Chapter 444 - 412: Acceptance Of Defeat...

(A/N):

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Devara looked towards the heavens, where the remnants of the golden and ocean-blue radiance continued to clash.

Although the intensity of the two Narayana Astras had diminished considerably, their manifestations had not yet completely disappeared.

Even with Vrishasena’s army defeated and its remaining formations scattered, the divine weapons continued their relentless assault.

Devara turned towards the kneeling king.

"Vrishasena, withdraw your Narayana Astra."

The defeated king slowly raised his head.

"What?"

"Your Narayana Astra is still active. If you continue allowing it to release its weapons, the remaining soldiers in your army will be destroyed. The battle is already over. There is no reason to sacrifice more lives."

Vrishasena looked towards the sky.

The golden vortex was still struggling against Devara’s ocean-blue manifestation, and another cluster of weapons had begun descending towards the battlefield.

His remaining commanders were desperately attempting to intercept them, but their strength was almost exhausted.

He understood what Devara was saying.

His army had lost.

There was no possibility of turning the battle around, not with his commanders defeated and his soldiers scattered.

Even the Narayana Astra, the divine weapon he had considered his greatest advantage, had been overwhelmed.

Vrishasena slowly lowered his head.

A bitter sigh escaped his lips.

He had two choices before him.

He could refuse to surrender, continue fighting until the last of his soldiers perished, and perhaps meet his own death on the battlefield.

Or he could accept the defeat, withdraw his weapon, and preserve whatever remained of his army.

Neither choice was easy for a king who had built his entire identity around never appearing weak.

His fingers tightened against the earth.

He remembered the day he had ascended the throne as a young boy.

He remembered the nobles who had looked at him with contempt, the conspirators who had believed they could control him, and the blood that had been spilled before he finally secured his authority.

Ever since then, he had promised himself that he would never bow before anyone.

And now, he was being asked to do precisely that.

His gaze returned to Devara.

The Trivenivrata king stood patiently before him, waiting for his decision.

There was no mockery in his eyes, nor any visible eagerness to see his opponent humiliated.

That somehow made the decision even more difficult.

Vrishasena clenched his teeth.

"Very well."

He slowly rose from the ground, though his injured body protested against the movement.

One of his remaining commanders moved forward to assist him, but Vrishasena raised his hand, refusing the help.

He wanted to do this himself.

Looking towards the golden vortex, he brought his hands together and began reciting the mantra required to withdraw the Narayana Astra.

His voice was initially unsteady, but gradually regained its firmness as he continued the invocation.

The golden radiance began to tremble.

One by one, the weapons suspended within the vortex dissolved into streams of light.

The enormous formation of divine energy contracted, its brilliance fading as the mantra reached its final syllables.

For a brief moment, the golden vortex remained suspended above the battlefield.

Then it disappeared.

The sudden silence in the heavens was almost unsettling.

Vrishasena stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the empty sky.

He had barely finished withdrawing the weapon when an unfamiliar sensation passed through his mind.

He blinked.

Something was missing.

He tried recalling the mantra he had just used, but the words seemed to have slipped away from his memory.

He remembered receiving the Narayana Astra from his guru.

He remembered the instructions, the warnings, and the tremendous responsibility that accompanied the weapon.

But the mantra itself...

It was gone.

He tried to remember the first syllable.

Nothing.

His expression changed as the truth dawned upon him.

Just as his guru had warned him, the moment he used the Narayana Astra, the knowledge required to invoke it would disappear from his mind.

The divine weapon had been a gift that could only be used once in his lifetime.

He had just spent that one opportunity.

Vrishasena lowered his hands.

For a few moments, he remained silent, staring at the place where the golden vortex had disappeared.

A part of him had known this would happen, yet experiencing the loss was entirely different.

The Narayana Astra had been one of the greatest weapons he possessed.

Now, he would never be able to summon it again.

Across the battlefield, Devara watched the golden manifestation vanish.

He raised Pinakodanda slightly and recited his own invocation.

The ocean-blue vortex, which had continued protecting the allied forces while attacking Vrishasena’s army, began to contract.

Its countless weapons dissolved into streams of radiant energy, and the immense pressure that had weighed upon the battlefield gradually disappeared.

Within moments, the second Narayana Astra had also vanished.

Unlike Vrishasena, however, Devara had not lost anything.

The mantra remained firmly within his memory, as did the knowledge required to invoke the divine weapon.

His father, Lord Vishnu, had personally bestowed it upon him during his training, and the conditions attached to an ordinary recipient did not apply to that divine gift.

Devara lowered Pinakodanda.

The sky was finally clear.

Across the battlefield, soldiers from both armies looked upwards, many of them only now realising that the terrifying celestial confrontation had ended.

Some lowered their weapons in relief, while others simply stood where they were, exhausted by the events of the day.

Vrishasena noticed Devara’s weapon returning to its resting position.

"You can still use it, can’t you?" he asked.

Devara looked towards him.

"Yes."

Vrishasena’s expression hardened.

"Even after withdrawing it?"

"The restriction you experienced was part of the conditions under which your guru bestowed the astra upon you. My father gave it to me directly, with different conditions."

