Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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Ashwatthama slowly adjusted his grip around his sword.

Across from him, Kravyadanta rolled his massive shoulders before resting the executioner’s cleaver upon one shoulder once again.

The three surviving beasts prowled around their master, growling softly, their crimson eyes never leaving Ashwatthama.

The battlefield itself seemed to hold its breath.

Both warriors knew the next exchange would be far deadlier than the first.

Then...

A deep, solemn sound echoed across Malikavana.

Booooooooooom...

It was followed by another.

And another.

Soon, conches from every corner of the battlefield answered one another until the sacred sound rolled across the entire forest like waves upon the ocean.

Both armies immediately recognized it.

The signal announcing sunset.

The first day of the war...

...had ended.

For a brief moment, weapons remained raised.

Then, almost simultaneously, warriors from both sides began lowering them.

It was not fear.

Nor exhaustion.

It was Dharma.

According to the ancient laws preserved within the Vedas, a righteous war ceased with the setting of the sun.

Once daylight disappeared, combat ended.

To continue fighting under the cover of darkness was considered Adharma, for night concealed truth, encouraged treachery, and deprived warriors of an equal contest.

Even Rakshasas who cared little for righteousness understood one fact.

Pushpasura himself had declared that this war would be fought under the ancient codes until his victory.

To violate them now would undermine his own proclamation.

Kravyadanta clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Tch."

"What dreadful timing."

He looked at Ashwatthama almost regretfully.

"I was just beginning to enjoy myself."

The towering Rakshasa whistled sharply.

The three monstrous beasts immediately abandoned their circling formation and hurried back toward him like obedient hunting hounds.

One by one, Kravyadanta fastened the heavy chains around their necks before securing them once more to the massive chariot.

Each beast continued glaring at Ashwatthama, their jaws snapping impatiently as though frustrated that their hunt had been interrupted.

Kravyadanta climbed onto the driver’s platform and gathered the reins.

Before leaving, he looked down at Ashwatthama and grinned.

"You’ve survived today."

"But don’t mistake survival for victory."

He lazily rested the enormous cleaver across his lap.

"The next time we meet..."

His tongue slowly passed over his sharpened fangs.

"...you won’t be standing before me."

"You’ll be inside my belly."

With a booming laugh, he cracked the reins.

The grotesque beasts surged forward, dragging the colossal chariot back toward the Rakshasa encampment until both master and beasts disappeared into the evening mist.

Ashwatthama watched him leave without uttering a single word.

"...."

Only after the chariot vanished did he finally sheathe his sword.

Tomorrow...

The battle would continue.

Several hours earlier...

Far from Hanuman’s battlefield...

Far from Ashwatthama’s clash with Kravyadanta...

Another hunter had finally reached his destination.

Nishithanetra stood silently upon his chariot, his crimson eyes fixed upon the enormous eagle circling above the battlefield.

"...."

The bird was no ordinary creature.

It was a construct born entirely from his Yogic energy.

Ever since Mahodanta’s death, it had relentlessly pursued the lingering spiritual signature left behind by Devaratha’s Astras.

Now...

The eagle suddenly descended.

Its cry echoed through the fog.

Nishithanetra followed its gaze.

Ahead of him lay devastation.

Hundreds of Rakshasa corpses littered the battlefield.

Some had been pierced cleanly through the chest.

Others had been burned into ash.

Still others remained frozen beneath crystalline formations left behind by divine Astras.

Across the battlefield...

Brilliant streaks of light repeatedly tore through the fog.

Golden.

Blue.

Crimson.

Silver.

Each represented another Astra launched by a single warrior.

Nishithanetra smiled finally finding the answer for his search.

"So... I’ve found you."

Without wasting another moment, he raised his massive bow.

His fingers slowly pulled back the bowstring.

Dark Yogic energy gathered around his hand.

Unlike ordinary Astras, this energy possessed neither warmth nor brilliance.

It swallowed light itself.

The darkness condensed.

