Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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The days that followed transformed Malikavana into a battlefield unlike any seen in generations.

With Bhagavan Parashurama joining the allied forces, the momentum of the war shifted dramatically.

Every sunrise was greeted by the thunder of conches.

Every sunset witnessed funeral pyres illuminating the horizon.

And with each passing day...

The Rakshasa army paid a heavier price.

Parashurama marched through the battlefield like an unstoppable force of judgment.

There was no unnecessary display.

No triumphant roar.

Only the rhythmic movement of his divine axe.

Every swing carried terrifying precision.

A Rakshasa commander charged with a massive mace.

SHRAAK!

The axe severed both the weapon and its wielder.

Another attempted to attack from behind.

Without even turning around, Parashurama spun his axe once.

A crimson arc flashed.

The Rakshasa’s head rolled across the battlefield.

Several warriors attacked together, believing numbers could overwhelm the immortal sage.

The result...

Was only more bodies falling to the earth.

Wherever Bhagavan Parashurama walked... The Rakshasa ranks broke apart.

No formation remained intact. No commander wished to face him.

The Rakshasas had begun giving him a new title.

The Walking Calamity.

Even the bravest among them instinctively altered their course whenever the blood-covered sage appeared on the battlefield.

On the eastern wing...

Karna had taken command beside Shakuni.

Although the Mahamantri had returned to battle, the injuries he had suffered from the earlier sneak attack still limited his movements.

His reactions were slightly slower.

His stamina diminished more quickly.

Recognising this, Karna quietly positioned himself beside Shakuni’s division.

Without a single word of complaint.

Without making Shakuni feel weakened.

Whenever enemy reinforcements attempted to exploit the eastern flank...

Golden Astras rained from the heavens.

Rakshasa commanders found themselves struck down before they could even approach.

When a breach appeared... Karna was already there.

When Shakuni advanced... Karna covered every opening left by his injuries.

Their coordination gradually became flawless.

One fought upon the ground with calculated leadership.

The other ruled the skies with unmatched archery.

The eastern battlefield, which had nearly collapsed days earlier, now stood as one of the strongest sections of the allied line.

Meanwhile...

At the very heart of Malikavana...

The duel that had captured the attention of both armies continued.

Devaratha.

Against...

Pushpasura.

The shattered remnants of their spears had long since disappeared beneath countless footprints.

Now only swords ruled the battlefield.

CLANG!

Amba Tejas crossed against Pushpasura’s enormous black blade.

The collision sent shockwaves through the earth.

Neither stepped back.

Instead...

They immediately attacked again.

CLANG!

CLANG!

CLANG!

The rhythm of steel echoed endlessly.

Pushpasura’s strength continued increasing with each passing day.

His terrifying boon never ceased.

Yet...

Devaratha’s Vali Boon continuously absorbed half of Pushpasura’s physical strength, preventing the Rakshasa King from completely overwhelming him.

But even Devaratha understood the truth.

The boon only affected physical strength.

Nothing more.

Pushpasura’s other abilities...

His demonic Yogic energy.

His regeneration.

His increasingly violent aura.

The monstrous vitality flowing through his body.

Those powers continued multiplying unchecked.

Every passing day made the Rakshasa King more dangerous.

Pushpasura laughed wildly as another exchange forced both warriors apart.

"You can steal half my strength all you want, Devaratha!"

His crimson eyes gleamed with madness.

"But my true power grows far beyond muscles!"

Dark Yogic energy erupted around him like a volcanic eruption.

The earth trembled.

The roots covering his body suddenly writhed.

They were no ordinary roots.

Each resembled the root system of an ancient tree forged from black iron, covered in razor-sharp thorns capable of piercing armour.

Some burrowed beneath the earth.

Others remained above the surface.

They moved with disturbing intelligence.

Like venomous serpents awaiting an opportunity.

Devaratha narrowed his eyes.

He knew better than to focus solely upon Pushpasura’s sword.

The roots...

Were just as deadly.

Pushpasura swung his massive blade.

Devaratha crossed both swords to block.

BOOOM!

At that exact instant...

A thorn-covered root erupted from beneath the ground directly behind Devaratha.

Without even looking...

He twisted sideways.

The root shot past his shoulder by barely an inch.

Its sharp tip pierced empty air before embedding itself deep into the earth.

Another lashed toward his ankle.

Clink!

Amba Tejas flashed downward.

One twin blade severed the root cleanly.

Before the severed piece had even struck the ground...

Three more burst from different directions.

Above. Left. Behind.

Devaratha flowed between them with astonishing grace.

His movements resembled a dance perfected through countless years of discipline.

Every dodge was measured.

Every step deliberate.

The roots repeatedly tried to catch him while Pushpasura’s sword attacked from the front.

The Rakshasa King laughed louder.

"Let’s see how long you can keep dancing!"

A dozen roots erupted simultaneously.

The battlefield around them became a forest of living spears.

Devaratha’s eyes sharpened.