Vrishasena looked away.

Another bitter truth to add to the many he had already encountered that day.

He had sacrificed the only opportunity he possessed to use the Narayana Astra, while his opponent could invoke the same divine weapon again whenever necessary.

For a moment, he wondered whether his guru had known that Devara possessed it.

If he had, why had he never mentioned it? Had he underestimated the king of Trivenivrata, or had he deliberately withheld that information?

There was no answer.

Devara stepped closer.

"Vrishasena, your army has stopped fighting. You have withdrawn your astra. Let us ensure that no more lives are lost today."

The defeated king remained silent.

For the first time in many years, Vrishasena had no command to give that could change the situation before him.

He had entered the battlefield determined to make another king submit.

Instead, he had been forced to withdraw his greatest weapon, watched his army crumble, and surrendered the very advantage he had believed would secure his victory.

The war was over.

And he would have to face the consequences of his defeat.

Vrishasena stood silently for a while, his gaze moving across the battlefield.

The golden radiance of his Narayana Astra had disappeared, and with it, the last remaining possibility of turning the battle in his favour.

His soldiers were exhausted, his commanders defeated, and the formations that had once made his army appear invincible were now scattered across the field.

He slowly exhaled.

"Vrishabhapura’s army... acknowledges its defeat."

His declaration carried across the battlefield, reaching the soldiers who had gathered around their fallen commanders.

For a moment, there was silence. Then several soldiers raised their voices in protest.

"Your Majesty! We can still fight!"

"We have not surrendered!"

"Give us another opportunity, Maharaja! We will drive them back!"

Some of the surviving warriors raised their weapons, unwilling to accept that the battle had ended.

Even after witnessing the destruction of their army, their loyalty towards their king remained strong.

They had followed him into battle, and many were prepared to continue fighting regardless of the consequences.

Vrishasena’s expression darkened.

"ENOUGH!"

His thunderous shout silenced the surrounding soldiers.

He turned towards them, his eyes burning with anger.

"Have you not seen what has happened today? Look around you! Our formations are broken, our commanders have fallen, and more than half of our army has been lost from the battlefield! Do you intend to sacrifice the remaining soldiers merely because your pride refuses to accept defeat?"

Nobody answered.

"You have fought enough. Those who are still standing have done their duty. I will not order another man to die simply because I cannot accept the outcome of this battle!"

The soldiers gradually lowered their weapons. Several looked towards the ground, their faces filled with shame and disappointment.

Some clenched their fists, while others stared at the fallen banners of Vrishabhapura.

They had lost.

And their king had acknowledged it.

Meanwhile, Devara calmly stepped down from his Vajravyaghra Rath.

He handed Pinakodanda to one of his attendants before walking towards Vrishasena.

The four divine tigers remained beside the chariot, watching their master with their sharp eyes.

Bhishma, Drona, Karna, and Ashwatthama observed the two kings without interfering.

The surrounding allied commanders maintained their positions, ensuring that the defeated soldiers did not attempt anything reckless.

Devara stopped before Vrishasena.

"King Vrishasena, before we proceed with the remaining matters, I would like to ask you something."

Vrishasena raised his eyes.

"What is it?"

"Have you been informed about my pledge?"

The question made Vrishasena’s expression stiffen.

He knew precisely what Devara was referring to.

During the exchange of letters before the war, Vrishasena had allowed his words to cross a boundary that should never have been crossed.

He had insulted Devara’s wives, describing them as ornaments who encouraged their husband’s arrogance and delusions.

He had questioned their place in the kingdom and implied that they were responsible for Devara’s refusal to submit.

The response had travelled through the courts of several kingdoms.

Devara had declared that the wounds caused by those words would not heal, and that Vrishasena would lose his tongue for daring to speak about his wives in such a manner.

The defeated king slowly nodded.

"I have heard about it."

"Then you understand why I am asking."

Vrishasena’s jaw tightened.

"Are you going to carry out that threat now?"

Devara studied him for a moment.

"I gave my word that I would not allow those insults to go unanswered. You deliberately insulted my wives, not merely as queens, but as women whose dignity you believed you could disregard. I will not pretend that your defeat has erased what you said."

Vrishasena looked directly at him.

"Then do what you came to do. I have already lost my army, my weapon, and this war. If you intend to take my tongue as well, I will not beg you to spare it."

A few of the surrounding commanders exchanged glances. The statement was made with defiance, but there was exhaustion beneath it.

Devara remained quiet for a moment.

Then he spoke.

"Do not mistake me, Vrishasena. I have no intention of harming you simply because I can. But neither will I allow you to believe that becoming a defeated king absolves you of responsibility for your words."

He glanced briefly towards the allied commanders before returning his attention to Vrishasena.

"Your soldiers have surrendered. They will be treated according to the rules we agreed upon. Your wounded will receive medical attention, and your captured commanders will not be tortured. That is my responsibility as the victorious king."

He paused.

"Your responsibility begins with answering for your own actions."

Vrishasena remained silent, his eyes fixed on Devara.

For the first time, he began to realise that losing the war might have been only the beginning of the reckoning awaiting him.

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(Author note:)

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