The courtyard was no longer a symbol of royal grandeur; it was a wasteland of scorched stone and shattered marble. The air still vibrated from the residue of the Amtham—the absolute erasure skill. Rudra looked at the devastation, then at his son, his voice heavy with a mix of awe and fear.
"Amar," Rudra began, surveying the blackened earth where the palace garden once bloomed. "Why did you release your Amtham here? That power is meant for gods and demons, not for a sparring match in your own home."
Isha stepped forward, her eyes wide as she touched a pillar that had turned to fine ash. "It took me years of cultivation just to understand the basics of divine energy. How did a fourteen-year-old master a skill that can erase existence in just nine years?"
Amar Raghu sheathed the Manko, his expression turning grim. "In the internal void, Father, time is a different beast. Nine years there felt like an eternity of combat. But we have bigger problems than my training."
He looked toward the horizon, where the spires of the Kanaka Durga Temple rose above Indrakeeladri Hill. "Father, I have to ask. Everyone says Lord Kanaka Durga Devi is the ultimate protector of Vijayawada. Her power is absolute. So... how is it possible that demons have occupied this city? Why hasn't her divine light burned them to cinders? Doesn't that strike you as impossible?"
The question hit Rudra like a physical blow. His Red Eye pulsed. He had been so focused on his own ascension and the Hano rebels that he had overlooked the most glaring contradiction in his kingdom. "The Goddess's power... it shouldn't be possible for darkness to breathe in her shadow."
A sudden, cold realization washed over Rudra. "They've done something to the mountain."
"Go," Rudra commanded his wives. "Search the city, the shrines, the ley lines. Find out why the Mother's power is fading. I will go to the back of the mountain—the hidden face of Indrakeeladri."
While Rudra moved toward the mountain's shadow, Isha, Aarini, Sara, and Manasa fanned out through the city markets. As they reached the edge of the royal district, a lavish carriage made of dark gold and obsidian blocked their path. A man stepped out, flanked by guards whose armor hummed with a foreign, oppressive energy.
He was tall, with eyes that looked like cold coins. "Quite a collection of beauty in such a ruined city," the man said, his gaze lingering on Sara.
Manasa stepped forward, her hand on her fan. "Who are you to block the path of the Potnuri queens?"
The man smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. "I am Mura, the King of Mumbai. I have traveled far to see the 'Demon King' of the south, but I find his treasures much more interesting. Tell me, miss... what is your name?"
Sara glared at him, her aura flaring. "My name is Sara. And you are standing on land that belongs to Rudra."
King Mura laughed, walking closer until he was inches from Sara. "Rudra? The boy king? Listen, Sara... a woman of your caliber shouldn't be wasted on a student-warrior. I can offer you a bed of gold and power beyond your dreams. Why not come with me tonight?"
The air turned freezing. "How dare you, you bastard!" