Chapter 443 - 411: Half A Day Defeat...

(A/N):

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

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After all, his guru had taught him since childhood.

He had guided him through the difficult years following his father’s death, when nobles had attempted to seize the throne and turn the young prince into a puppet.

The guru had been one of the few people whose counsel Vrishasena had trusted.

And now, looking at Devara, he remembered another particular warning.

One day, that man will challenge everything we have preserved.

If he is allowed to continue, other kings will follow his example.

The consequences will not be limited to his kingdom.

Vrishasena’s jaw tightened.

"So this is the man who thinks he can lecture the world about righteousness," he muttered.

His gaze shifted towards the ocean-blue vortex.

"Who thinks he can decide which traditions should remain and which should be discarded."

Another enormous weapon descended towards his formation.

Vrishasena immediately raised his bow, invoking another astra to intercept it.

The resulting collision sent a shockwave across the battlefield, shaking his chariot and forcing the horses pulling it to stumble.

He barely maintained his balance.

Yet even after destroying that attack, the ocean-blue vortex continued to release more weapons.

Vrishasena looked at Devara again.

The man had not even moved from his position.

A bitter expression spread across the king’s face.

He had spent his entire life ensuring that nobody would ever be able to challenge his authority.

He had executed those who conspired against him, strengthened his army, and established his rule through sheer determination.

He had made certain that no one would ever mistake his youth for weakness.

And now, before an entire battlefield, another king was steadily dismantling everything he had brought into this war.

"Your Majesty!" another commander shouted.

"We cannot hold this position much longer! We need to withdraw our forces before the remaining formations are destroyed!"

"Withdraw?"

Vrishasena snapped, turning towards him.

"You are asking me to retreat?"

"Your Majesty, our soldiers are suffering heavy casualties. We must reorganise before—"

"Enough!"

The commander fell silent.

Vrishasena looked towards the allied army once more.

He could see the blue radiance illuminating their ranks, the soldiers advancing beneath the protection of Devara’s astra, and the commanders who were steadily defeating his own warriors.

His teeth ground together.

He would not retreat.

Not before that man.

Not before the very king whom his guru had described as an enemy of their traditions.

Vrishasena raised his bow again, gathering whatever remaining strength he could muster.

"If Devara believes he can defeat Vrishabhapura with his divine weapons, then let him try," he declared.

The golden light surrounding his Narayana Astra flickered once more.

And above the battlefield, the ocean-blue vortex continued to grow.

By the time half a day had passed since the first conch had sounded, the battlefield had become almost unrecognisable.

What had begun as a confrontation between two enormous armies had gradually turned into a devastating defeat for Vrishabhapura.

Its once-impressive formations had been shattered, its banners lay scattered across the bloodstained ground, and countless chariots had been reduced to burning wreckage.

The soldiers who had initially charged with confidence were now either retreating, surrendering, or struggling to regroup under the protection of their remaining commanders.

More than half of Vrishasena’s original fighting force had been lost from the battlefield.

The surviving soldiers were scattered across different sections, their formations broken beyond immediate recovery.

Some had been captured, others had withdrawn after sustaining injuries, while many had simply been unable to continue fighting.

The allied army, though it had suffered casualties of its own, remained considerably more organised.

The difference was especially evident among the commanders.

Several of Vrishasena’s finest warriors had already been defeated by Bhishma, Drona, Karna, and Ashwatthama.

Those who remained had gradually found themselves surrounded by opposing chariots, with no effective way to break through the coordinated formations of the allied forces.

And at the centre of it all stood Vrishasena.

Or rather, he was no longer standing.

The king of Vrishabhapura was kneeling on the battlefield, one hand pressed against the ground to support his battered body.

His magnificent chariot had been destroyed during the final exchanges, its wheels shattered and its flagstaff broken.

The horses that had once pulled it were no longer there, and his bow lay a short distance away, beyond his immediate reach.

His armour was damaged, his clothes were covered in dust, and blood trickled from a wound near his forehead.

Before him stood several chariots.

Bhishma’s chariot occupied one side, with Drona, Karna, and Ashwatthama positioned nearby.

Other allied commanders had also arrived, surrounding the area and preventing the remaining Vrishabhapura warriors from approaching their king.

And at the centre stood Devara’s Vajravyaghra Rath.

The four enormous divine sabertooth tigers stood calmly before it, their massive bodies appearing almost untouched by the chaos surrounding them.

