Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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Devara was brought out of his thoughts by the old chief’s trembling voice.

The king blinked once before looking down.

-Blink!

"...."

The elderly tribal leader was still kneeling before him.

The old man’s eyes were filled with something Devara had seen many times before.

Hope.

Not the ordinary kind.

The desperate hope of a man who had carried a burden his entire life and had suddenly found someone willing to shoulder it.

The chief looked at him almost as if he were looking at a savior.

A chosen hero sent by the heavens.

The old man’s next words only confirmed Devara’s suspicion.

"The Lord has chosen you."

His voice shook with emotion.

"For generations we have waited."

"For generations we protected these forests."

"For generations we prayed that when Pushpasura awakened, Lord Vishnu would not abandon us."

The old man’s eyes became moist.

"And today..."

His gaze moved toward the statue.

"Today he answered."

Devara remained silent.

"...."

Technically...

The chief wasn’t wrong.

He simply didn’t know the entire truth.

There was little point explaining that Lord Vishnu wasn’t merely guiding him.

The deity in question was his father.

That conversation would create far more questions than answers.

So Devara simply smiled.

A small smile.

Then stepped forward.

The old chief looked surprised when Devara placed both hands upon his shoulders.

The king gently helped him back to his feet.

The old man’s body trembled slightly.

Devara looked directly into his eyes.

His voice was calm.

Respectful.

"Elders should not kneel so easily."

The chief opened his mouth.

But Devara continued.

"You have protected these forests for generations."

"You have carried a responsibility many would have abandoned."

"That deserves respect."

The old man’s eyes widened slightly.

No king. No noble.

No warrior had spoken to him like that before.

Devara squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"As for Pushpasura..."

The atmosphere immediately changed.

The old chief became serious.

Even Shakuni and Sage Veenadhara listened carefully.

"...."

"...."

Devara’s green eyes remained steady.

"If he awakens..."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Then I will fight him."

The statement was simple.

No dramatic declaration.

No boast.

Yet somehow it carried more weight than any oath.

The old chief felt his heart pounding.

The confidence.

The certainty.

The divine signs he had witnessed moments earlier.

Everything combined together.

For the first time in decades, genuine excitement appeared on the old man’s face.

He looked twenty years younger.

"No..."

The chief corrected himself.

"When he awakens."

"He will face defeat."

Then before anyone could stop him, the old man hurried toward the temple entrance.

His old legs suddenly moved with remarkable speed.

"Elder?"

One of the warriors called out.

The chief didn’t even slow down.

"I have to tell them!"

The man practically ran out of the temple.

Several warriors hurried after him in confusion.

A few moments later, distant shouting could already be heard from outside.

Shakuni rubbed his forehead.

"I suppose the entire tribe will know within the next ten minutes."

"Five."

Devara corrected him with a chuckle.

The minister sighed rubbing his forehead.

"Five."

Meanwhile, Sage Veenadhara stood quietly.

Very quietly.

Far quieter than normal.

In fact, the sage had been suspiciously silent ever since the divine light incident.

He now looked at Devara the way a scholar might look at an ancient mystery.

Or a man realizing he had spent days challenging someone far beyond his understanding.

Eventually, Shakuni walked closer to Devara.

His expression became serious.

The humor disappeared.

"We should discuss something important."

Devara nodded.

He already knew what was coming.

"The kingdom."

Shakuni folded his arms.

"The moment Pushpasura awakens, things could escalate quickly."

The minister looked toward the forest beyond the temple walls.

"We are far from Trivenivrata."

"Even if we leave immediately, returning will take time."

His gaze shifted back toward Devara.

"If a battle truly occurs..."

"We may not have enough support."

Devara listened silently.

The concern was valid.

Very valid.

Shakuni continued.

"We should send word back."

"Mobilize troops."

"Prepare defenses."

"Alert the ministers."

"Inform Gandhari."

The mention of Gandhari caused Devara to smile faintly.

He could already imagine her reaction.

The moment she learned he was preparing to fight an ancient asura, she would likely attempt to travel here herself.

Which was precisely why he needed to warn them.

The Devara remained thoughtful for several moments.

Then slowly shook his head.

"Troops won’t arrive in time."

Shakuni frowned .

Devara continued with a serious expression.

"Even if they depart immediately, by the time they reach these lands..."

"The battle may already have begun."

The minister knew he was right.

The distances involved were simply too great.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

"And if something happens to us?"

The question hung in the air.

For once, even Sage Veenadhara looked concerned.

Devara looked toward the statue of Lord Vishnu.

Then toward the flower forest beyond.

Eventually he nodded.

"You are right."

Shakuni looked surprised.

The minister had expected an argument.

Instead, Devara continued.

"We should send word."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Not because I expect them to help in time."

"But because they deserve to know."

The king folded his arms.

"If something goes wrong..."

"They need to prepare."

The seriousness in his voice made both Shakuni and Veenadhara silent.

Devara continued.

"Especially with the situation along our borders."

A shadow crossed his face.

His relationship with the neighboring kingdoms was hardly ideal.

The rulers of Kalingavara, Velanadu, Suryagarh, Ananthapura, and Nandivana would not hesitate to exploit weakness if given the opportunity.

If Trivenivrata suddenly lost its king during a crisis...

Chaos could follow.

The ministers needed warning.

The royal family needed warning.

The army needed warning.

The kingdom needed warning.

Shakuni nodded slowly.

"I’ll prepare the message."

Devara smiled.

"Good."

Then his gaze drifted toward the distant forest.

Toward the hidden followers of Pushpasura might be located.

Toward the insects.

Toward the ritual slowly approaching completion.

His expression gradually became serious once more.

Because while everyone else was preparing for a future battle...

Devara had a feeling that battle was already beginning.

