Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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

Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...

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For several long moments, neither Devaratha nor Pushpasura made the first move.

The battlefield had fallen eerily silent.

The deafening clashes of steel,

The explosions of Astras and the cries of thousands of warriors seemed to fade into the background as every pair of eyes near by to witness it instinctively turned toward the two figures standing at the center of Malikavana.

Even the winds appeared to slow, as though nature itself understood that a confrontation between two kings was about to begin.

A cruel smile slowly spread across Pushpasura’s face.

"...."

Without uttering a single word, he raised his right arm.

Dark crimson veins immediately surged beneath his skin before the flesh began to writhe unnaturally.

Bones shifted with sickening sounds as the entire forearm rapidly changed shape, becoming broader, heavier and far more monstrous.

Within moments, his arm had completely transformed into a gigantic battle axe, its obsidian blade lined with jagged crimson edges that pulsed with corrupt Yogic energy.

The surrounding Rakshasas erupted into excited roars.

Pushpasura didn’t hesitate.

With a single motion, he swung the monstrous weapon downward.

Slash!

The axe severed itself cleanly from his arm.

Before it could even touch the ground, fresh flesh erupted from the stump.

Muscles, bones and skin regenerated in the blink of an eye, forming a brand-new arm as though nothing had happened.

Pushpasura casually caught the enormous axe by its handle and rested it upon his shoulder.

His crimson eyes locked onto Devaratha.

"So..."

He said, his deep voice echoing across the battlefield.

"You are going to pay for all the troubles you have caused me... so much inconvenience."

He slowly lowered the axe, its blade carving a long trench across the earth.

"I have no interest in another contest of Astras."

His grin widened.

"Come."

He pointed the axe directly at Devaratha.

"Fight me as a warrior."

"Leave that bow behind."

"Or..."

His smile became openly mocking,

"...are you another coward who hides behind divine arrows because he fears standing before his enemy?"

The insult echoed across the silent battlefield.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Many Rakshasas burst into laughter.

Several human soldiers clenched their fists in anger.

Everyone waited to see how the King of Trivenivrata would respond.

For a heartbeat...

Nothing happened.

Then...

Devaratha laughed. It wasn’t an angry laugh.

Nor was it forced. It was genuine.

A calm, amused laugh that made Pushpasura’s smile gradually disappear.

"Hahaha..."

Devaratha slowly shook his head as though he had just heard the most ridiculous thing imaginable.

His laughter continued for several more moments before he finally looked toward the Rakshasa King.

The warmth he had shown Nishithanetra earlier was nowhere to be found.

When he had faced the Rakshasa General, he had seen a disciplined warrior who fought with conviction.

Even as enemies, there had been mutual respect between them.

But now...

As Devaratha looked at Pushpasura...

There wasn’t the slightest trace of admiration in his eyes.

Only amusement.

He looked at the self-proclaimed god before him the way a wise man might look at a fool loudly proclaiming himself the greatest scholar in the world.

"You truly believe provoking me with childish taunts will achieve something?"

Devaratha asked, unable to suppress another chuckle.

-Chuckle!

"I was beginning to wonder how someone managed to unite so many Rakshasas beneath one banner."

He sighed dramatically.

"But now I understand."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"It wasn’t wisdom. It certainly wasn’t honor."

He tilted his head slightly.

"It was simply that they found someone louder than themselves."

Several nearby Rakshasas stiffened.

Pushpasura’s smile vanished completely.

"...."

The veins across his forehead bulged.

Devaratha continued speaking as though he hadn’t noticed.

"I gave Nishithanetra the respect due to a true warrior because he earned it."

His gaze slowly swept over Pushpasura from head to toe.

"As for you..."

He paused deliberately.

"I find it rather difficult to treat an idiot with the same courtesy."

Silence. Absolute silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The insult landed far harder than any weapon.

Pushpasura’s fingers tightened around the handle of his axe until the metal groaned beneath the pressure.

His jaw clenched.

The muscles across his face twitched violently.

Crimson veins spread across his neck as murderous intent exploded from his body in suffocating waves.

For the first time since emerging from beneath the earth...

The King of the Rakshasas was no longer smiling.

He was seething.

His teeth ground together with an audible crack, and his burning crimson eyes never left Devaratha for even a single moment.

The warriors watching from both armies instinctively retreated another step.

Everyone could sense it.

The exchange of words had ended.

A faint smile lingered on Devara’s face as he slowly turned his head toward the Vajravyaghra Rath beneath his feet.

The four celestial saber-toothed tigers remained perfectly still, their golden eyes fixed upon the Rakshasa King, ready to charge at a single command.

Instead...

Their master calmly stepped down from the divine chariot.

