In penance, patience is the very foundation of success.
If something feels impossible, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it is because one's tapas has not yet reached its true potency. The final time, rare and fateful, the obstacle arises not from lack of effort, but from a deeper transgression: a violation of the universe's highest law, the sacred rhythm of creation and dissolution.
"Devi," the boy said, his tone light and bright with confidence. "Undertake penance and offer your wish to Indra. The Deva protects those who walk the path of devotion. When your penance is complete, your wish will be granted."
He smiled as he spoke, proud of his advice. To him, it seemed the most natural solution in the world.
"Yes!"
Shachi's lashes fluttered, her eyes gleaming with sudden understanding. That was it. Penance. Of course.
Her face lit up with gratitude and admiration.
"Wise child," she said, bringing her palms together and raising them gently to her forehead in reverence. "Your words are like those of a rishi born with Vedic wisdom. Please, tell me your name so that I may honour you properly."
Such a clever boy, she thought. So effortlessly insightful. His parents must be blessed.
But the child only gave a modest chuckle.
"It was nothing," he said softly."No need for praise. Just walk the path with faith. Let your perseverance and devotion guide you. That is the way to fulfil any true wish."
With that, he turned away. A single hop, a light step, and he vanished into the wind, leaving only the impression of a small, chubby silhouette.
Shachi blinked. He was gone. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Maya?" She stepped forward. The ground beneath her feet was solid. The plain stretched wide and undisturbed. The wind still carried the scent of trees and distant rain.
"Such powerful illusion..." She couldn't help but whisper it aloud.
As a daughter of the Danava clan, born to the masters in the art of Maya, she prided herself on her perception. But this... even she had sensed no trick. No ripple of falsehood. Every sound, every texture, every movement had been real.
And yet, the child had vanished.
Shachi exhaled slowly. Her smile returned, softer this time.
Though she had not found the lonely ascetic today, she had been given something perhaps even greater: direction. A path forward.
Tilting her head, she let the wind comb through her hair, her lungs filling with the clean scent of the wild earth. Her gaze lingered on the sunlit clearing, now quiet once more.
"This is enough for today."
With a graceful turn, she stepped back into the wilderness, her silhouette vanishing like moonlight into the trees.
...
"Interesting..."
Vishnu's eyes softened like rippling water, and a faint smile curled at the edge of his lips, serene and radiant, like the first warmth of spring sunlight after a long winter.
This wasn't the outcome he had expected.
But it wasn't disappointing either.
Perhaps the course of events would now stretch for another thousand years, but time had never been a concern for the Preserver of Worlds. For Vishnu, a thousand years was a moment easily held in the palm of his hand.
With quiet footsteps, he moved across the forest floor. The earth beneath him teemed with life. Wildflowers bloomed in vibrant colours. The trees stretched their arms skyward. Small creatures such as rabbits, squirrels, and even chirping birds darted between roots and branches, thriving in the fertile soil of Pātāla.
Everywhere Vishnu looked, there was nature. And then his foot paused mid-step.
His gaze shifted downward, sensing a shift beneath the soil.
"Hmm?"
A murmur escaped his lips, barely audible.
"This tremor... is the fetal stirring of Pātāla itself."
His voice held a note of reverence. Something was awakening.
—
Elsewhere, near the borderlands.
Within the black-stone sanctum of the Asura Royal Palace, Vajranga sat on his iron throne. His red cloak flickered in the torchlight like liquid flame. With narrowed eyes, he looked down upon his gathered generals.
Not one of them dared meet his gaze.
They stood in a tight formation, silent and tense, expressions fixed. No one spoke, but their minds boiled with suppressed frustration.
They had reached the gates of Svarga. Victory had been in their grasp.
And then, at the last moment, they had retreated.
Some whispered it was Indra's Maya. Others blamed the Mayavi Vishnu. But none understood why Vajranga had called the march back.
Still, no one questioned him openly.
