Chapter 442 - 410: Everything Is Useless...

(A/N):

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

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However, the senior commander’s next words caused the prince’s smile to disappear.

"His Majesty’s Narayana Astra has encountered another Narayana Astra."

The boy blinked.

"Another one?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"But how is that possible? Isn’t it a divine weapon that only a few people can possess?"

The commander glanced at the report.

"That is precisely what makes this situation so concerning. The opposing king, Devara of Trivenivrata, has manifested a Narayana Astra of his own."

The prince stared at him, unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

"King Devara?"

"Yes."

"But... Father has the Narayana Astra. His guru gave it to him. How can that man have the same weapon?"

The commander did not have an immediate answer.

Even among the experienced warriors gathered in the camp, the appearance of two Narayana Astras on the same battlefield was something few could have imagined witnessing.

The officer continued reading.

"According to the report, the opposing astra is considerably larger than His Majesty’s manifestation. It has been intercepting the weapons released by our king’s astra while simultaneously directing its own attacks towards our formations."

"Our commanders have attempted to counter the incoming weapons with their own divine astras, but they are struggling to defend the army."

A heavy silence settled over the tent.

The prince looked from one commander to another, searching their faces for some indication that the report was exaggerated.

"Wait," he said quietly.

"Are you saying Father’s Narayana Astra is losing?"

Nobody answered immediately.

"Tell me!" the boy insisted.

The senior commander finally knelt slightly so that he was at the prince’s eye level.

"Your Highness, the two astras are still clashing in the sky. But at this moment, His Majesty’s weapon is being pushed back. The opposing astra is overwhelming it."

The boy’s hands slowly curled into fists.

"That cannot be true."

He shook his head, refusing to accept the words.

"My father is the strongest warrior in Vrishabhapura. He defeated the nobles who tried to take his throne. He defeated every enemy who challenged him. He has never lost a battle!"

"Your Highness..."

"Then how can some king from across the river defeat him?"

The commander had no answer that would satisfy the child.

Outside the tent, the distant rumbling continued.

Even from within the camp, the strange radiance illuminating the sky could be seen through the entrance.

Golden light flickered intermittently, but it was increasingly overshadowed by the immense ocean-blue glow spreading across the heavens.

The prince turned towards the entrance.

"Let me go outside. I want to see it."

"Your Highness, you must remain here."

"I said I want to see it!"

"Please understand. The battlefield is not safe."

The boy looked up at the commander, his voice becoming quieter.

"If Father’s astra is being defeated, then he might need help."

The words caught the officers off guard.

For a moment, the commander simply looked at the young prince.

He could see the fear beginning to replace the confidence that had filled the child’s face only a few moments earlier.

Yet, beneath that fear was the simple belief that a son should be beside his father whenever he was in danger.

"Your Highness,"

he said gently, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder,

"there is nothing you can do on that battlefield. Your father entrusted the kingdom to us while he fights. Our duty is to protect you and ensure that the royal family remains safe."

"But..."

"Your father would never forgive us if we allowed you to put yourself in danger."

The prince lowered his head.

For the first time that day, he did not argue.

Instead, he turned towards the sky beyond the tent entrance.

The golden and ocean-blue radiance continued to illuminate the clouds, and the distant thunder seemed to shake the very ground beneath the camp.

He had always believed that his father could overcome anything.

Even when other people spoke of powerful warriors and divine weapons, he had never doubted that Vrishasena would emerge victorious.

But now, for the first time, he was confronted with the possibility that there might be someone on the battlefield whom even his father could not easily defeat.

The battlefield had become a terrifying spectacle of divine destruction.

Above the armies, the two Narayana Astras continued their relentless clash, their respective manifestations spreading across the heavens like two opposing celestial realms.

Golden radiance poured from Vrishasena’s astra, while the ocean-blue brilliance of Devara’s weapon continued to expand, swallowing the golden light wherever the two forces collided.

Vrishasena stood in his chariot, his bow firmly held in his hands.

His eyes remained fixed on the heavens as another volley of divine weapons descended towards his army.

"VAYU ASTRA!"

He released the invocation, sending a powerful current of wind towards the incoming weapons.

The resulting gust swept across the battlefield, diverting several spears of divine energy before they could strike the soldiers below.

However, the effort barely bought them a few moments.

More weapons emerged from the golden and ocean-blue vortices, their sheer numbers making it increasingly difficult to distinguish one attack from another.