His twin swords whirled around him in brilliant silver arcs.

SHING!

One root was severed.

SHRAAK!

Another split apart.

He ducked beneath a horizontal strike from Pushpasura’s blade, rolled between two descending roots,

Then rose with a spinning slash that carved another three apart before leaping backward as fresh tendrils burst from beneath his previous position.

Neither warrior gained a decisive advantage.

Pushpasura fought like an ever-expanding nightmare, his sword supported by a living labyrinth of murderous roots.

Devaratha answered with the elegance of a master swordsman, his twin blades weaving an impenetrable defence while every movement remained calm, economical and precise.

From afar, both armies had once again stopped paying attention to their own battles.

Their eyes were drawn irresistibly toward the centre of Malikavana.

For there...

The clash between Dharma and darkness had become a spectacle worthy of legends.

Days of continuous combat had begun to reveal the true nature of Pushpasura’s ever-growing power.

His strength was no longer the only thing increasing.

Every demonic ability he possessed had also become noticeably more potent.

Even Devaratha, who had remained composed throughout the battle, realised the Rakshasa King was beginning to enter a new stage.

The battlefield trembled once again.

CLANG!

Amba Tejas crossed against the enormous black sword.

Sparks exploded between the two warriors.

Pushpasura suddenly grinned.

"There..."

"I’ve been waiting for this."

His crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light.

Dark Yogic energy spread from his body like invisible ripples.

Until now...

This particular ability had been almost useless.

"...."

Whenever he activated it, Devaratha’s body, sharpened senses and overwhelming vitality simply ignored its effects.

It was as though the technique did not exist.

But...

Not anymore.

After days of exponential growth...

The technique had finally become strong enough to affect him.

For the briefest instant...

The world around Devaratha slowed.

No...

It was his own body that had slowed.

His muscles suddenly felt heavier.

His sword arm no longer obeyed with its usual perfection.

It lasted...

Barely a fraction of a heartbeat.

Yet on a battlefield...

A fraction of a heartbeat was an eternity.

Pushpasura’s grin widened.

-Grin!

"I caught you."

Before Devaratha could completely shake off the strange restraint...

Pushpasura stepped in.

His enormous leg twisted at the waist.

Every ounce of his monstrous physical strength gathered into a single kick.

BOOOOOOOM!!

His foot slammed directly into Devaratha’s chest.

The impact sounded like a mountain collapsing.

Parvati Kavach immediately manifested.

A brilliant emerald radiance bloomed across Devaratha’s chest.

The divine armour absorbed the lethal force before it could shatter bones or rupture organs.

The kick...

Did not break through the Goddess’s protection.

But...

The sheer momentum behind it remained.

Like a castle wall surviving the strike of a battering ram while still shaking from the collision.

Devaratha’s body was hurled backwards.

The ground beneath his feet shattered.

He slid dozens of feet across the battlefield, carving a deep trench through the earth before finally bringing himself to a stop with one knee planted firmly on the ground.

Dust erupted around him.

The battlefield fell silent.

Pushpasura laughed triumphantly.

"Hahaha!"

"So..."

"You finally felt that."

Within the cloud of dust...

Devaratha slowly exhaled.

He looked down at his chest.

Parvati Kavach continued glowing peacefully.

Not a single crack had appeared.

No ribs were broken. No internal injuries.

No blood stained his robes.

The Goddess’s protection had fulfilled its purpose perfectly.

Yet...

A dull ache lingered throughout his body.

His muscles had absorbed the tremendous force that the Kavach had prevented from becoming fatal.

He rolled one shoulder.

The pain was unmistakable.

Not injury.

Simply the natural consequence of receiving the momentum of a blow powerful enough to launch him across the battlefield.

"So..."

Devaratha murmured quietly.

"It has finally become strong enough."

He slowly rose to his feet.

His breathing remained perfectly steady.

His eyes never left Pushpasura.

"The slowing technique... It couldn’t affect me before."

"But now ...it can delay my movements for an instant."

He tightened his grip on Amba Tejas.

"A very dangerous instant."

Pushpasura rested his sword upon his shoulder.

His smile grew wider.

"You understand now."

"My power isn’t merely increasing."

"Every blessing... Every ability I possess... They all grow stronger with me."

He pointed his sword towards Devaratha.

"And with each passing day... The gap between us grows wider."

Devaratha remained silent.

"...."

His expression did not change.

Inside his mind, however, he had already begun analysing the exchange.

’The slowing effect has crossed the threshold. It still lasts less than a heartbeat ...but that heartbeat allowed him to land a clean strike.’

’If it continues strengthening... I cannot rely on reacting after it begins.’

His eyes narrowed slightly.

’I must predict it before it activates.’

Across the battlefield, Parashurama watched the exchange from afar.

The immortal sage immediately recognised what had happened.

He neither intervened nor spoke.

But within his ancient eyes... A trace of approval appeared.

His disciple had not been injured.

He had gained something far more valuable.

