Chapter 246 - 244: Karna’s Aim... Lord Parashurama Anger...
(A/N):
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The blazing sun finally touched the western horizon.
Its last rays bathed Malikavana in a crimson glow,
As though the heavens themselves had been stained by the blood spilled over the previous nine days.
For a brief moment...
The battlefield stood suspended between war and peace.
Then...
BWOOOOOOOOOOO!
The sacred conches of the allied kingdoms echoed across Malikavana.
A heartbeat later...
BWOOOOOOOOOOO!
The Rakshasa conches answered.
The ancient signal was unmistakable.
The ninth day of the war had ended.
Almost instantly, both kings halted.
Pushpasura withdrew his massive sword from the latest exchange, taking several deliberate steps backward.
"...."
"...."
Across from him, Devaratha lowered the twin blades of Amba Tejas, though he never sheathed them.
The surrounding armies also ceased fighting.
Warriors lowered their weapons.
The wounded were carried away.
The battlefield, moments earlier filled with deafening clashes, settled into an eerie silence.
Pushpasura rolled his shoulders before letting out a deep laugh.
"Hahaha..."
He pointed his enormous sword toward Devaratha.
"I’ll admit it."
"You’ve entertained me far longer than any human should."
His crimson eyes burned with murderous intent.
"But tomorrow..."
A savage grin stretched across his face.
"...tomorrow your Goddess’s protection won’t save you."
"I’ll split your body apart until even your bones refuse to regenerate."
He laughed once more.
"Enjoy your final night, Devaratha. Because tomorrow... I will kill you."
Devaratha merely smiled.
There wasn’t the slightest anger upon his face.
He casually rested one of the Amba Tejas blades across his shoulder.
"Is that so?"
His voice carried quiet amusement.
"You’ve been saying ’tomorrow’ for the last several tomorrows."
He tilted his head ever so slightly.
"I’ve begun wondering whether your time has stopped moving."
A few allied soldiers failed to suppress their laughter.
Even several commanders smiled.
Pushpasura’s face darkened.
Devaratha continued.
"Still..."
He gave a small nod.
-Nod!
"I look forward to hearing the same promise again at tomorrow’s sunset."
The Rakshasa King’s knuckles whitened around his sword.
"You..."
Before he could answer... Hidden deep within the Rakshasa formation...
Shonitaksha narrowed his blood-red eyes.
"This is the moment."
He didn’t even glance toward the archer beside him.
He simply gave the faintest nod.
The Rakshasa immediately understood.
He raised his bow.
The string drew back silently.
The arrowhead aligned perfectly with the back of Devaratha’s head.
No one noticed.
Every eye remained upon the two kings exchanging words.
The archer smiled coldly.
"The war has ended... No one expects an attack now."
He released the string.
TWANG!
The arrow shot forward without a sound, racing toward the back of Devaratha’s skull.
It crossed dozens of meters in the blink of an eye.
Only halfway to its target...
A brilliant flash of gold tore across the evening sky.
SHIIIIIING!
A golden Astra descended diagonally from an entirely different direction.
Its speed dwarfed that of the Rakshasa’s arrow.
Before anyone could even comprehend what had happened...
The Astra struck.
BOOM!
The sneaking arrow exploded into splinters of wood and fragments of iron before ever coming close to Devaratha.
The golden Astra continued forward for another few metres before embedding itself into the earth directly before Devaratha’s feet.
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Devaratha slowly turned his head toward the radiant projectile lodged in the battlefield.
The golden light surrounding it flickered gently.
He studied its construction.
The way the Yogic energy had been woven around its shaft.
The unmistakable precision of the release.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
-Chuckle!
"I thought so..."
He didn’t need anyone to tell him.
He recognised that Astra immediately.
There was only one archer in the allied host whose arrows carried that unmistakable signature.
"Karna..."
he murmured with a faint smile.
"As expected."
Far across the allied formation...
Standing atop a distant ridge with his great bow already drawn once more...
Karna remained completely expressionless.
His sharp eyes never left the Rakshasa ranks.
He had followed the trajectory of the first arrow back to its source.
The guilty archer.
His fingers relaxed.
The second golden Astra left the bowstring.
Unlike the first...
This one did not intercept another arrow.
It hunted its target.
The Rakshasa archer had only enough time to widen one eye in terror.
SHIIING!
The golden Astra pierced straight through the eye he had used to take aim.