Twisted.

Compressed.

Until it finally took shape.

An arrow unlike any other.

Its shaft was pitch black.

Its head was forged in the unmistakable shape of a Trishula, the three razor-sharp prongs radiating ominous energy that distorted the air around them.

Nishithanetra whispered its name.

"Trishulānveṣa Astra."

The Trident-Seeker Astra.

A relentless divine projectile that locked onto the spiritual essence of its chosen prey.

Once released, it would pursue its target without rest, altering its course endlessly until either the victim perished...

...or the Astra itself was destroyed.

There was no escaping it through speed alone.

Nishithanetra released the string.

TWANG!

The black Trident-Seeker shot forward with terrifying velocity before vanishing into the fog.

Its destination...

Devaratha.

Elsewhere...

Standing proudly atop the Vajravyaghra Rath, Devaratha continued directing the battle.

Golden Astras flew from the Pinakodanda one after another, tearing through Rakshasa formations with terrifying precision.

Then...

A familiar sensation crawled across his spine.

Danger.

Not before him.

Behind.

Without even turning around, Devaratha activated one of the Vajravyaghra Rath’s greatest abilities.

Space itself folded.

The divine chariot vanished.

Barely an instant later, it reappeared hundreds of meters away...

Directly behind Nishithanetra’s own chariot.

At almost the same moment...

The Trishulānveṣa Astra sensed that its target had shifted position.

Without slowing even slightly, the black projectile curved through the sky in an impossible arc.

It immediately reversed direction.

Now...

Its path led straight toward Nishithanetra himself.

His eyes widened.

"So it teleported..."

But Devaratha had anticipated exactly that.

The instant his chariot materialized, he had already drawn another arrow.

Golden divine energy surged through the Pinakodanda.

"Go."

The Astra erupted from the bow.

Both projectiles collided midway between the two warriors.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!

A sphere of blinding light consumed the heavens.

The Trishulānveṣa Astra shattered apart under the impact, fragments of black Yogic energy dissolving into nothingness.

The resulting shockwave exploded outward.

Nishithanetra reacted instantly.

He drove his bow into the floor of his chariot.

Ancient runes spread across its limbs before expanding into a translucent barrier surrounding both himself and the vehicle.

The shockwave slammed into it like a tidal wave.

The barrier held...

But the force behind the collision was monstrous.

The horses screamed.

The wheels carved deep trenches into the earth.

Nishithanetra’s entire chariot was pushed backward more than a hundred feet before finally grinding to a halt.

Dust slowly settled.

The protective barrier faded.

Nishithanetra lowered his bow.

Across the battlefield...

Standing atop the Vajravyaghra Rath as though he had always belonged there...

Was Devaratha.

The king calmly rested the Pinakodanda in one hand, his cloak fluttering in the wind created by the fading explosion.

Neither warrior spoke.

"...."

"...."

Nishithanetra simply stared at the man who had not only evaded an Astra designed to hunt its prey across the battlefield...

...but had turned that very attack against its creator and forced one of Pushpasura’s Twelve Battle Generals to retreat over a hundred feet with nothing more than the aftermath of a single clash.

For the first time since arriving...

Nishithanetra understood why Mahodanta had died.

Nishithanetra steadied his breathing.

The dust raised by the collision slowly drifted away, revealing the two commanders standing hundreds of feet apart.

Between them...

The battlefield itself had become strangely quiet.

Even the nearby Rakshasas and allied warriors instinctively withdrew, creating a vast empty space.

None of them wished to be caught between two archers whose arrows carried enough power to reshape the battlefield.

Nishithanetra slowly raised his massive bow.

His crimson eyes locked onto Devaratha with absolute certainty.

The air around him grew heavy as dark Yogic energy began flowing through his body, gathering around the bowstring like black flames.

His voice rolled across the battlefield.

"King Devaratha!"

"You have hunted my comrades long enough."

"You slew Mahodanta."

"You humiliated our army."

"You shattered my Trishulānveṣa Astra."

He slowly pulled back the string.

"This..."

"...is where your hunt ends."

The darkness surrounding the bow intensified.

"You shall not take another step beyond me."

"I swear upon Lord Pushpasura... that this battlefield shall become your grave."

The declaration echoed through the battlefield.

Every Rakshasa within earshot raised their weapons, believing their greatest archer was finally about to avenge Mahodanta.

Standing atop the Vajravyaghra Rath...

Devaratha simply listened.

Not once did his expression change.

Then...

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

"Heh..."

The sound wasn’t mocking.

Nor was it arrogant.

It was the laugh of a seasoned warrior who had heard a warrior who was treating him with the respect.

He slowly lifted the Pinakodanda.

Golden divine energy flowed along the ancient bow like liquid sunlight.

His eyes met Nishithanetra’s without the slightest hesitation.

"I’ve heard those words before."

His calm voice carried effortlessly across the battlefield.

"Every warrior who stood before me believed he would be the one to stop my journey."

He rested an arrow against the string.

"Yet here I stand... while they have become memories."

Nishithanetra’s eyes narrowed.

"Enough."

He had no intention of wasting time exchanging words.

The instant his fingers released the bowstring, dark Yogic energy erupted across the battlefield.

One arrow became three.

Three became ten.

Ten became dozens.

Each Astra possessed a different nature.

Some blazed with black flames that consumed even light.

Others crackled with violet lightning.

Several spun violently, creating miniature cyclones that shredded everything around them.

One froze the very moisture in the air.

Another distorted gravity itself as it travelled.

The sky seemed to disappear beneath the overwhelming barrage.

The Rakshasa soldiers erupted into cheers.

"Our General has unleashed multiple Astras at once!"

"No one can stop that!"

"He’ll erase Devaratha!"

The countless projectiles screamed toward the Vajravyaghra Rath.

Before they had even crossed half the distance...

Devaratha moved.

His hands became little more than blurs.

The string of the Pinakodanda sang continuously.

TWANG!

TWANG!

TWANG!

Each release was perfectly timed.

Each arrow carried a different divine Astra.

A golden flame met the black fire.

A bolt of celestial lightning intercepted its violet counterpart.

A Vayavyastra tore apart the approaching cyclone before it could fully form.

A radiant Surya Astra dissolved the freezing projectile into harmless mist.

Another arrow collided directly against the gravity-based Astra, causing both techniques to collapse into fragments of scattered Yogic energy.

The sky erupted into a breathtaking display.

Explosions bloomed one after another like celestial flowers.

Golden light collided with darkness.

Lightning danced across the heavens.

Fire, wind, ice and radiant energy consumed one another in an endless chain of detonations.

Each time Nishithanetra released another Astra...

Devaratha answered with one of his own.

Not a single projectile reached its destination.

Not one.

It was as though an invisible wall existed before the King of Trivenivrata.

Nishithanetra’s expression slowly changed.

His first barrage...

Stopped.

His second...

Destroyed.

His third...

Neutralized before it had travelled even halfway.

For the first time in centuries...

He encountered an opponent capable of reading every Astra the instant it was formed.

The surrounding warriors could scarcely believe what they were witnessing.

It wasn’t merely a duel of archers.

It was a contest of knowledge.

Every Astra represented decades of discipline.

Every counter revealed an equally profound understanding of divine warfare.

The heavens themselves had become a battlefield.

Neither warrior advanced.

Neither retreated.

Standing upon their respective chariots, they exchanged Astra after Astra with frightening precision, each counter arriving at the exact moment required to erase the other’s attack.

Watching from afar, veteran warriors from both armies unconsciously held their breath.

One Rakshasa captain whispered in disbelief,

"This isn’t archery... it’s two warriors rewriting the battlefield with every arrow they release."

And still...

The exchange continued.

Neither Devaratha...

Nor Nishithanetra...

Had yet revealed the full extent of their true strength.

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(Author note:)

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