’s expression twisted seeing even after his attack got connected it as done nothing to his enemy.

Annoyance was creeping into his mind.

Then—Decision he made what if he can’t do it with his mace. Then he will do it with his own hands.

He threw the mace aside.

"...Enough."

No more weapons. No more distance.

Only fists. Only force.

He still believes he could overpower Devara when it comes to fight using his fist.

He rushed forward trying to maintain his momentum.

A punch came brutal—Heavy—Direct—Enough to shatter bone of a elephant.

But—Devara didn’t step back clearly seen through the intention of Kamsa.

He raised one blade stright at the fist which was coming at him.

-SLICE.

As the sword came in contact with the Kamsa’s fist.

Four fingers fell. Cleanly severed by the sword.

Kamsa’s punch—Collapsed mid-motion as he could feel his fingers were sliced off without much efforts.

"-Ahhh!!!"

For the first time—Pain reached him.

Real. Raw. But Devara didn’t pause for Kamsa to recover from the lose of his fingers.

Devara moved. Not backward—Around. His body shifted—In a Fluid—Precise motion—And both blades followed as if he was waiting for this moment.

-SWISH! -SWISH!

One cut across the ribs. Deep as the blood splashed.

The second—Carved across his back.

Blood followed. Hot. Immediate.

Kamsa staggered—Just a fraction—Then—A scream tore out of him.

Not rage alone. Pain. Which was searing through his back.

Because now—The difference was undeniable.

Each second—Each strike—Devara was getting stronger and stronger as Kamsa could feel it.

And Kamsa—Was starting to fall behind the fight which he first felt he is dominating.

The flames on the blades surged higher.

-Cracks!

Lightning cracked louder.

Kamsa’s blood hadn’t even settled on the ground—And his pride spoke first in irritated.

"You call yourself a warrior—"

His voice cut through the clash,

"—and yet you keep your weapons when I’ve cast mine aside?"

For a moment—Only the crackle of flames along Devara’s blades answered for Kamsa’s accusation.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Then—Devara laughed. Not loudly. Not mockingly. Just... knowingly as if he already knew Kamsa would mention this.

"-Hehe!!!"

"You abandoned your weapon."

A small tilt of his head with a amused look on his face.

"I didn’t."

His eyes locked onto Kamsa’s as if he were an idiot.

"You chose your fight."

A step forward without any hesitation.

"And you expect me to downgrade mine?"

A faint smirk formed.

-Smirk!

"That’s not Dharma¹."

A pause.

"That’s stupidity."

The words landed harder than any strike.

"And I’m not foolish enough to fall for rage."

Silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Then—Kamsa roared. Not controlled. Not measured. But with Pure fury.

"Youuuuu!!!"

The air around him trembled—As Lightning gathered—From the sky—A blade descended hearing its master’s call.

Crackling with energy.

Landing in his grip with a thunderclap.

-RUMBLE! -RUMBLE!..

A sword—Heavy. Dark. Contenting with Lighting around.

Alive with violent intent.

No more restraint. No more pretense of he was the one who was in control.

He charged at Devara.

Steel met flame and lighting.

CLANG—CLASH—CRACK!...

Kamsa struck using his sword—Fast. Heavy with each strike gritting his teeth.

Relentless. Each swing carried the weight of his rage.

"...."

If he had the power to now all he need was to kill Devara in a single swing and cut his body into two parts.

But Devara—Met them. Effortlessly. Since now he was in control

Parry. Deflect. Redirect.

Each move made Kamsa to grit his teeth.

Every strike Kamsa made—Ended in nothing.

His blade met resistance—Not just physical—Superiority.

Devara moved less—But achieved more and more.

Minimal motion. But with Maximum result.

While on the other side Kamsa was having was behaving like a raged beast.

The battlefield around them—Began to clear as the soldiers were hesitant to get closer to the battle.

Soldiers stepped back.

Not ordered. Instinct. They could feel this was not their fight.

Because this was no longer a battlefield exchange through the numbers of them.

This was something else.

Two forces colliding—And anything near it—Would be destroyed caught in between the cross fire.

Kamsa pushed harder even more as if he had lost his ability to think.

Faster. And Faster were the only thought in his mind

But every attempt he did—Ended the same.

Stopped. Countered. Denied.

And with every passing second—The flames on Devara’s blades burned brighter.

The lightning sharper.

The gap—Wider.

What began as a fight—Was becoming something far more dangerous. Like Kamsa was a junior who was learning from his senior.

For Kamsa.

Because now—He wasn’t just losing ground.

He was losing control completely if it passes few more minutes.

Kamsa’s breath grew heavier.

"...."

Not from exhaustion—From frustration of no matter how he attacked he couldn’t break Devara’s defence.

His blade met resistance again.

And again. And again. No matter how many numbers of time he tried.

Then—He stopped.

Just for a heartbeat taking steadying his breath.

His lips moved. As he uttered the mantra—low, sharp, ancient.

The air twisted around.

One Kamsa became two.

Two became five. Five became twenty.

All armed. All moving. All attacking.

From every direction. A perfect storm of blades.

Only one—Real.

The rest—Illusions.

So if Devara didn’t find the real Kamsa he might be the one on the losing end.

Most warriors would hesitate in this situation.

Search for the real one.

Second-guess putting their luck in use.

Devara didn’t. He didn’t see twenty Kamsas.

He saw—Twenty enemies who were charging at him.

And moved. Steel flashed. As each attack arrived.

One strike—Passed through a body.

Another—Nothing same as before passed through the body.

Illusions.

But his rhythm didn’t break. Because hesitation—Was death.

He kept cutting. Turning around moving towards the another Kamsa.

Shifting his stance with each incoming attack.