"AAAAAAARGHHHHH!!"
The Rakshasa collapsed onto the ground screaming in agony, clutching the ruined side of his face as blood poured through his fingers.
The Astra continued through, burying itself into the earth several yards behind him.
Panic erupted among the nearby Rakshasas.
Shonitaksha’s expression changed for the first time.
His pupils narrowed.
Someone...
Had detected the assassination attempt before the arrow had even reached Devaratha.
Across the battlefield, Karna slowly lowered his bow.
His calm voice carried across the evening air.
"A warrior who releases an arrow after the conches have sounded..."
His gaze settled upon the writhing Rakshasa.
"...has no right to call himself an archer."
His golden armour reflected the final light of the setting sun.
Then his eyes shifted from the injured archer...
To Shonitaksha.
For only a fleeting moment.
It was enough.
The Blood-Eyed Slayer immediately understood he should be the one who stopped his plan.
Shonitaksha’s lips slowly curled into a cruel smile.
His assassination had failed.
The unknown archer had destroyed the arrow before it reached Devaratha.
Worse...
The second Astra had blinded the Rakshasa archer who had carried out his orders.
Shonitaksha clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"So..."
he muttered under his breath.
"Some nameless hero wishes to play saviour."
He was just about to mock the warrior who had ruined his plan.
Then...
...plop.
Something warm and wet splashed against his feet.
His words stopped. The smile disappeared.
"...."
Confused, Shonitaksha lowered his head.
A few crimson droplets stained the ground before him.
Blood. His blood.
"...?"
His expression slowly stiffened. He looked downward.
Then...
His crimson eyes widened until they almost left their sockets.
An axe head...
Had emerged from the centre of his chest.
The gleaming blade protruded through his armour, dripping blood onto the earth below.
He hadn’t even seen it. He hadn’t heard it. He hadn’t felt it.
One moment... It wasn’t there.
The next... It had already pierced completely through him.
"C... cough..."
Blood spilled from his mouth.
He instinctively reached for the weapon.
His fingers wrapped around the haft.
With a roar born of desperation, he tried to pull it free.
"RAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
Nothing.
It didn’t budge even the width of a grain of sand.
Instead...
The axe trembled.
Shonitaksha frowned looking at it.
"...What?"
The next instant... The axe began moving.
Not out of his body.
Forward. Dragging him with it.
His boots gouged deep trenches through the earth as the impossible force pulled him across the battlefield.
"W... wait!"
He dug both crescent blades into the ground, attempting to anchor himself.
The blades snapped.
He clawed desperately at the earth.
His fingers tore through stone.
Still...
He continued being dragged.
The entire battlefield watched in stunned silence as one of Pushpasura’s dreaded Battle Generals was hauled helplessly across Malikavana by the weapon embedded through his own chest.
The Rakshasa soldiers instinctively stepped aside.
No one dared interfere.
Ranks parted one after another.
A path opened through the middle of the Rakshasa army.
At the end of that path...
Someone stood waiting.
One hand extended calmly before him.
His expression was utterly devoid of emotion.
His matted hair flowed behind him like a dark river.
Across his broad shoulders rested garments marked by countless years of battle and penance.
His eyes...
Burned with restrained fury.
The moment Shonitaksha was dragged within arm’s reach...
The axe suddenly flew free from his chest.
Blood erupted from the wound.
Before it could touch the ground...
The weapon spun gracefully through the air.
THOOM!
It landed perfectly in the waiting hand of its master.
The divine axe settled there as though it had never left.
Only then did the entire battlefield truly see him.
Silence. Complete silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Even Pushpasura’s grin disappeared.
Across the allied army...
Every commander instinctively straightened.
Devaratha looked toward the newcomer.
The instant his eyes fell upon the divine axe...
Recognition flashed across his face.
A smile appeared. He knew that weapon.
It was almost a twin to his own Rudhirabhra.
Only one being in all the Three Worlds wielded such an axe.
"My Guru..."
Devaratha whispered softly.
"Bhagavan Parashurama."
He immediately inclined his head in respect.
High above, the Devas also watched silently.
Because they knew.
Whenever that sage personally arrived upon a battlefield...
Someone had crossed a line that could no longer be ignored.
Shonitaksha slowly lifted his head.
Blood trickled continuously from the hole through his chest.
His breathing became ragged.
Then...
He finally looked directly at the man standing before him.