"AGNI ASTRA!"

Flames erupted from his bow, forming a blazing barrier that intercepted a cluster of descending weapons.

The impact sent waves of heat across the battlefield, forcing nearby soldiers to shield their faces.

Several weapons were destroyed, their remnants dissolving into sparks, but others broke through the barrier and struck the ground behind his chariot.

Explosions followed.

The earth trembled as the attacks tore through sections of the Vrishabhapura formation.

Chariots were overturned, shields shattered, and soldiers who had been advancing only moments earlier were forced to scatter for cover.

The commanders desperately tried to reorganise their troops, but every attempt to restore their formations was interrupted by another wave of attacks.

Vrishasena gritted his teeth.

He had never imagined that his Narayana Astra would encounter such resistance.

His guru had described it as one of the greatest divine weapons ever entrusted to a warrior.

It was an arsenal capable of overwhelming entire armies, and its destructive power was something ordinary astras could scarcely withstand.

Yet the weapon currently spreading across the heavens was doing precisely that.

His opponent’s Narayana Astra was not merely countering his attacks.

It was protecting the opposing army while directing its own weapons towards his forces.

Every time Vrishasena managed to destroy one incoming weapon, several more appeared in its place.

"Your Majesty!" one of his chariot commanders shouted, approaching through the chaos. "Our eastern formation is collapsing! We are unable to maintain our position!"

"Then reinforce it!" Vrishasena ordered.

"We have already sent two divisions, but the enemy commanders are preventing them from reaching the formation. Their warriors are coordinating their movements with remarkable precision!"

"Where are our commanders?"

"They are engaged with the enemy’s senior warriors!"

The commander pointed towards a section of the battlefield.

There, several powerful warriors from the allied forces were steadily advancing through the Vrishabhapura formations. Bhishma’s arrows struck with extraordinary precision, dismantling chariots and forcing opposing warriors to abandon their positions. Drona moved through the battlefield with the composure of a seasoned master, countering attacks and disarming anyone who attempted to obstruct his path.

Karna’s bowstring seemed almost never to rest. His arrows intercepted incoming attacks, shattered enemy weapons, and sent opposing chariot warriors retreating. Ashwatthama, meanwhile, was proving particularly difficult to contain. Every commander who attempted to challenge him found themselves struggling to match his speed and ferocity.

The situation was no better elsewhere.

Whenever a Vrishabhapura commander encountered one of the allied commanders, the engagement seemed to end in the same manner. Their opponents possessed not only considerable individual skill but also the advantage of fighting alongside warriors who understood their strengths and compensated for their weaknesses.

The allied forces were no longer merely defending their positions. They were steadily pushing forward.

"How can this be happening?" Vrishasena muttered.

He looked towards the opposing side of the battlefield.

There, amidst the ocean-blue radiance, Devara stood in his Vajravyaghra Rath. The four enormous divine sabertooth tigers pulling the chariot remained remarkably composed despite the destruction surrounding them. Devara held Pinakodanda in his hand, its bowstring still radiating a deep blue glow as he continued directing his Narayana Astra.

There was no visible panic in his expression. No desperation. No sign that he was struggling to maintain control over the divine weapon.

He simply stood there, watching the battlefield.

That sight infuriated Vrishasena more than the destruction itself.

His fingers tightened around his bow.

For a brief moment, the sounds of battle seemed to fade from his awareness. Instead, another voice echoed through his memories.

His guru.

The old man had spoken about Devara many times, and never with anything resembling respect.

That king is a threat to the established order, Vrishasena. He calls himself a reformer, but what he is doing is nothing short of an insult to the traditions preserved by our ancestors.

Vrishasena remembered the countless conversations they had shared. His guru had explained how Devara had opened the doors of education to people regardless of their birth, allowing those who had traditionally been denied such opportunities to study sacred knowledge, medicine, and the various sciences.

He has made a mockery of the duties assigned to every varna. He allows people to abandon the positions ordained for them and encourages them to pursue whatever they desire. He calls it progress, but it is the beginning of disorder.

The old man’s words had continued to influence him.

Do not mistake his prosperity for righteousness. He has the favour of powerful gods, and that has made him arrogant. He believes that his wealth, his kingdom, and his divine connections place him above the traditions that govern all other kings.

Vrishasena had believed him.

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(Author note:)

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