Mahabharat: Shiva's Last Variable

(A/N):

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

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The morning air over Malikavana had become unusually heavy.

Neither side had moved even after taking their positions.

Thousands upon thousands of warriors stood facing one another across the scarred battlefield, their weapons ready, their eyes fixed upon the enemy before them.

At the very front...

Bhishma Pitamaha stood like an unshakable mountain.

His great bow rested calmly in his hand, yet the pressure radiating from his presence alone was enough to make even seasoned warriors hesitate before taking another step.

Across from him...

Pushpasura stood upon his monstrous chariot, surrounded by the few generals who still remained alive after a hundred days of relentless warfare.

Neither side spoke for several moments.

Then Pushpasura broke the silence.

His booming laughter echoed across the battlefield.

"So..."

He spread both arms dramatically.

"Is this truly your answer?"

His crimson eyes slowly swept across the allied army before finally settling upon Bhishma.

"You’ve replaced one mortal with another."

"I almost feel insulted."

The remaining Rakshasa generals joined in the laughter.

One of them pointed towards the enormous crater still covered by the thick black throne-like vines.

"Perhaps your king has decided that the Bhumi¹ is a safer place than this battlefield."

Another smirked.

"If he’s frightened, tell him he may stay there forever."

More laughter followed.

Pushpasura rested both hands upon the hilt of his massive sword.

"I gave him one hundred days."

"One hundred days to struggle."

"One hundred days to entertain me."

"And in the end..."

He pointed towards the sealed crater.

"...he crawled beneath the earth."

"What a fitting end."

Bhishma neither frowned nor smiled.

His expression remained perfectly calm.

"You speak too early."

Pushpasura chuckled.

"Oh?"

"You still believe he’s alive?"

"I don’t merely believe."

Bhishma answered without the slightest hesitation.

"I know."

The certainty in his voice caused Pushpasura’s smile to falter for the briefest moment.

Bhishma continued wit confidence in his voice.

"My younger brother has never once failed to stand back up."

"He has been wounded."

"He has been pushed beyond every limit."

"He has carried burdens no king should ever have to bear."

"And every single time... He rose again."

His sharp gaze met Pushpasura’s crimson eyes.

"So why should today be any different?"

Pushpasura stared at him for several moments.

Then...

He burst into even louder laughter.

The Rakshasa army quickly followed.

The entire battlefield echoed with cruel amusement.

"Listen to yourselves!"

Pushpasura shouted while laughing.

"Your king is buried beneath hundreds of feet of earth!"

"My roots have wrapped around every part of his body!"

"His mind has long since drowned inside my illusion!"

"And yet..."

He wiped away an imaginary tear.

"...you still believe he’ll climb out of that hole?"

He looked towards the allied army with open mockery.

"Hope truly does make mortals foolish."

None of the allied commanders answered.

Hanuman remained silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Karna stood with his arms folded.

Ashwatthama’s hand rested upon the hilt of his sword.

Lord Parashurama quietly closed his eyes.

Not one among them showed even the slightest trace of doubt.

That unwavering confidence slowly began irritating Pushpasura.

"What?"

he growled feeling their un breaking confidence.

"Has every one of you lost your minds?"

Bhishma calmly replied.

"No. We simply trust him."

Those four words alone made Pushpasura’s smile disappear completely.

For a brief moment...

The battlefield became silent.

"...."

Then...

VOOOOOOOOOOM!!

The sacred conches of both armies echoed together.

The deep sound rolled across Malikavana like thunder.

The one hundred and first day of the war...

Had officially begun.

The soldiers tightened their grips upon their weapons.

Commanders prepared to issue their orders.

Chariots slowly began moving.

Then...

The earth shook.

At first...

It was barely noticeable.

A faint vibration beneath everyone’s feet.

Several soldiers frowned.

Then the tremor grew stronger.

Rumble...

Rumble...

The ground beneath the battlefield violently quivered.

Loose stones began jumping across the earth.

Broken weapons lying abandoned from previous battles rattled loudly.

War elephants became restless.

The monstrous beasts pulling Pushpasura’s chariot let out uneasy growls.