His boots touched the scarred battlefield with a soft thud.

The moment he stood upon the earth, he slowly raised the Pinakodanda before him.

The magnificent bow that had dominated the battlefield moments ago shimmered with golden Yogic energy before dissolving into countless particles of light, disappearing as though it had never existed.

Pushpasura watched every movement with narrowed eyes.

"So..."

A cruel grin slowly spread across his face.

"You finally found your courage."

Devaratha ignored him completely.

Instead, he simply extended his right hand toward the empty air.

For a brief moment...

Nothing happened.

Then the atmosphere itself trembled.

A violent crimson aura erupted several hundred feet away before shooting across the battlefield like a falling comet.

The surrounding warriors instinctively threw themselves aside as the object tore through the air with terrifying speed.

THOOOOM!!

The colossal battle axe embedded itself into Devaratha’s waiting palm with such force that the surrounding earth cracked beneath his feet.

Rudhirabhra.

The divine axe had answered its master’s call.

Its crimson blade shimmered brilliantly, as though the weapon itself had sensed Devaratha’s unwavering intent to engage in close combat.

Ancient runes engraved along its handle gradually ignited one after another, while an overwhelming divine aura spread across the battlefield.

Devaratha’s fingers tightened around the handle.

At the opposite end of the battlefield...

Pushpasura slowly lowered his own monstrous axe.

Neither warrior uttered another word.

Words had fulfilled their purpose.

Now...

Only steel would speak.

Almost simultaneously...

Both kings moved.

BOOM!!

The earth beneath their feet exploded.

Devaratha launched forward with the momentum of a divine meteor, every step leaving shattered ground in his wake.

Pushpasura answered with equal ferocity, charging straight ahead like an enraged beast, his gigantic axe dragging sparks across the battlefield before rising into position.

Neither attempted to evade.

Neither attempted deception.

They intended to settle the opening exchange through absolute force.

The distance between them disappeared almost instantly.

A thunderous battle cry escaped both warriors as they surged toward one another.

At precisely the same moment...

Both leaped.

Despite standing barely half of Devaratha’s height,

Pushpasura displayed astonishing physical strength.

His smaller frame exploded upward with unbelievable speed, allowing him to meet Devaratha in mid-air without yielding even an inch.

For a heartbeat...

The two kings hung suspended above the battlefield.

Then...

Both swung their axes.

KRAAAAAAAANG!!

Rudhirabhra collided with Pushpasura’s monstrous axe.

The impact produced a deafening metallic roar that echoed across Malikavana.

A visible sonic wave erupted from the point of collision, sweeping across the battlefield like an invisible tidal wave.

Soldiers from both armies staggered backward, banners snapped violently, and countless nearby trees bent beneath the tremendous pressure.

Even while suspended in the air, neither warrior was pushed back.

Their strength was so perfectly matched that both held their balance against the overwhelming recoil.

Only after the clash separated them did gravity reclaim its hold.

Both landed upon the battlefield almost simultaneously.

BOOM!

The earth fractured beneath their feet.

Neither paused.

The instant their boots touched the ground, they charged once more.

Pushpasura moved first.

With a savage roar, he swung his enormous axe in a brutal horizontal arc, aiming to cleave through Devaratha’s left side before he could react.

Devaratha’s eyes calmly followed the incoming blade.

Just before the axe reached him...

He sprang lightly upward.

The obsidian weapon passed harmlessly beneath his feet, carving a deep trench through the earth instead.

Still airborne, Devaratha twisted his body with flawless precision.

Rudhirabhra descended.

A crimson arc flashed across the battlefield.

SHING!

The divine axe sliced cleanly through Pushpasura’s neck.

For an instant...

The Rakshasa King’s head separated completely from his body.

Gasps echoed from both armies.

His severed head spun through the air while his towering body remained standing where it was.

Then...

Something impossible happened.

Before the head could even strike the ground, strands of dark flesh erupted from both the neck and the severed head.

They stretched toward one another with unnatural speed before reconnecting instantly.

The cut vanished.

Bone fused.

Muscle knitted together.

Skin sealed itself without leaving behind even the faintest scar.

Within a single heartbeat...

Pushpasura stood whole once again, as though Devaratha’s attack had never landed.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The battlefield fell silent.

Pushpasura slowly rolled his neck from side to side.

Crack... Crack...

Then he looked directly at Devaratha.

A wide grin spread across his face.

Moments later...

That grin became laughter.

Deep.

Mocking.

Unrestrained laughter echoed throughout Malikavana.

"Hahahahaha!"

"I told you..."

He spread both arms wide, inviting another attack.

"It doesn’t matter how many times you cut me down."

