If Putana's fall had shaken Gokul, what followed confused it.
Life, stubborn and simple, resumed.
Cows needed milking. Children needed feeding. Butter still needed guarding—especially from one particular blue-skinned menace who showed absolutely no remorse.
Krishna, now sturdy enough to sit and crawl with confidence, had developed a reputation.
Not as a demon-slayer.
As a menace to dairy.
Yashoda had tried everything.
Higher shelves.
Thicker pots.
More supervision.
Nothing worked.
Somehow, butter always found its way to Krishna's mouth.
One afternoon, preparations were underway for a village gathering. A large wooden cart stood near the center of the clearing, piled high with pots of milk, curd, and butter, shaded beneath cloth canopies.
Krishna lay beneath the cart, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of straw.
Within his awareness, threads shifted.
Threat detected.
Status: Dormant.
Designation: Shakatasura.
The system chimed lightly.
«Hostile entity hiding in agricultural equipment.
Honestly, that's a new one.»
Krishna resisted the urge to laugh.
Shakatasura was clever—in a desperate sort of way. Concealed within the cart, bound by enchantments, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Krishna felt his intent clearly.
Crush.
Kill.
Escape.
Simple.
Inefficient.
Yashoda approached, wiping her hands. "Krishna, stay there," she warned gently. "Don't move."
Krishna looked up at her with wide, obedient eyes.
He did not move.
He waited.
Shakatasura sensed opportunity.
The cart trembled.
A wheel creaked ominously.
Villagers paused, frowning.
"What was that?"
Krishna yawned.
The cart lurched violently, tipping as demonic force surged from within.
Yashoda screamed.
"KRISHNA!"
Time slowed.
Krishna assessed.
Villagers in danger: minimal.
Yashoda's fear: high.
Threat elimination: required.
Solution: Simple.
He lifted one tiny foot.
And kicked.
The impact was not loud.
It was decisive.
The cart exploded outward, wooden beams shattering as if struck by a mountain. Pots flew through the air, bursting in showers of milk and butter.
Shakatasura screamed as his form was torn apart, dark energy dispersing violently before evaporating entirely.
Silence followed.
Milk rained down gently.
Krishna blinked.
Then giggled.
The villagers stared, mouths open.
The cart—reduced to splinters.
The demon—gone.
The child—laughing.
Yashoda ran forward, heart pounding, scooping Krishna into her arms, checking him frantically.
"Are you hurt? Say something!" she cried.
Krishna reached up and smeared butter across her cheek.
Yashoda froze.
Then laughed shakily through tears. "You little menace…"
Nanda approached slowly, staring at the wreckage.
"That cart…" he murmured. "It would've crushed him."
An elder whispered, voice trembling, "No… it never stood a chance."
Krishna nestled comfortably against Yashoda.
Within his mind—
«Second Demon Neutralized.
Method: Structural Redesign via Foot.
Collateral Damage: Dairy products.
Community Morale: Confused but stable.»
Krishna approved.
Milk wastage was regrettable.
Later that evening, Gokul buzzed with speculation.
"Did you see that kick?"
"That wasn't normal!"
"He's blessed—he must be!"
Yashoda refused to listen.
"He's just a child," she insisted fiercely. "My child."
Krishna liked that answer.
That night, as he lay under the stars, awareness stretched further than before.
Kamsa raged in Mathura.
"Two demons," he snarled. "TWO!"
His advisors trembled.
"Send more," Kamsa ordered. "Send everything."
Krishna sensed the ripple.
More threats would come.
Good.
He rolled onto his side, utterly unconcerned.
«Threat Queue Updated,» the system added dryly.
«Estimated Incoming Demons: Multiple.
Difficulty Scaling: Mildly Annoying.»
Krishna smiled to himself.
Mildly annoying?
He could work with that.
Yashoda covered him with a blanket, brushing his hair gently.
"Sleep," she whispered. "You're safe."
Krishna closed his eyes.
He was.
For now.
--chapter 8 ended--