Because Vajranga had the largest fists in the realm, and when he struck, mountains shattered.
"Hmph..."
Vajranga's voice cut through the silence like thunder rolling across stone.
He knew what they were thinking. Their silence screamed with resentment. But he didn't care.
He was already preparing for the next move.
He ran his fingers along the edge of his throne, then rose slowly to his full, imposing height. His presence alone pulled every general to attention.
"We turned back because the Nakshatras spoke of ruin. The weapon I forged, powerful though it is, remained untested, and its Vastu alignment incomplete. Had we struck then, it would have crumbled under its imbalance. But now, the stars have shifted, the land is prepared, and the weapon answers only to me. When we march again, there will be no retreat."
His deep voice echoed across the chamber.
"I will retrieve the divine weapon and return with a new plan. When I do, we will strike Svarga again."
Gasps and murmurs rippled across the ranks.
"As expected of the King!"
"Victory will be ours!"
"Svarga will fall, and we'll take back our thrones!"
They believed him without hesitation.
Vajranga, after all, had never once lied to his soldiers.
"Remain here and stand ready. I will return with the power needed to end this war."
He gave a sharp nod and turned on his heel. His cloak flared behind him like blood-red fire as he strode from the temple.
"First, I'll retrieve Valani and Taraka. Then... I'll head to Father's retreat in the old forest."
Vajranga leapt into the sky, a streak of flame vanishing into the horizon.
Back in the temple, the Asura generals erupted in cheer.
"The King is back!"
"Down with Indra!"
"I miss the glory of old Svarga!"
Their roars rose into the night, echoing across the jagged cliffs of Pātāla. The war for the heavens had only paused. It had not ended.
And their King, one with fists forged of vengeance, had only just begun.
...
The hall echoed with the weight of silence, broken only by the heavy sighs of the Asura generals. Each warrior stood wrapped in thought, but none spoke openly.
Shumbha's crimson eyes slid to the side, locking onto the still figure of Arunasura. The scorched warrior stood rigid, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the floor. Shumbha tilted his head, a flicker of mischief lighting his face.
"You look like you're stewing in something more than smoke," he said, voice smooth.
Arunasure didn't respond at first. The deep burns that marked his once-glimmering emerald scales still pulsed with heat, and his chest rose and fell with barely controlled fury.
"I am not satisfied," he muttered at last, voice cold.
"Not satisfied?" Shumbha raised an eyebrow. "With what?"
Arunasura's fists clenched. "Do you know what kind of disgrace I suffered? Do you know what that brute Vajranga did to me?"
Shumbha let out a low chuckle, deliberately taunting. "Come on, Arunasura. You of all people should know. Vajranga isn't someone we can match head-on. His strength flows from the heart of Pātāla itself. None of us can stand against him."
That struck a nerve.
Arunasura's body trembled, a visible quake of rage.
"I know!" he roared. "I know I can't defeat him now! He is powerful. He is King. But does that mean I must live on my knees? Does that mean I must swallow humiliation?"
His voice rose, sharp and thunderous.
"No more! I will not endure it!"
He took a step forward, fire blazing in his eyes.
"I will cultivate my own strength. I will ascend, one breath, one step at a time. I will earn the favour of Pātāla and his denizens, just as he did. I will become stronger than Vajranga. I will be King. I will rule the Triloka!"
The Palace rang with the echoes of his declaration.
Boom.
A pulse of energy reverberated through the stone floor.
Boom. Boom.
Silent thunder cracked across the dark sky outside, as if the very laws of nature had responded.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
All eyes turned to Arunasura. Hundreds of gazes, flickering with curiosity, caution, and cold calculation, settled on him.
Arunasura's breath hitched. A chill crept down his spine.
Wait...
This wasn't good. They had all heard him. Were they going to support him? Or hand him over, Vajranga?
A drop of sweat traced down his jaw. He stood frozen as the entire hall held its breath.
...
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