Dr. Rao's face, usually calm and academic, held a grim intensity. "The scene Gauri was about to create was one of absolute necessity, but it would come at a cost to her son's innocence that even she did not foresee."
.....
Gauri moved silently, a silhouette of vengeance swallowed by the torrential rain. The heavy downpour, which had been her shield, was now washing the blood from her skin, mingling it with the forest mud.
She closed the short distance swiftly, using the dense shrubs and the rhythmic beat of the rain to mask her approach. She was close enough now to analyze the situation and accurately throw her knives, yet still hidden by the poor visibility.
She saw them—seven armed men, casually standing beneath the thick canopy, their posture relaxed, their conversation foul. And beside them, held captive, was her son.
Seeing Rudraksha, small and vulnerable, her heart bled more acutely than any of the gashes on her body. It was an internal wound, deeper and more devastating than any steel could inflict.
A dangerous, unfamiliar thought brought her forward momentum to an agonizing halt.
If I begin the slaughter now, in front of him… what will he think?
She had beaten men in front of Rudraksha, yes, but never had she taken a life in his presence. She feared the sight of a demon-like mother. Will he be shocked? Will he feel disgust? Will he hate me? Will he run away from me?
That was her greatest fear: that the son she fought to save would be lost to her forever due to the method of his salvation.
Gauri violently shook her head, dismissing the paralyzing fear. Why bother with these sentimental thoughts when death is already upon us? If the price of his survival was her son's revulsion, then so be it.
She lowered her body into a crouch, one knee sinking into the wet earth near a thick shrub. Her skills were versatile; she was an accomplished archer and a master of throwing knives—the stealthy arts of the assassin.
She took the two hunting knives from her sash. The rain made accurate aiming difficult, but her focus was absolute, a singular point of deadly calm in the storm.
After a minute of intense concentration, Gauri launched the first knife with explosive force.
Fwip!
The knife flew true, cutting through the heavy rain. It slammed directly into Ketan's neck, piercing the artery and striking deep into the tree behind him. Ketan's surprise was absolute; he felt the cold steel, the sudden, violent gush of warmth from his body, and died quickly, collapsing without a sound, his eyes wide in confusion.
The sudden, silent death instantly galvanized the remaining six men. They sprang from their seats, alerted and shocked.
Gauri didn't stop. A few seconds later, the second knife followed, aimed low and fast. It went straight into Jivan's thigh, pinning his limb to the ground. Jivan cried out in pure, crippling pain and collapsed. Even as a hardened warrior, that kind of deep injury meant he could only crawl.
Lieutenant Baras roared, instantly recognizing the tactics of a highly trained foe. He assumed a group of assassins had been hired to ambush them. "Who are you?! What have we done? Who hired you?!"
He received no answer, only the sound of leaves rustling as Gauri transitioned from ranged combat to melee, closing the distance. The Saka men, their fear mounting, took defensive battle positions, spreading out slightly to search for the hidden enemy.
Then, Gauri struck the melee line.
Devak, positioned on the right flank, had only a split second to register a blur of wet silk and shining steel. Gauri's sword charged in, aimed for his head. He tried desperately to dodge, but the motion was too quick. His world spun, and he died in an instant, his cut head falling to the muddy ground while his body stood briefly, headless, before collapsing in a spray of blood.
Rudraksha, rooted on the horse nearby, witnessed the impossible. His mother, the gentle woman who braided his hair and taught him to read, had fluidly killed three armed men in seconds. A profound, terrifying fear gripped his heart.
Is my mother possessed by a demon? The violence was beyond anything his young mind could process. He was utterly numb, rooted to the spot by the sheer horror.
Baras, now face-to-face with the attacking figure, met the clash of swords. He recognized the heft and feel of the weapon instantly. This is Zarakan's captured sword!
Full realization hit him like a physical blow. "It's Gauri! Attack her fast!" he commanded the three remaining men: Anuj, Sumer, and Kaji.
Gauri, sensing the change in Baras's defense, aimed a quick stab at his shoulder, drawing a minor, but distracting, injury. Seeing the three fresh fighters closing in, she retreated slightly. Her injured left arm was a constant, stinging agony, but the cold rain offered a momentary, external anesthetic.
Four men. I can't deal with four men directly. She couldn't retreat to retrieve her knives; the window was too narrow.
As Sumer and Kaji charged forward, Gauri acted on instinct. She lowered her body swiftly and scooped up a handful of mud and gritty sand with her uninjured right hand, flicking it violently toward the faces of the two charging men. Their movements instantly became clumsy as they covered their eyes, momentarily blinded.
Gauri exploited the opening mercilessly. With lightning speed, she targeted both of their legs, slicing low and deep. Sumer and Kaji screamed, falling heavily to the ground, now crippled and crawling.
Anuj, the last standing fighter, saw his comrades fall in rapid succession. His eyes, desperate, fell upon Rudraksha, still frozen on the horse.