His crimson eyes gleamed with absolute confidence.

"The boon granted to me is not something a mere weapon can overcome."

He rested the axe upon his shoulder once more, the smile on his face growing even wider.

"So tell me, King of Trivenivrata..."

His voice dripped with arrogance.

"...how exactly do you intend to kill someone who simply refuses to die for straight 100 days?"

Pushpasura’s laughter continued to echo across Malikavana, filling the battlefield with an arrogance born from absolute confidence.

He spread his arms as though inviting another strike, the wound on his neck having disappeared so completely that no trace remained of the blow Devaratha had landed only moments ago.

"So?"

Pushpasura sneered.

"How exactly do you intend to kill someone who simply refuses to die?"

His crimson eyes gleamed with mockery, convinced that his boon had already decided the outcome of their battle.

Devaratha, however, simply chuckled.

It wasn’t the laughter of a man whose hopes had been crushed.

It was the amused chuckle of someone who had just been presented with a very interesting challenge.

He slowly rested Rudhirabhra upon his shoulder, meeting Pushpasura’s gaze without the slightest hint of concern.

"You seem to have misunderstood something."

Pushpasura’s smile faltered slightly.

"I never said I intended to kill you today."

The Rakshasa King frowned.

Devaratha’s smile widened.

"For the past days, I have been wondering how I should spend my time while waiting for the true battle to begin."

He looked Pushpasura up and down before letting out another soft laugh.

"But now..."

He lightly tapped the blade of Rudhirabhra with his fingers.

"...it appears fate has answered that question for me."

A mischievous glint flashed through his eyes.

"I’ve found a rather durable dummy."

The surrounding warriors blinked.

Pushpasura’s expression slowly darkened.

Devaratha continued as though he were discussing the weather.

"For the next hundred days..."

He casually pointed the axe toward the Rakshasa King.

"...I’ll simply use you to practice."

Another chuckle escaped him.

"After all, a training dummy that immediately repairs itself after every strike is an exceptionally rare treasure."

Silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The insult hung over the battlefield for a heartbeat.

Then the Rakshasa King’s face twisted with fury.

The veins across his forehead bulged violently.

His grip around the axe tightened until the handle groaned beneath the pressure.

"...You..."

His voice trembled with barely restrained rage.

"You dare compare me..."

Dark Yogic energy erupted around his body in violent waves.

"...to a practice dummy?"

His murderous aura exploded across the battlefield with such intensity that even nearby Rakshasas instinctively retreated.

Devaratha merely smiled.

"I’ve seen sturdier wooden posts."

That single sentence was enough.

Pushpasura roared, his voice shaking the very heavens as he raised his monstrous axe.

At the exact same moment, Devaratha lowered his stance, Rudhirabhra humming with divine energy as he prepared to meet the charge head-on.

The earth beneath both kings cracked.

Their muscles tensed.

In another heartbeat, they would collide once again.

Then...

VOOOOOOOOM!!

The deep, resonating sound of a conch shell rolled across the entirety of Malikavana.

A second answered it.

Then a third.

Within moments, conches from both the allied army and the Rakshasa forces echoed across the battlefield, their solemn notes carrying over every clash still taking place.

Almost instinctively, warriors on both sides halted their attacks.

Devaratha and Pushpasura remained exactly where they stood, neither lowering their weapons nor taking their eyes off one another.

Slowly...

Both glanced toward the western horizon.

The blazing sun had already touched the edge of the mountains.

Its final rays painted the battlefield in crimson and gold before gradually disappearing beyond the horizon.

Night...

Had arrived.

According to the vedhas of Dharma that governed warfare, battle ceased with the setting of the sun.

Even a conflict as catastrophic as the War of Malikavana was bound by that sacred tradition.

Neither army moved.

Neither king spoke.

For several long moments, the battlefield remained frozen beneath the fading light of dusk.

Finally, Devaratha straightened his posture and rested Rudhirabhra upon his shoulder and spoke calmly.

"It seems, our conversation will have to wait until tomorrow."

Pushpasura’s crimson eyes remained locked onto him, the fury within them no less intense than before.

"You’ve been granted one more night to breathe," he growled.

Devaratha simply smiled.

"Or perhaps..."

He turned toward his Vajravyaghra Rath, the four celestial saber-toothed tigers already waiting for their master.

"...it’s you who should make good use of it."

Without another word, he walked back toward his divine chariot.

Behind him, Pushpasura watched in absolute silence, his murderous gaze never leaving the King of Trivenivrata until the distance finally separated them.

Thus...

As the last light of the first sunset faded from the skies above Malikavana...

The conches announced the conclusion of the opening day of the great war.

The first day had come to an end.

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(Author note:)

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