Even Bhishma’s horses instinctively stepped backward.

Within moments...

The tremor transformed into a full earthquake.

The battlefield itself seemed to roar.

Massive cracks spread through the earth.

Dust rose into the sky.

Thousands of soldiers struggled to maintain their balance.

"What is happening?"

"An earthquake?"

"No..."

Someone shouted.

"It is coming from the crater!"

Every eye immediately turned.

The enormous prison of black thorn-covered vines surrounding the crater had begun changing.

One after another...

Crimson lines appeared across the vines.

Then...

Golden fire ignited.

Not ordinary flames.

Brilliant golden flames erupted from within the black vines themselves.

The fire spread with frightening speed.

Every root. Every thorn. Every twisted branch.

Within only seconds...

The entire prison had become a towering pillar of burning golden light.

The vines writhed violently.

They twisted desperately as though they were alive.

As though they were trying to escape something far more terrifying than themselves.

Then...

They began burning away.

Not slowly. Not piece by piece.

They were consumed completely.

Reduced to glowing ash before everyone’s eyes.

The entire battlefield fell silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Not a single warrior moved. Not a single commander spoke.

Even Pushpasura unconsciously narrowed his eyes.

Then... It came.

...Haa...

A single breath. Deep. Heavy.

It echoed from somewhere beneath the burning crater.

No one could see who had breathed.

Yet everyone heard it.

It wasn’t merely a sound.

It carried overwhelming pressure.

As though something that had remained dormant for far too long had finally awakened.

Another breath followed.

...Haaa...

This time louder.

The sound reverberated across the battlefield.

Every soldier felt the tiny hairs on the back of their neck rise.

Several Rakshasas instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons.

Some unconsciously took a step backward.

Even the surviving Rakshasa generals exchanged uneasy glances.

They could not explain it.

The breathing alone...

Made their instincts scream.

A cold chill slowly travelled down their spines.

Pushpasura’s confident smile had completely disappeared.

His crimson eyes remained fixed upon the burning crater.

"...Impossible."

he muttered.

"I buried him. I watched him sink beneath the earth."

"I felt my roots bind his body."

"He shouldn’t..."

Before he could finish...

Another breath echoed.

This time...

It sounded less like exhaustion.

And more like restrained fury.

The golden flames suddenly surged toward the sky.

The earth split apart with a deafening roar.

Something... Or rather... Someone...

Was walking upward from beneath the earth.

The entire battlefield remained frozen.

No one moved.

No one even dared to breathe loudly.

Every eye remained fixed upon the towering pillar of golden fire rising from the depths of the crater.

The black thorned vines that had imprisoned Devaratha for an entire day had completely disappeared.

Not a single trace of them remained.

Only the blazing inferno continued burning.

Then...

A sound echoed from within the flames.

...Tak...

A single footstep.

It was neither hurried nor heavy.

Just one deliberate step.

The battlefield remained silent.

Then another.

Tak...

Another followed.

Tak...

Tak...

Someone... Was walking.

Every step echoed unnaturally across the battlefield, as though the earth itself was carrying the sound far beyond its natural reach.

Then...

A different sound accompanied the footsteps.

Klang...

Metal striking metal.

Klang... Klang...

It wasn’t the sound of armour.

Nor was it the sound of weapons.

It was... Iron chains. Heavy ones.

With every step...

The chains struck against one another.

KLANG...

KLANG...

The metallic echoes slowly grew louder.

It sounded as though someone whose entire body was wrapped in countless iron chains was calmly making his way through the sea of flames.

The strange rhythm of footsteps and chains echoed together.

Tak...

KLANG...

Tak...

KLANG...

The sound alone caused an uneasy silence to spread across both armies.

Several Rakshasa soldiers instinctively tightened their grip on their weapons.

Others slowly looked towards one another.

No one spoke. No one needed to.

Their instincts had already begun warning them.

Something... Was wrong. Very wrong.

Then...

Without any warning...

The pillar of golden fire erupted upward.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!!

The flames pierced the heavens like a divine spear.

