The cheers from the spear test still echoed faintly around the vast swayamvara grounds even as attendants hurried into the centre arena once more.
Broken fragments of iron and shattered wood were dragged away by sweating workers while soldiers restored order around the field.
Yet despite the noise and movement, the attention of the entire gathering remained fixed on only one figure — Karna. Kings who had earlier looked at him merely as a dangerous rival now watched him with something heavier in their eyes: caution.
Because skill could sometimes be challenged.
Power could sometimes be matched.
But when both existed together in terrifying abundance… that was when fear quietly began entering the hearts of men.
Soon the arena changed again.
This time workers rolled forward an enormous stone statue carved from solid granite.
The sculpture stood nearly eight feet tall and thick as an elephant's torso, its surface rough and dark beneath the sunlight.
Even from afar, the sheer density of the stone was obvious. Four iron chains held it upright temporarily while attendants secured its base firmly into the ground. The dull grinding sound of stone scraping against stone echoed across the arena.
Some princes narrowed their eyes. Others stretched their shoulders unconsciously. Everyone understood now that the next challenge would not test elegance or precision. This was raw strength — pure destructive force.
Duryodhana rose once more from the royal platform, his voice carrying proudly across the gathering.
"The third test… is Mace Strike!"
Several servants stepped forward carrying massive ceremonial maces one after another, placing them carefully upon weapon stands around the arena floor. The weapons themselves looked brutal, their iron heads thick and heavy enough to crush armour and bone alike.
"The contestant," Duryodhana continued loudly, "must use the mace to break or topple the stone statue before him. Strength and power shall be judged." He raised his arm toward the arena. "Let the test begin!"
Immediately, tension spread among the contestants once more. Unlike archery, strength could not be hidden behind cleverness. Unlike spear throwing, there was no possibility of luck. This test exposed the body itself.
The first contestant, a young prince from Kosala, stepped forward trying to appear confident despite the nervousness visible beneath his expression. He wrapped both hands tightly around the mace handle and inhaled deeply. Then, with a loud roar, he swung.
*THUD!*
The impact echoed heavily. Small fragments of stone chipped outward. But when the dust settled, only a shallow crack had formed across the statue's lower side. The prince stepped backward, breathing heavily, disappointment flashing openly across his face before he forced himself to return calmly to his seat.
Next came the king of Chedi. Unlike the younger prince, the king moved with the confidence of experience. His broad shoulders tightened beneath his garments as he lifted the heavy mace steadily. For a few moments he circled the statue slowly, studying its balance like a warrior examining an enemy. Then suddenly he attacked.
*BOOM!*
The mace struck directly against the statue's arm with tremendous force. A large stone fragment shattered apart instantly and crashed across the arena floor. The crowd applauded respectfully. But the statue itself still remained standing. The king frowned slightly before walking away with restrained frustration.
Then came a prince from Avanti. His attempt went far worse. His swing lacked proper grounding and balance. The mace struck awkwardly across the stone surface with a harsh scraping sound, barely leaving more than a visible scratch. Several nearby kings quietly shook their heads. The embarrassment on the prince's face deepened immediately as he retreated without even looking toward the royal platform.
Afterward, the king of Vatsa stepped forward. Unlike many others, he fought with brute physical aggression rather than elegance. Veins bulged across his arms while he lifted the mace high overhead before slamming it downward with all his might.
*CRAAASH!*
The entire statue shook violently. Dust exploded outward around the base. And slowly the massive granite figure tilted sideways before collapsing heavily onto the arena floor. A loud wave of applause spread immediately.
Though the statue had not shattered completely, toppling it itself required tremendous force.
And in a way, it is considered a successful display of strength.
The king of Vatsa raised his chin proudly while returning toward his seat.
Then Shalya of Madra stepped forward. At once several expressions around the arena became more attentive. Despite his age, Shalya was still a respected warrior king. His movements carried the polish of long battlefield experience rather than youthful aggression. He rolled his shoulders once before gripping the mace firmly. Then attacked with a sharp, practised swing.
*BOOOOM!*
A deep cracking sound spread across the statue's chest.
Several visible fractures appeared immediately across the granite surface.
But the statue still remained standing. Shalya's breathing grew heavier afterward, and for the briefest instant, irritation flashed across his face when he heard quiet laughter spreading among some younger competitors nearby.
His jaw tightened.
Without another word, he handed the mace back and returned to his seat with visible displeasure burning beneath his composed royal demeanour.
