Three more days passed quietly within the radiant walls of Kanipura.
The celebrations had almost completely faded now. Most of the grand guests had already departed, and the palace had slowly returned to its natural rhythm once more. The endless sound of drums no longer echoed across the courtyards every evening. The royal cooks no longer prepared feasts large enough to feed entire battalions. Even the palace servants moved with calmer steps instead of rushing through corridors carrying silks, flowers, perfumes, jewels, and ceremonial trays.
Yet despite the calmness, a strange heaviness lingered in the atmosphere. Because departures still remained. And some farewells were more difficult than battles.
That evening, at the shores of the great ocean beside Kanipura, the sky burned with colors of gold, crimson, and deep orange as the sun slowly descended toward the horizon. The waves moved calmly beneath the fading light while cool sea winds carried the scent of salt and wet sand through the air.
Standing near the edge of the waters, Karna performed his evening Sandhya Vandana.
Barefoot upon the damp sand, dressed in simple white garments instead of royal attire, he stood facing the setting sun with complete stillness. The ocean breeze moved gently against his loose hair and cloth while the last golden rays reflected faintly across his divine armor beneath the fabric.
Slowly, Karna bent down and scooped water into his joined palms. The seawater shimmered with orange light. Then, with controlled breath and steady devotion, he raised the water toward the setting sun and offered Arghya to Surya. The water streamed down slowly between his fingers like liquid gold before disappearing into the ocean waves.
His lips moved calmly afterward.
"Om Bhur Bhuvah Swaha…"
The sacred Gayatri Mantra flowed from him softly yet steadily, blending into the sound of crashing waves and distant seabirds circling above the sea. The atmosphere itself seemed calmer around him. Even the restless ocean appeared quieter.
After the mantra ended, Karna closed his eyes and entered silent meditation while the final edge of the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.
And during that silence, he sensed someone approaching.
Soft footsteps against the sand. Slow. Hesitant. Heavy with emotion.
Yet Karna did not immediately turn around. He calmly completed his salutations first. Only after the final prayer ended did he slowly open his eyes and turn.
There, standing several steps away beneath the orange evening sky, was Kunti.
For a brief moment neither spoke. The wind moved between them quietly.
Kunti slowly walked closer. Her expression carried exhaustion that no royal ornaments could hide anymore. Her eyes already looked moist even before a single word had been spoken.
Karna stepped toward her respectfully and joined his palms.
"Queen Kunti."
The words struck her once again like an invisible blade. Queen Kunti. Not Mother. Every time he spoke formally, it reminded her of the river, of the basket, of the infant she had abandoned.
Kunti's fingers clenched tightly beneath her shawl as she struggled to control the rising pain within her chest. But this time she did not ask him to stop. Because somewhere inside her heart she already understood. Some wounds could be forgiven. But not erased.
"I am leaving for Hastinapura tomorrow," she said softly after gathering herself. "Before I leave… I wished to see you once."
Karna listened quietly.
Kunti lowered her gaze briefly before continuing.
"I know there are things in this world which cannot be repaired once broken," she said slowly. "A pot once shattered may be joined again with gold or clay… but the cracks always remain visible." Her voice trembled slightly. "I will not ask you for the impossible anymore."
She looked into his eyes directly.
"At the very least, I am leaving with the belief… that you do not hate me."
Silence followed again. The ocean waves rolled against the shore steadily behind them.
Karna looked at her calmly. Then after several moments he spoke.
"Actually… even if you had not come to speak with me today, I would still have made time to meet you before your departure."
Kunti looked slightly surprised.
Karna continued calmly.
"There is something I wish to give you before you leave."
Kunti blinked softly. Something to give her? For a moment, confusion mixed with emotion inside her eyes. But before she could ask further, Karna only said quietly,
"Please meet me once more before you depart tomorrow."
Then he respectfully bowed once more and slowly walked away along the shoreline while the evening wind continued blowing across the darkening sea.
Kunti remained standing there alone, watching his departing figure. Her chest ached strangely. Because despite everything — despite his distance, despite the pain — he still thought about meeting her before she left. And for a mother starving for even the smallest fragment of affection from her child, that tiny gesture alone felt unbearably precious.
Later that same evening, within the royal archery grounds of Kanipura, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Darkness had already spread across the sky while hundreds of torches burned around the massive training grounds, casting flickering golden light across targets, weapon racks, and stone pathways. The sharp sound of arrows cutting through air echoed repeatedly.
