High above Kurukshetra, a Kshetrajya flying chariot descended through the clouds on its journey home. Its passengers had expected to return with baskets of medicine and records from the Hidden Forest, but the sight below drew every scholar toward the railings in silence.
From their height, the battlefield stretched far beyond the breached Wall. Bodies covered the crimson earth between ruined structures and broken chariots, while thin columns of smoke drifted from wreckage that still burned beneath the evening sky.
Farther behind the retreating survivors, Asuras moved among the dead. Some tore armour from fallen soldiers searching for flesh beneath it, while others dragged bodies across the sand or fought over what remained.
One scholar covered her mouth with both hands while another stepped away from the railing. "What happened here?" he asked, but nobody aboard had an answer.
The chariot continued toward the damaged section of the Wall until one of the scholars pointed downward. "People," he said, drawing the others back toward the edge.
Vishishtarajya’s remaining fighters stood outside the Wall alongside soldiers wearing the colours of several other kingdoms. Most could barely remain upright, and directly between them and the breach stood a lone figure in black armour.
The Knight raised his head, and even from that distance his crimson gaze found the flying chariot. One scholar shifted uneasily beneath that attention and asked, "Why is he looking at us?"
The Knight lifted Pinaka and released the string before anyone aboard could react. "DOWN!" someone shouted as the scholars threw themselves toward the floor, but the arrow had already divided in flight.
One struck the lead winged horse directly through the eye. Blood sprayed across silver feathers as the creature screamed and folded in the air, while the second arrow tore through the other horse’s wing and sent feathers spinning behind it.
The front of the chariot dropped so violently that every passenger was thrown toward the railing. Crates ripped free from their bindings, baskets overturned, and roots, flowers and bundled herbs filled the air while the driver hauled against the reins.
The dead horse dragged beneath the harness while the wounded one beat its remaining wing in panic. Neither could slow the descent, and the broken Wall rushed toward them as the chariot began to spin.
"Hold on!" the driver shouted, wrapping the reins around one forearm as wood groaned around the scholars. A crate slammed against the railing hard enough to split it, and one wheel clipped the ruined stonework as someone screamed, "BRACE!"
The chariot struck just inside the broken section of the Wall. Wood exploded across the stones, one wheel tore free and vanished through the breach, and shattered containers sent medicinal plants and pieces of pottery through the wreckage.
Several passengers were flung clear, but green light erupted beneath them before their bodies could strike the stone. Grass forced itself through the cracks in thousands of blades, growing at impossible speed until thick beds of living green formed beneath the falling scholars.
The grass bent under their weight, absorbed the impact and slowly lifted them again. Loose herbs continued raining around them as a young man stepped through the wreckage.
Black hair framed a crystal embedded in the centre of his forehead, and the gem glowed softly while fresh grass continued spreading wherever his feet touched the ground. "Check everyone," he ordered, already looking over the fallen scholars.
"Lord Aswas..." someone breathed while pushing himself upright, but another scholar’s attention snapped toward the destroyed crates. "The Jadibuti!"
That word brought half the expedition back to its feet despite their bruises. Plants that had taken weeks to locate lay scattered among shattered containers, while sealed medicinal bundles had split open against the stones.
Aswas followed their gaze before looking through the breach toward the wounded outside. "Forget the chariot. Recover whatever medicine survived and use it."
The scholars moved immediately, gathering intact bundles and dragging damaged crates away from the wreckage. Before they could organise themselves, figures emerged through the inner passages of the Wall with weapons already drawn. This chapter is updated first at novelping . com.
Kshetrajya Siddhas appeared in numbers, the Queen-level stealth squads dispatched from Nalanda finally reaching the battlefield. They had arrived too late for the mission they had been given: the expedition had already reached the Wall on its own, only to fall from the sky into the ruins, while the battle beyond had ended in disaster.
One Siddha stared at the destroyed chariot while another looked through the breach toward the survivors outside. "What in the gods’ names happened here?"
"Questions later," their commander said. "Get the scholars and Jadibuti inside. Everyone else, help the survivors."