Not long after, Satyaki of Dvarika entered the arena. As someone who trained under Balarama in close combat, his strength is expectedly terrifying. atleast in the eyes of an ordinary fighter.
Karna couldn't help but pay attention to him. The one who almost resisted the Sammohanastra he unleashed on Dvarika's army to render them unconscious when he went to get Subhadra.
Unlike Shalya, Satyaki fought with straightforward physical force. He planted both feet firmly into the earth, gripped the mace with both hands, and let out a powerful roar before striking.
*CRAAASH!*
This time the statue exploded apart into several massive pieces. Chunks of granite rolled across the arena floor while dust burst upward around the impact site.
The applause became much louder now. Even Dhritarashtra clapped approvingly after hearing the descriptions from nearby attendants. Prince Satyaki stood proudly within the dust cloud for a few moments afterward, chest rising heavily with satisfaction.
Then his eyes drifted upward instinctively toward Princess Dushala seated behind the decorated veil curtains above.
For a brief moment, hope flickered inside him.
But Dushala remained silent, still, composed, her expression hidden beneath the veil.
Satyaki slowly looked away afterward, though inwardly he still felt some pride. After all, few warriors present had managed to produce such destruction.
At least… until Karna's turn arrived.
The servants hurried again to place yet another granite statue in the centre arena. This one looked even larger somehow beneath the spreading dust and sunlight. And then Karna walked forward.
The atmosphere shifted immediately. Even conversations stopped midway. Because by now everyone understood something clearly: whenever Karna stepped into the arena, the challenge itself stopped feeling important. The only question remaining was how overwhelmingly he would surpass it.
The past two challengers are the best examples of it.
Karna approached the weapon stand calmly.
This time, without even adjusting his posture much, he picked up the massive mace using only one hand.
That alone caused visible reactions among several kings nearby.
The weapon that required others to brace their entire bodies rested within his grip naturally, casually, as though its tremendous weight meant nothing.
He stepped before the granite statue. Stopped. Then stared at it quietly. No roar. No dramatic declaration. No visible effort to impress anyone.
For one long breath, nothing moved.
Then suddenly Karna swung.
*BOOOOOOM!*
The explosion-like impact shook the entire arena.
The sound itself felt closer to thunder than stone breaking.
For a split second, the statue remained standing.
Then it disintegrated completely — not cracked, not toppled.
Shattered.
The entire granite structure burst apart into countless fragments that exploded outward across the arena floor while a cloud of dust surged upward violently.
Nearby attendants instinctively shielded their faces. Several horses near the outer royal stands neighed loudly in alarm. The ground itself seemed to tremble faintly beneath the force of the strike.
And Karna simply lowered the mace afterward — calmly, as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
For several moments, only drifting dust filled the arena. Then the court erupted once more into thunderous applause louder than ever before. Warriors shouted openly now. Servants praised him loudly. Even rival kings who disliked him could not deny what they had witnessed.
"That strength…"
"Unbelievable…"
Above the royal platform, Dushala's fingers intertwined tightly together beneath her veil as she tried desperately to suppress the excitement rushing through her heart.
Her breathing had become uneven without her realising it.
Every challenge.
Every victory.
Every cheer from the crowd… only made her feel more certain. In her eyes, no one else in the arena even existed anymore.
Beside her, Bhishma slowly exhaled a long breath. Then finally the grandsire gave another clear nod of approval. But unlike Duryodhana's excitement or Shakuni's calculating satisfaction, Bhishma's eyes remained burdened.
Because each passing test only strengthened one terrifying realisation inside his mind: if fate ever pushed this man toward war… very few in Aryavarta would be capable of standing before him.
And Bhishma found it a pity that Karna wasn't standing on the side of the Pandavas, his own brothers.
The vast swayamvara arena slowly settled into silence after the last echoes of applause faded away.
Hundreds of eyes remained fixed upon the royal platform, where Princess Dushala stood quietly behind the embroidered veil curtains, while the gathered kings and princes waited for the final phase of the contest.
Until now, the tests had belonged to strength, to skill, to martial glory.
But everyone present understood that the final challenge would reveal something more dangerous than weapons — a man's mind, a man's understanding. And often kingdoms were destroyed less by swords and more by the thoughts inside the men holding them.
After attendants cleared away the broken fragments of stone and dust-covered weapon stands, calm gradually returned to the arena.