Thwack!
Another arrow struck the center of the target.
Thwack!
Another followed immediately beside it.
Standing alone beneath the torchlight was Arjuna. Even while visiting another kingdom, even during celebrations, even during travel, he never neglected practice. Sweat glistened lightly across his skin while his focused eyes remained locked upon the targets ahead. His movements were swift, disciplined, and precise, yet tonight there was a certain restlessness in the way he released each arrow — as if he were trying to silence his own thoughts.
Then suddenly he sensed another presence entering the grounds.
Arjuna turned slightly. Karna approached calmly through the torchlit pathway. Arjuna straightened instinctively.
For a brief moment both simply looked at one another. The relationship between them had changed greatly during these past months. Not friendship. Not yet. But neither pure rivalry anymore. There was now something far more complicated between them — respect, curiosity, competition, and a strange unspoken connection neither fully understood.
Karna stopped beside him.
"I have something for you, Arjuna," he said calmly.
Arjuna blinked.
"For me?"
His brows furrowed slightly in confusion. Since when had Karna become generous toward him? And they certainly were not close enough to exchange gifts casually. Yet at the same time, Arjuna could no longer look at Karna with simple hostility either. After witnessing Kanipura, after seeing how every varna lived with dignity, after seeing women educated and respected openly, after seeing how ordinary citizens spoke of Karna not with fear but with affection… it had become impossible for Arjuna to paint Karna merely as an arrogant king or rival anymore.
So despite his confusion, he followed.
Karna led him deeper into one of the massive royal armories. The room itself looked almost like a treasury of war. Rows of swords reflected torchlight from polished racks. Spears, shields, maces, bows, armor, and divine-quality weapons lined the walls carefully. The faint smell of oil, wood, leather, and sharpened metal filled the cool air.
Arjuna's eyes moved around instinctively. Even he could tell this was no ordinary collection.
Karna walked calmly between the racks before finally stopping in front of a particular stand. After observing briefly, he picked up a bow and turned, handing it toward Arjuna.
The weapon was beautiful. Crafted from dark polished wood strengthened with layered horn and metal, the bow carried subtle golden engravings along its curves. Its balance looked nearly perfect, and even before touching it fully, Arjuna could sense the exceptional quality behind its construction.
Slowly, Arjuna accepted it. The moment his fingers wrapped around the grip, his eyes narrowed slightly in surprise. The balance truly was extraordinary.
Karna spoke calmly.
"You possess tremendous talent, Prince Arjuna. Perhaps one of the greatest archery talents I have witnessed. As you have mentioned, you currently lack the knowledge of various Divyastras and a divine bow like mine."
Arjuna instinctively glanced toward the divine Vijaya bow resting nearby. Karna noticed the glance.
"I received my bow from my Gurudev," he said calmly. "But normally such divine weapons cannot be attained that easily. You might have to worship the gods and gain their blessings for that." Then he lightly gestured toward the bow in Arjuna's hands. "This one is among the finest weapons within my armory. Use it until you obtain the divine bow that you wished for."
Arjuna looked down at the bow again silently.
Then Karna's voice became quieter.
"But as someone older than you… let me offer one piece of advice."
The torchlight flickered softly between them.
"Walk the path of excellence," Karna said steadily. "Not the path of supremacy over rivals. Do not obsess over proving yourself better than others. Focus on defeating the yesterday you, rather than someone else."
Arjuna slowly looked up.
Karna's gaze remained calm.
"When a warrior focuses only upon surpassing another person, his eyes remain chained to that person forever. Like a horse tied beside another horse during a race, he only runs while looking sideways. But the one who seeks excellence itself… walks endlessly forward."
Silence filled the armory afterward.
Arjuna felt strangely conflicted. Part of him still burned with pride. He still wished to surpass Karna. Still wished to become the greatest archer. Still disliked hearing Karna speak as though standing above him. And yet another part of him could no longer deny the truth before his eyes. Karna was not petty. Not insecure. Not cruel. Everything Arjuna had witnessed in Dakshina Kalinga proved otherwise. And somehow that made him even harder to oppose emotionally.
In the end, after several quiet moments, Arjuna lowered his gaze slightly and nodded.
"…Thank you."
Karna simply gave a faint smile.
Nothing more needed to be said.