Night did not bring rest.
It brought memory.
Bhishma sat alone inside his pavilion, armor set aside, wounds cleaned but not hidden. The bow lay across his knees—not as a weapon, but as a reminder.
He had drawn it for kings.
He had drawn it for vows.
He had drawn it for a future he believed would hold.
Now he wondered if belief itself had been the heaviest burden.
"You still stand," Bhishma murmured to himself. "But for what?"
Outside, the camp murmured uneasily. Commanders argued in hushed tones. Soldiers questioned orders they once followed without thought.
This was new.
And it was irreversible.
A shadow shifted at the entrance.
Vidura stepped in quietly.
"You should be resting," Vidura said.
Bhishma did not look up. "I am."
Vidura hesitated, then spoke plainly. "Men no longer look to Duryodhana for certainty."
Bhishma's grip tightened briefly on the bow.
"Nor should they," he said.
Vidura exhaled. "If you withdraw—"
"I won't," Bhishma interrupted. "Not yet."
"Why?"
Bhishma finally looked up, eyes clear.
"Because someone must show them what fighting without lies looks like."
The system observed.
—
[Legacy Role: Stabilizer]
—
Across the camp, Duryodhana raged.
A goblet shattered against stone.
"They hesitated," he snarled. "They *looked away*!"
Shakuni said nothing.
"You felt it too," Duryodhana continued. "That pressure. That watching."
Shakuni finally spoke. "Fear is not loyalty."
Duryodhana's voice dropped. "Then what is left to me?"
Shakuni did not answer.
Because the truth was too cruel.
Very little.
---
Far from the camps, Rudra sat beside a small fire with Anaya.
The flames were modest.
Contained.
"You didn't step in," Anaya said.
"I didn't need to," Rudra replied.
"Does that bother you?"
Rudra considered.
"No," he said. "It reassures me."
She smiled faintly. "You're still you."
The system logged the moment.
—
[Self-Identity: Stable]
—
Later, Krishna approached alone.
"You've done something unusual," Krishna said.
"I stopped pretending?" Rudra replied.
Krishna laughed softly. "You stopped being the answer."
Rudra met his gaze. "They need to answer themselves."
Krishna's expression turned thoughtful.
"You know," he said, "there was a time when even gods were not allowed to interfere."
"And what happened?" Rudra asked.
Krishna smiled.
"Men grew."
---
At the edge of the battlefield, Bhishma stepped outside his pavilion once more.
He looked toward the unseen place where Rudra stood—not in reverence, not in fear.
In acknowledgment.
"I see the line now," Bhishma said quietly. "And I will not cross it."
Somewhere, Rudra felt the words.
He did not respond.
He did not need to.
The night deepened.
And with it, the certainty that tomorrow would not be kinder—
Only clearer.
-- chapter 46 ended --