The group separated at once, some rushing toward the expedition while the others moved through the breach toward Herald and the wounded. Aswas remained where he was, his attention fixed on the Knight.
The Knight stared back.
Herald watched from beyond the breach as something changed in the black-armoured figure’s posture. The hesitation lasted barely a moment, but after everything the Knight had ignored and destroyed without pause, even that tiny break stood out.
His crimson eyes remained fixed upon the crystal in Aswas’s forehead.
Pain struck Herald’s temple, and the broken Wall disappeared from his sight. Evening became morning as the smell of blood and stone gave way to dry earth, wood and sunlight warming an open training yard.
Children practised beneath the morning sun inside a Gurukul while wooden weapons struck together around them. Guru Drona walked between the students with a staff in hand, correcting one stance before tapping another child’s ankle into position.
A boy stood beside him with black hair framing a crystal set into his forehead. Drona rested one hand proudly upon the boy’s shoulder and said, "My son, Aswas."
The crystal caught the sunlight as Drona continued. "Shiva blessed him at birth. As long as that crystal remains, death itself will struggle to claim him."
The memory broke apart so suddenly that Herald gasped and staggered half a step. Peril turned toward him immediately and asked, "What?"
"That’s Aswas." Herald pressed two fingers against his temple while the image of the Gurukul already began slipping away.
Peril followed his gaze toward the man standing among the spreading grass. "You know him?"
"I remember him," Herald said, fighting to hold onto Drona’s face a little longer. "Guru Drona’s son."
Peril’s eyes shifted to the crystal in Aswas’s forehead. "The one blessed by Shiva?"
Herald nodded while Aswas stepped through the broken Wall ahead of them. Living grass spread across the crimson sand beneath his feet, covering blood-darkened patches as he moved between the Knight and the exhausted survivors.
"You," Aswas said, and the Knight answered him with a name Herald had not expected. Find the original chapter at g.com.
"...Ashwatthama."
Aswas’s expression hardened. "I don’t know who you are," he said, reaching toward the sacred grasses secured at his waist, "but you won’t take another step."
The crystal in his forehead brightened as grass spread farther across Kurukshetra. Tiny flowers pushed through trampled earth, followed by leaves and medicinal herbs rising around him in hundreds of different shapes.
They circled Aswas as though caught in a wind Herald could not feel. Their leaves brushed together with a soft rustle that sounded strangely clear beneath the silence gathering near the breach.
The Knight watched without moving. "Humans..." he said before his crimson eyes returned to Aswas. "Still relying on borrowed divinity."
Aswas ignored him while the soldiers behind the breach tightened their formation and Kshetrajya’s Queen-level Siddhas spread among the wounded. Herald felt the air settle into the same unbearable stillness that always seemed to come before something broke.
FWOOSH!
Something screamed past Herald’s ear, and the Knight moved his head just a fraction too late. An arrow grazed his right arm, splitting the black armour and opening a thin line beneath it.
Metallic blood ran down the Knight’s hand until one drop slipped from his fingers and struck the crimson sand. The soldiers along the Wall seemed to forget the weapons in their hands as Herald stared at the mark.
Everything they had thrown at the Knight had failed to wound him. Now someone finally had.
The Knight looked down at his arm before turning toward the horizon, and Herald followed his gaze. A golden chariot raced across the sands toward the breach, pulled by four white horses whose hooves struck the earth in a hard, steady rhythm.
Crimson and ivory robes snapped in the desert wind aboard it. A lone archer stood upon the chariot with another arrow already resting against his bowstring.
One of the soldiers near the Wall recognised him first. "Satyaki..." he whispered, and the name travelled quickly through those standing nearby.
"Dharmarajya’s Guardian."
Across Aryavarta, no living archer was held above Satyaki. His first arrow had achieved what an entire battlefield had failed to do by making the Knight bleed.
The Knight touched the wound on his arm and examined the metallic blood left across his fingertips. A faint smile appeared beneath his helm as he raised his eyes toward the approaching chariot.
"Interesting."
Pinaka rose in his hand while Satyaki drew his bow farther across the distance between them. After everything Kurukshetra had become, the Knight was finally looking at someone differently.
Not as prey.
As an opponent.