The force of the eruption tore through the clouds high above Malikavana.

The peaceful morning sky instantly split apart.

Clouds that had peacefully floated overhead were violently pushed away from the centre of the pillar, creating an enormous circular opening directly above the battlefield.

The clouds continued moving.

Slowly...

Then faster.

They began revolving around the pillar of fire.

Round and round.

Like an enormous celestial wheel turning above the battlefield.

The winds suddenly changed.

Cold air swept across Malikavana with frightening speed.

The bright morning gradually disappeared.

Dark clouds gathered from every direction, swallowing the sunlight.

Within moments...

Daylight itself seemed to fade.

The battlefield was now illuminated only by the towering golden pillar reaching into the heavens.

A deep rumble rolled across the sky.

Rrrrummmble...

Another followed.

Louder. Closer.

The rotating clouds flashed brilliantly.

CRACK!!

A bolt of lightning tore across the heavens.

Then another.

BOOOOM!!

Thunder exploded so violently that countless soldiers instinctively flinched.

The sky had become restless.

Lightning continued dancing across the revolving clouds.

Each flash briefly illuminated the battlefield before darkness reclaimed it once again.

Another bolt descended.

Then another.

The heavens roared continuously, as though the very atmosphere had become unstable.

Hanuman slowly raised his eyes towards the heavens.

Karna quietly narrowed his gaze.

Even Bhishma’s calm expression became slightly more serious.

Pushpasura continued staring into the flames without blinking.

Then...

The first drop of rain fell.

A single drop landed upon the scorched battlefield.

Then another. Then another.

Within moments...

The heavens opened.

Heavy rain poured from the dark clouds.

Not a gentle drizzle.

A torrential downpour.

Sheets of rain crashed against the battlefield, soaking soldiers from both armies within seconds.

The dry earth greedily absorbed the water.

Dust disappeared.

The smell of rain spread through Malikavana.

Yet...

Something about it felt unusual.

The rain wasn’t extinguishing the golden flames.

Despite the relentless downpour...

The fire continued burning just as fiercely as before.

Not even a single spark diminished.

The strange sight left everyone speechless.

The heavens continued pouring rain without pause.

It was almost as though nature itself understood.

As though the earth... The sky... The wind...

And the rain...

Had all gathered together for one purpose.

To calm the fury of the one who was slowly emerging from within those flames.

Another footstep echoed.

Tak...

The chains answered.

KLANG...

Another.

Tak... KLANG...

The rhythm never changed.

Steady. Measured. Unhurried.

Every step somehow felt heavier than the last.

Not because of physical weight.

But because each footstep carried an invisible pressure that settled upon every heart present on the battlefield.

Several younger Rakshasa soldiers unknowingly began stepping backwards.

One swallowed nervously.

"W-Why..."

"...why do I feel like running?"

Another gripped his spear so tightly that his hands began shaking.

"I... I can’t explain it."

"It feels..."

His voice faltered.

"...like something ancient is walking towards us."

One of the surviving Rakshasa generals shouted angrily.

"Stand your ground!"

Yet...

Even his own voice lacked the confidence it had carried only moments earlier.

Because even he... Could hear it.

Those footsteps. Those chains.

Every sound seemed to strike directly against their minds rather than merely their ears.

Pushpasura slowly clenched his fists.

The rain flowed down his face.

His crimson eyes never left the pillar of fire.

For the first time since the war had begun...

An unfamiliar emotion quietly surfaced within his heart.

Not fear. Not yet.

But something dangerously close to it.

Meanwhile...

Lord Parashurama slowly smiled.

Bhishma lowered his bow slightly.

Hanuman folded both hands before his chest.

Karna’s lips curved into a faint smile.

Ashwatthama let out the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

None of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

The footsteps alone had already told them everything.

Their king...

Had awakened.

And with every step he took toward the surface...

The one hundred days of humiliation, suffering, and endurance seemed to echo through the battlefield itself.

The storm above continued to rage.

The rain refused to stop.

The thunder roared without rest.

As though even the heavens were silently declaring...

The guardian had returned.

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(Author note:)

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