Information.

And on a battlefield where every passing day revealed new abilities, understanding the enemy’s power was often the first step towards overcoming it.

The remainder of the day proved to be the most difficult Devaratha had faced since the war began.

Pushpasura had finally discovered a crack.

A tiny one.

But a crack nonetheless.

Again and again...

The Rakshasa King unleashed the strange slowing ability.

Most of the time, Devaratha managed to minimise its effects through sheer will and instinct.

Yet every now and then...

His movements slowed by the smallest fraction.

And Pushpasura never allowed such an opening to go unpunished.

BOOM!

A heavy punch slammed into Devaratha’s shoulder.

The emerald glow of Parvati Kavach absorbed the lethal force, but the impact still sent a jolt through his body.

Moments later...

A thorn-covered root burst from beneath the earth, forcing him into Pushpasura’s waiting blade.

CLANG!

Amba Tejas blocked the strike.

Before Devaratha could recover...

A knee drove into his abdomen.

Another kick struck his side.

A spinning slash grazed across the divine barrier surrounding his back.

Throughout the afternoon...

The exchanges increasingly favoured Pushpasura.

Devaratha still defended flawlessly.

He still evaded countless attacks.

But whenever he launched a counterattack...

Pushpasura had already moved.

His sword cut through nothing but empty air.

Every opening Devaratha created disappeared before he could exploit it.

Pushpasura’s growing abilities were beginning to overwhelm even his extraordinary battle instincts.

Yet...

Despite receiving blow after blow...

Devaratha never lost his footing.

Never panicked.

Never abandoned his discipline.

His eyes continued analysing every movement.

Every pulse of Yogic energy.

Every moment the slowing ability activated.

He was learning.

Even while being driven backwards.

At last...

The crimson sun descended once more.

The conches echoed across Malikavana.

BWOOOOOOOOOOO!

The allied armies lowered their weapons.

BWOOOOOOOOOOO!

The Rakshasa conches answered.

The twenty-fifth day of the war...

Had ended.

Pushpasura planted his enormous sword into the ground and threw back his head with booming laughter.

"Hahahaha!"

He pointed toward Devaratha.

"What happened?"

"The great King Devaratha couldn’t even touch me today."

His crimson eyes gleamed with arrogance.

"Your swords have become ornaments."

"You spent the entire day defending yourself."

"I wonder... How many more days before even that becomes impossible?"

He pulled his sword free.

"Tomorrow will be worse."

"The day after that even worse."

"And eventually..."

"There won’t be enough of your Goddess’s protection left to save you."

The Rakshasa army erupted into cheers.

Pushpasura smirked triumphantly.

-Smirk!

"...."

Devaratha calmly wiped a streak of dust from his shoulder.

His breathing remained steady.

Not once had frustration appeared upon his face.

Instead...

A faint sneer slowly formed.

He looked directly at Pushpasura.

"You certainly enjoy speaking."

Pushpasura’s grin widened.

Devaratha continued.

"Tell me... Who was it that possessed a boon guaranteeing he would survive one hundred days of this war?"

The smile on Pushpasura’s face faded slightly.

Devaratha spread his arms.

"And yet..."

He looked around theatrically before tapping his own chest.

"Here I stand."

He then pointed toward the setting sun.

"Today..."

"Marks the twenty-fifth day."

His eyes sharpened.

"You have spent a quarter of your guaranteed lifespan in this war."

"And despite all your boasting..."

"You are still only threatening to kill me."

The allied soldiers burst into laughter.

Even several commanders struggled to hide their smiles.

Pushpasura’s expression darkened.

Devaratha’s voice became even calmer.

"You have many powers."

"Many boons."

"And an endless supply of words."

"But after twenty-five days..."

"...your greatest achievement remains promising me what you’ll do tomorrow."

A vein bulged across Pushpasura’s forehead.

The Rakshasa King slowly lifted his sword.

His aura flared violently.

The surrounding ground cracked beneath his feet.

His voice became low.

Dangerously calm.

"Enjoy your tongue while you still possess it."

He stepped closer until only a few paces separated them.

"On the one hundred and first day..."

His crimson eyes burned with terrifying hatred.

"I will repay... Every wound. Every humiliation. Every mockery."

His grip tightened until the sword groaned.

"I will return..."

"Every single attack you have inflicted upon me."

"And when I am finished..."

"There won’t be enough left of you for your allies to recognise."

For several moments...

The two kings simply stared at one another.

"...."

"...."

Neither blinked. Neither yielded.

Then Devaratha gave a small, almost amused nod.

"I’ll be waiting."

The evening wind passed between them as both warriors turned away, each carrying a different burden into the night.

Pushpasura carried growing confidence born from his ever-increasing power.

Devaratha carried something far more dangerous.

Understanding.

For although the twenty-fifth day had belonged to the Rakshasa King...

Devara was the who got victory each passing day was the defeat of Pushpasura who can’t kill the human he despises.

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(Author note:)

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