They simply hadn’t seen the first move yet.

Seeing the conversation between Devara and Shakuni, Sage Veenadhara felt the final pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

At first, he had only suspected something was unusual.

Then came the riddle contest.

No matter how complicated his questions were, the merchant answered them effortlessly.

Then came the strange authority he carried.

Animals listened to him.

Birds willingly worked for him according to what he found while listening to their conversation.

Entire villages trusted him after speaking to him for only a few moments.

Then came the divine light inside the temple.

The lingering presence of Lord Vishnu.

The reaction of the tribal chief.

And now...

The discussion between the two men.

Sage Veenadhara wasn’t a fool.

Arrogant? Certainly.

Prideful? Without question.

But foolish? Never.

As he watched Devara and Shakuni discuss kingdoms, armies, borders, ministers, and military preparations with complete familiarity, the sage became more certain than ever.

These two were definitely not merchants.

Not even close.

In fact, they likely held extremely high positions within whatever kingdom they came from.

The only thing Veenadhara didn’t realize was just how wrong he was.

The man standing before him wasn’t a noble.

Wasn’t a commander.

Wasn’t a prince.

He was the king himself.

And the man beside him was one of the most influential ministers in the kingdom.

The sage stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"A king perhaps?"

Then he immediately shook his head.

"No, no."

"A king wouldn’t wander around disguised as a merchant."

Meanwhile, Devara and Shakuni exchanged a glance.

"...."

"...."

Neither bothered correcting him.

This guy has been muttering his whole thought not knowing they could him out.

Soon the three exited the temple.

The moment they stepped outside, they stopped.

A massive crowd had gathered.

Men.

Women.

Children.

Elders.

Virtually the entire tribe had assembled.

Word had spread far faster than expected.

The old chief clearly possessed a talent for carrying news.

The moment the crowd saw Devara emerge from the temple, a wave of excitement spread through them.

People whispered among themselves.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Children pointed.

Mothers smiled.

Fathers straightened proudly.

Several elders folded their hands respectfully.

What surprised Devara most was the children.

Many fathers had lifted their sons and daughters onto their shoulders.

Others were carrying toddlers in their arms.

A few children sat atop tree branches trying to get a better look.

One little boy nearly fell before his mother grabbed him by the ear and pulled him back.

The atmosphere felt strangely festive.

As though a great hero had arrived.

Not merely a traveler.

The old tribal chief walked forward and smiled.

His eyes still carried excitement.

"You should see their faces."

Devara glanced around.

The chief chuckled.

"They want to remember this day."

The old man’s voice became emotional.

"Our people have lived with fear for generations."

"Stories of Pushpasura."

"Stories of the war."

"Stories of the betrayal."

"And now..."

He looked at Devara.

"They finally have hope."

The crowd nodded.

Many had tears in their eyes.

Not because the danger had passed.

But because they no longer felt alone.

Several parents looked toward their children.

They wanted them to remember this moment.

To tell it to their own children one day.

To tell future generations that they had personally witnessed the warrior chosen to oppose Pushpasura.

After allowing the excitement to settle somewhat, Devara turned toward the tribal chief.

His expression became serious.

"Elder."

The old man nodded.

"What is it?"

Devara looked around the settlement.

The houses.

The children.

The elderly.

The families.

Then toward the forest beyond.

"The tribe should relocate."

The old chief frowned.

"Relocate?"

"To Mallikavana."

The suggestion immediately surprised everyone.

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

Devara continued.

"There is a strong possibility the followers of Pushpasura will attack."

His words immediately silenced everyone.

The smiles disappeared.

The reality of the situation returned.

The king folded his arms.

"They now know something is happening."

"The insects failed."

"The flower fields remain intact."

"Sooner or later they will investigate."

The old chief slowly nodded.

The logic was sound.

Devara continued to explain his point.

"If they discover your tribe is helping us..."

"They may come here first."

Several warriors exchanged grim looks.

The possibility had crossed their minds as well.

The king pointed toward the children gathered around them.

"You have many young ones."

The chief’s expression softened.

He looked toward the families.

The mothers.

The fathers.

The infants.

The children who had no idea how dangerous the situation truly was.

Devara continued.

"In Mallikavana, you will be safer."

"The village is larger."

"The defenses are stronger."

"The king himself is expected to visit during the upcoming festival."

That last point drew considerable attention.

The tribal elders exchanged glances.

The old chief remained silent.

Thinking. Considering.

"...."

His gaze slowly moved across the gathered faces.

The faces of his people.

People who trusted him.

People whose lives depended upon his decisions.

Then suddenly...

His mind drifted back to the story he had told earlier.

The story of the old chief.

The attack.

The burning settlement.

The children caught in a conflict they never started.

The consequences that lasted generations.

The old man slowly closed his eyes.

For a moment, he imagined what would happen if Pushpasura’s followers attacked.

The children standing before him.

The mothers.

The elderly.

The same tragedy repeating itself.

When he opened his eyes again, the hesitation was gone.

The old chief nodded firmly.

"We’ll go."

The crowd looked surprised.

Some even looked nervous.

But none protested.

The old man raised his voice.

"We will move to Mallikavana."

The murmurs grew louder.

Then gradually settled.

The chief looked toward Devara.

"For generations our tribe remained hidden."

"For generations we protected this forest."

He took a deep breath.

"But protecting our children comes first."

Devara smiled and nodded.

The decision had been made.

Around them, tribe members had already begun discussing preparations.

Gathering supplies.

Packing belongings.

Organizing families.

What they didn’t realize was that this decision would likely save many lives.

Because somewhere deep within the forest...

The followers of Pushpasura were already preparing their next move.

And the game between the two sides had finally begun.

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(Author note:)

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