Letting the fake ones pass.

Answering the real ones—Instinctively.

A blade came from the left—Parried.

Another from behind—Dodged.

A third—Ignored at the last moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

The battlefield blurred into motion.

Until—A fraction of a second.

One attack arrived at the critical direction—Felt different.

Weight under it.

Resistance. Real.

Devara’s blade moved. Faster than thought.

-SLICE.

Kamsa twisted his body trying to dodge the strike—Which he did Barely.

The strike meant for his head—Missed by a breath.

But not entirely. Because His ear—Severed cleanly from his body.

Blood followed instantly.

The illusion shattered.

-Puff! -Puff! -Puff!...

All the copies—Gone.

Leaving only one. The real one.

Kamsa stumbled back—Hand moving to his bleeding side where he was missing a ear—Eyes wide—Not from pain.

From realization of he was clearly at disadvantage now.

Because Devara hadn’t guessed.

He hadn’t searched.

He had simply—Cut until truth revealed itself.

And now—There was nowhere left to hide.

The duel returned to a critical time.

But no longer equal.

Because every trick—Every layer—Was being stripped away from the Kamsa.

The battlefield tightened again.

Not because the armies clashed—But because all eyes began to turn.

From every flank—Bhishma. Drona. Ashwatthama. Karna. King Subala. Dhritarashtra.

They had arrived.

And without a word—They understood looking at the battle which was going on between Devara and Kamsa.

Devara had reached the center.

So they shifted.

Not to interfere—But to seal the field.

Kamsa saw it to as his enemies were breaking through the middle one by one.

And answered. With A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.

The ground trembled.

-Bam! -Bam!

-Bam! -Bam!...

Then—It came.

A massive war elephant which had acted as Kamsa’s mount earlier—Charging straight at Devara.

"...."

Tusks lowered. A living battering ram.

Aiming to suprise attack or buy sometime to its master to have a breather.

So he could get on his rhythm.

Devara didn’t use his Amba-Tejas blades.

He let them vanish as he unsummoned them.

And stepped forward to confront the elephant.

Hands rising—Gripping. The tusks. As soon as it arrived.

-THUD!!!

Impact met resistance as it echoed through around.

The elephant pushed. Powerful. Relentless.

Trying to use its mighty strength for its advantage.

For a moment—Devara slid back.

Boots carving lines into the earth.

But then—He stopped. And pushed back the elephant.

Which started slowly

Step by step—The momentum reversed.

Faster as he pushed back.

Stronger. The balance shifted as the elephant can no longer push him back.

Then—Devara activated his skill Hanuman size control.

His form grew.

Not monstrous—Not uncontrolled—But greater.

Now since his size is larger enough so he could hold the elephant effortlessly.

He lifted. The elephant rose.

Struggling hard. Trumpeting in panic. Helpless.

Held above his head.

And for a moment—The battlefield froze by the majestic display of strength from Devara.

Because that—Was not normal thing one could witness if not for a peak powerful humans battle.

That—Was impossible for a normal human to achieve.

Devara turned his gaze. Toward Kamsa

"...."

Who had already moved to his chariot which holds his bow.

He took his Bow raising it in his hand.

String drawn.

But not aimed at Devara.

Aimed at the sky. His lips moved.

A mantra. Low. Ancient. As Kamsa started to pronounce it.

The air above him darkened feeling the moment.

Yogic Energy gathered.

The sky responded. Clouds twisted. Lightning coiled as if sensing the moment of what is about to come.

Something vast—Was being called.

Not a simple strike. Not a weapon of steel.

An astra. A powerful one at that.

Devara still held the elephant above him.

But now—The weight in the air had changed.

The moment the mantra sharpened—Devara felt it.

Not as sound. As weight.

Something ancient pressed against the world itself.

His grip on the elephant tightened—Then loosened slightly.

Because this—Was no ordinary attack his instincts were screaming at him about the danger which was about to descend.

The sky darkened unnaturally.

Not like a storm.

Like something older than storms had awakened.

The air thinned.

Soldiers—on both sides—

Paused.

Some dropped their weapons.

Because instinct screamed louder than orders.

This was not a battlefield weapon.

This was an ending.

Devara’s eyes locked onto Kamsa

Who stood with his bow raised—Chanting. Focused. Desperate.

Because this—Was not a choice made lightly.

It was a choice made—At the edge.

Devara heard it clearly now.

Every syllable. Every invocation. And there was no doubt.

"...Brahmastra."

One of the most feared astras ever known.

A weapon that did not simply kill—It erased.

Land. Life. Legacy. What ever it was it will be erased.

Everything caught within its reach.

For a moment—Even time seemed to hesitate.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Devara exhaled slowly sensing the moment.

-Sigh!

The elephant in his hands—Felt insignificant now.

He lowered it as if now he could see that battle as moved to the next stage.

Let it fall aside without any harm as the elephant as already passed out due to being upside down for some time.

Because brute strength—Would mean nothing here.

When it comes to such a powerful astra.

Far away—Parashurama stood still as he felt the Brahmastra being called into the battlefield.

Watching the sky.

Not intervening. Yet.

Because he knew—This was the threshold.

If this went unchecked—The battlefield would not survive it.

Nor would the kingdoms. Nor the innocent beyond it.

Devara’s gaze sharpened.

Because now—This was no longer about defeating Kamsa.

This was about containing destruction.

As his mind raced through the possibilities of Brahmastra succeeds in taking its target.

His mind aligned.

Because if a Brahmastra was unleashed—There was only one answer.

And it carried a cost.

The sky above twisted further like it was about to form a tornado.

Kamsa’s chant reached its peak.

And the world—Held its breath.

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(Author note:)

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