Devara remained in his chariot, holding Pinakodanda in one hand.

The ocean-blue radiance that had dominated the heavens had finally begun to fade, and the two Narayana Astras were no longer visible above the battlefield.

The divine confrontation was over.

Vrishasena slowly lifted his head.

His eyes settled on Devara.

For several moments, neither king spoke.

Vrishasena looked around, taking in the scene before him.

The commanders who had once stood proudly beside him were now defeated or captured.

Only a handful of his senior officers remained capable of fighting, and even they were in no condition to challenge the warriors surrounding them.

He had entered the battlefield believing that his army would teach Devara a lesson.

Instead, he had watched his forces crumble before him.

"Is this what you wanted?"

Vrishasena finally asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

"To bring me to my knees before your commanders?"

Devara looked down at him without immediately responding.

"No, King Vrishasena. I did not come here to bring you to your knees."

Vrishasena let out a bitter laugh.

"Then what would you call this?"

"A consequence of your decision to bring an army into my kingdom and demand that I surrender its independence."

Devara’s answer was calm, but there was no softness in it.

"You sent an Ashvamedha horse into my territory, demanded that I acknowledge your sovereignty, and ordered me to abandon the reforms that my people have chosen to embrace. When I refused, you decided that war was the answer."

Vrishasena clenched his jaw.

"You speak as though you are the only one who understands dharma."

"I have never claimed that."

"Yet you have made yourself the judge of everyone else’s traditions!"

Devara’s expression remained unchanged.

"I have made no such claim. Your kingdom is free to follow its customs. Your people are free to preserve the traditions they believe in. But you have no right to decide how my people must live, nor can you force another kingdom to follow your beliefs."

Vrishasena looked away briefly, his breathing heavy.

Devara continued.

"You called my kingdom’s reforms adharma. You accused me of corrupting society because I allowed people to study, receive medical training, and pursue knowledge without being restricted by their birth. You could have sent an envoy."

"You could have requested a discussion. Instead, you chose to bring an army to my doorstep."

His gaze briefly moved towards the scattered Vrishabhapura banners.

"And now, these are the consequences."

Vrishasena’s fingers dug into the soil.

He wanted to respond.

He wanted to tell Devara that he was wrong, that his guru had warned him about this very situation, that the prosperity of Trivenivrata did not make its king the guardian of righteousness.

But the sight before him made every argument feel hollow.

He had lost.

Not merely a formation or a skirmish, but the battle itself.

One of the remaining Vrishabhapura commanders stepped forward, his weapon lowered.

"Your Majesty..." he began hesitantly.

Vrishasena turned towards him.

The commander looked at the surrounding allied warriors before lowering his head.

"We have no remaining strength to continue fighting."

The words hung heavily in the air.

Vrishasena closed his eyes.

For the first time since ascending the throne, he found himself without an immediate answer.

Devara looked towards the commander.

"Have your soldiers been gathered?"

"Most of the surviving formations have been secured, Maharaja. Our men are collecting the wounded from both sides. Some of the Vrishabhapura soldiers have already surrendered."

"Then ensure that they receive the same treatment as our own wounded. Have the healers attend to them, and make certain that those who are capable of travelling are not forced to remain on the battlefield."

"Yes, Maharaja."

Devara then looked back at Vrishasena.

"Your soldiers are no longer my enemies. They have fought under your command, and many of them have paid for decisions that were not theirs. They will be treated according to the rules agreed upon before this battle."

Vrishasena slowly raised his eyes.

He had expected mockery.

Perhaps even humiliation.

After all, Devara had every reason to make an example of the king who had threatened his kingdom and insulted his family.

But the man before him was speaking about the treatment of his defeated soldiers.

It only made Vrishasena’s humiliation more difficult to bear.

Devara finally stepped down from his chariot.

The four tigers remained beside the Vajravyaghra Rath as he approached the kneeling king.

Bhishma and Drona watched quietly, while Karna and Ashwatthama remained alert in case Vrishasena attempted something reckless.

Devara stopped a few steps away.

"King Vrishasena, the battle is over. I will not ask you to kneel any longer."

Vrishasena looked at him, his expression filled with bitterness.

"Do not pretend this is an act of kindness."

"It is not kindness. It is the end of a battle that should never have begun."

For a moment, the two kings simply stared at each other.

Then Devara extended his hand.

"Stand up, Vrishasena. We have much to discuss."

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(Author note:)

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