The mist still hung thick over the plains outside Champapuri when the heavy iron gates of the military barracks were pushed open.
Karna did not ride his horse like a sightseeing prince.
He moved with power, his presence drawing every eye in the vicinity.
Behind him rode Satyajit, followed by the silent, iron formation of the thousand Kuru veterans.
The military camp of Anga was massive, built to house a full Akshauhini—a staggering force of 218,700 men, beasts, and war machines.
It was practically its own city, complete with sprawling residential areas for the families of the active soldiers, and divided into four distinct martial sectors.
But today, the air inside the camp was thick with tension.
The news of Karna’s sudden, tactical detour away from the royal palace had already spread through the ranks.
In the central command tent, the four highest-ranking commanders of the army stood waiting.
There was Adhirupa, the controller of the 21,870 heavy war chariots, a man with calculating eyes and calloused hands.
Beside him stood Vrishaketu, a towering figure who commanded the 21,870-strong elephant legion, smelling faintly of beast musk and iron.
Next was Jayavarman, the leader of the 65,610 cavalry horse group, lean and sharp-featured.
Finally, there were the two sub-commanders of the infantry, Devaka and Rudran, who jointly managed the massive ground force of 109,350 foot soldiers.
The actual supreme commander of the infantry was Viraj—the very man currently sitting in the corrupt council chamber, using his control over the infantry to lock down the city gates and enforce terror throughout Champapuri.
Karna dismounted and walked firmly into the tent.
He didn’t sit on the commander’s chair.
Instead, he stood by the central map table, looking each man directly in the eye.
He asked them about their men.
He asked about their rations, their logistics, and their past campaigns along the borders.
For an hour, Karna listened.
Adhirupa spoke like an logistics master.
Vrishaketu possessed the fierce but honesty of a frontline vanguard.
Jayavarman valued speed and mechanical precision, while Devaka and Rudran spoke with deep bitterness about how Viraj had been treating the infantrymen like personal hired muscle rather than proud soldiers of the state.
Looking at them, Karna felt a quiet certainty in his heart.
These four are trustworthy.
They were true soldiers who had been forced to watch their kingdom rot from the top down.
Suddenly, a distant, chaotic roar shattered the morning quiet.
Boom!
The tent flap burst open, and a breathless scout crashed inside, panting heavily.
“Commanders! Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Rebellion in the western sector!
Viraj’s personal faction nearly ten thousand infantrymen have taken up arms!
They heard rumors of the King’s arrival and are trying to seize the armory to lock down the capital!”
Vrishaketu spat on the dirt floor, his fist tightening violently around his heavy mace.
“Traitors.
Sire, give the order.
My elephant legion will trample them into the mud before the sun fully clears the horizon.”
Jayavarman nodded coldly, his hand resting on his sword hilt.
“My cavalry can kill them in minutes.
It’s a small, unorganized group.
We can slaughter them quickly.”
The four commanders looked at Karna, waiting for his decree.
To them, crushing an active rebellion with overwhelming, lethal force was standard military law.
Karna thought for a moment, the noise of clashing steel growing louder outside.
”No,” Karna said, his voice flat
The commanders paused, visibly confused.
”They may be Viraj’s loyal supporters,” Karna said, turning and walking out of the tent toward the open courtyard.
“But before that, they are soldiers of Anga.
They have bled for this land.
They have stood shoulder-to-shoulder with your own men in past wars.
How can you look at your brothers-in-arms and think of slaughtering them over the treason of one corrupt commander?”
”But Sire,” Devaka faltered, rushing to keep up, “if we do not stop them, they will compromise the camp!”
”I will stop them myself, without spilling the blood of anyone,” Karna said.
Karna stepped into the open field dividing the four martial sectors.
A mile away, a massive wave of ten thousand armored infantrymen was surging forward, roaring in open defiance.
Instead of calling for the divine bow Vijaya, Karna reached out and took a standard bow and a quiver of arrows from a nearby weapons rack in the outside camp.
It was a standard issue weapon, but well-crafted.
He closed his eyes. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Deep within his consciousness, he tapped into the celestial knowledge resting within his soul, chanting mantra to invoke a peaceful Astra—the Prasvapastra, the weapon of divine sleep.
In the legendary story of the past, Bhishma had almost used this very Astra in his battle against Sage Parashurama, only to be stopped by the intervention of the Rishis.
Back then, Parashurama did not possess the knowledge of the Prasvapastra.
But after that great war, the warrior-sage had undergone severe penance and learned the secret of the weapon directly from Lord Shiva.
And Karna had learned it directly from him.
A soft, ethereal golden light bloomed from Karna’s hand, bleeding into the wooden shaft of the arrow as he nocked it.
He drew the string back and released.
The arrow soared through the sky, arching gracefully over the field until it reached the airspace directly above the rampaging soldiers.
It didn’t explode violently.
Instead, it burst into a shimmering mist of golden light that rippled through the air like a gentle evening breeze.
The moment the golden light washed over the charging ten thousand, their angry roars instantly died down.
Swords slipped from suddenly numb fingers, falling onto the ground.
One by one, then by the hundreds, and finally by the thousands, the rebellious soldiers stumbled, yawned, and collapsed safely onto the grass, sinking into a deep, unbreakable, peaceful sleep.
In less than ten seconds, an entire army of ten thousand men lay completely neutralized without a single scratch on their bodies.
The four commanders stood frozen behind Karna, their jaws dropped, their weapons hanging loosely in their hands.
The remaining thousands of loyal soldiers watching from the barracks fell into a petrified, awe-struck silence.
They had heard the wild rumors of the exhibition tournament in Hastinapur.
But seeing a man casually put an entire legion to sleep with a single arrow was something that defied their human comprehension.
Vrishaketu was the first to move.
He slowly dropped to one knee, slamming his massive fist against his breastplate in a soldier’s salute.
“The army of Anga will fight to the death for you, Your Majesty.”
One by one, the other three commanders fell to their knees, followed instantly by the thousands of veterans and local troops standing in the courtyard.
Their hearts were bound by absolute awe to the man standing before them.
Karna turned back to the commanders, his expression sharp and authoritative.
“Organize the camp.
Lock up the sleeping men securely so they don’t start another rebellion when they wake up.
The rest of the vanguard…
we march into Champapuri now.
Before the dawn breaks.”