His pupils shrank.
"...Impossible..."
The figure before him...
Resembled the very existence the Rakshasas despised above all others.
There was the same overwhelming aura.
The same divine authority.
The same terrifying calm.
For a fleeting instant...
He thought Vishnu Himself had descended.
But... No.
There were differences.
This man carried neither the serenity of Narayana...
Nor His gentle smile.
Instead...
His face was carved from stone.
His gaze held only righteous wrath barely restrained beneath absolute discipline.
Every Rakshasa who met those eyes felt an instinctive chill crawl through their spine.
Parashurama slowly rested the blood-stained axe upon his shoulder.
His eyes never left Shonitaksha.
The silence surrounding him became heavier than any roar.
He did not need to ask what had happened.
He had witnessed the attempted assassination after the conches had already announced the end of battle.
To him...
That single act was enough.
A warrior who struck after the laws of Dharma had halted combat...
Had forfeited the protection of those very laws.
And from the moment Shonitaksha released that order...
He had unknowingly invited the wrath of the Sixth Avatar of Vishnu.
The battlefield fell into absolute silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Not even the evening wind dared to disturb it.
The allied warriors stood motionless.
The Rakshasa legions, who moments ago had roared with confidence, now stared in uneasy silence at the lone sage standing between the two armies.
His presence alone seemed to weigh upon the battlefield like a mountain.
Parashurama slowly lowered the blood-stained axe from his shoulder.
The blade still carried Shonitaksha’s blood.
His gaze remained fixed upon the kneeling Rakshasa General.
Shonitaksha struggled to rise, one knee planted firmly upon the ground while his hand clutched the gaping wound in his chest.
Blood continued to pour between his fingers despite his regeneration slowly repairing the damage.
For the first time in countless years...
The Blood-Eyed Slayer felt something unfamiliar.
Fear.
Not fear of death.
Fear of the man standing before him.
Parashurama finally spoke.
His voice was neither loud nor furious.
Yet it rolled across Malikavana with such authority that every warrior, whether human or Rakshasa, heard every single word as though he stood beside them.
"Shonitaksha..."
The Rakshasa General instinctively raised his head.
"You know why I stand before you."
There was no accusation in the sage’s tone.
Only certainty.
"You did not challenge your enemy in open battle."
"You did not strike while weapons crossed."
"You waited... until the sacred conches declared the day’s battle finished."
His eyes narrowed.
"And then... you ordered an arrow to be loosed from behind."
The words hung heavily over the battlefield.
No Rakshasa stepped forward to deny them.
No ally needed to explain what had happened.
Everyone had witnessed the attempt.
Parashurama took a single step forward.
The sound of his wooden sandals striking the earth echoed unnaturally far.
"Do you know why kings, sages and warriors have preserved the laws of
"So that war..."
"...does not become slaughter."
"So that when the conch is sounded..."
"...every warrior knows he may lower his weapon without fearing a blade in his back."
His grip around the axe tightened.
"You sought to poison that trust."
His voice became colder.
"And worse..."
His gaze shifted briefly toward Devaratha before returning to Shonitaksha.
"...you dared attempt it upon my disciple."
Every allied warrior instinctively straightened.
Even Pushpasura remained silent.
Only now did many Rakshasas realise why the sage’s wrath felt so personal.
Devaratha...
Was Parashurama’s disciple.
The sage continued.
"I taught him that a warrior’s strength is measured not merely by the enemies he defeats..."
"...but by the honour with which he wages war."
"And you..."
He pointed the axe toward the kneeling Rakshasa.
"...sought to answer honour with treachery."
The air itself seemed to grow heavier.
Even the sky darkened as the last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon.
Parashurama’s eyes blazed with terrifying intensity.
"Listen well..."
His voice echoed from one end of Malikavana to the other.
"Every king. Every soldier. Every commander."
"Every being who bears witness today."
He slowly raised the divine axe.
"This battlefield shall remember this moment."
His words thundered like the judgment of heaven.
"Today... You shall all witness what becomes of one who breaks the sacred laws of war."
The silence that followed was more frightening than any roar.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Neither army dared breathe.
Neither army dared move.
The Sixth Avatar of Vishnu stood with his axe in hand, and every soul upon Malikavana understood that what would happen next was no longer part of the war between Devaratha and Pushpasura.
It was the judgment of a master upon one who had abandoned Dharma itself.
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(Author note:)
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