A cruel, tactical thought flashed across Anuj's mind. He charged not at Gauri, but at the child. He swiftly pulled Rudraksha from the horse, holding the small boy tight against his chest, shield-fashion.
Gauri stopped dead in her tracks, the sight of her son in the clutches of the enemy instantly halting her assault.
Rudraksha, held hostage, felt despair wash over him. Then, he looked up at his mother. He saw not a demon, but a beautiful, bloodied woman fighting with the ferocious love he had always known. His heart began to beat furiously, and the rising tide of his helplessness boiled over into a desperate rage. He understood. I am not a hindrance to her. I am her heart. I must not be the reason for her defeat.
He gazed up at Anuj's exposed neck, thick and pulsating with adrenaline.
Anuj, feeling a perverse sense of victory, believed Gauri was defeated. He didn't see the tiny captive as a threat. But then, he felt a crushing, agonizing pressure on his neck.
Rudraksha was biting him.
The child had locked his jaw onto Anuj's neck with the desperate, full-force strength of an animal fighting for its life. Anuj yelled, struggling wildly to throw the boy away, but Rudraksha's small body coiled around him, his grip like that of a poisonous snake.
Anuj screamed, cursing and struggling, but Rudraksha's mind was deaf to the noise. He applied maximum pressure, biting through skin, muscle, and cartilage.
Then, a horrifying event unfolded: Gauri watched in silent terror as Rudraksha's desperate bite tore and separated a less-than-half chunk of flesh from Anuj's neck.
Anuj collapsed onto the muddy ground, panting, suffocated, his life force visibly draining away in the pooling blood. Rudraksha, covered in the man's blood, fell nearby, his small body heaving with exertion and shock.
Gauri, waking from her paralyzed daze, felt a sudden, sharp twang of a bowstring.
An arrow, shot by Baras, who had seized the momentary distraction to use his last resource, came whistling through the rain. Gauri raised her already injured left arm to shield her face, but the action was too slow and too late.
The arrow instantly pierced through her left shoulder, sinking deep. The combination of the horizontal gash on her forearm and the arrow in her shoulder unleashed a wave of blinding, all-consuming pain.
She screamed—a raw, guttural sound of agony that echoed the death cries of the Saka men.
Baras was already nocking a second arrow. Gauri twisted and dodged the next shot, feeling the wind of the arrow pass by her ear. Her vision swam. She felt like death was claiming her, but her invincible will forced her to wake up.
Baras was vulnerable now.
Gauri spun, ignoring the unbearable pain, and charged the crawling forms of Sumer and Kaji. Using the last of her momentum, she dispatched them with brutal, efficient strokes—sword to the head. They died instantly, their fear-ridden eyes staring blankly at the dark sky.
Rudraksha watched, weak, his small body racked by violent shudders. He saw the arrow in his mother's shoulder and closed his eyes, praying with a desperate intensity he didn't know he possessed. Please, let her win.
Gauri used her remaining strength, her war-cry muffled by the rain, and leaped toward Baras, who had dropped his bow and drawn his sword. The movement was primal, fueled by the sheer necessity of survival. She delivered a tremendous horizontal slash that cut through Baras's armor and pierced half of his stomach.
Baras instantly fell, his sword clattering into the mud. He gazed at the retreating figure of Gauri, then at the dying form of Anuj, and then at Rudraksha, covered in blood but standing defiant. Baras muttered softly, his voice fading with his life.
"Oh… my King… please save me from this mother-son devil pair…"
.....
Eleanor Vance stood up, shocked, her hands flying to her mouth.
"A child… using his mouth to kill," she exclaimed, her voice thick with horror and disbelief. "Dr. Rao, even hearing that is terrifying! That man died by biting! And Gauri… with that injury, how is she still standing?" The entire audience, both in the studio and watching at home across different countries, was visibly stunned by the savage intensity of the moment.
Dr. Rao waited patiently for the wave of shock to pass.
"Ms. Vance," he said softly, "a harsh choice, an ultimate act of violence, is born when something terrifying boils over in a person's heart. Rudraksha, facing his mother's collapse, made an instinctive, animalistic choice to protect her. He was not a devil. He was a son driven by the fierce, terrifying love he had for his mother, mirroring her own ferocity."
Eleanor calmed herself, nodding. "And Gauri? That level of pain, an arrow piercing her shoulder… she finally defeated them. What will she do now?"
Dr. Rao's eyes returned to the ancient battlefield. "Now, Gauri is breathing heavily. She sits down in the rain, allowing the cold water to wash away the blood and shock, seeking a piece of rest for her mind. She knows she must finish the remaining target: Zarakan."
"There are still two men left with him," Eleanor noted.
"Precisely," Dr. Rao agreed, his voice gaining the chilling tone of finality. "She must retrieve her knives and finish the last of the Saka invasion. She is a full circle warrior. She must finish the job. So…"
Dr. Rao paused, his gaze fixed, as the camera zoomed in on the lone, blood-soaked figure sitting in the rain. "She gets up, ignoring the pain. Her final confrontation is upon her."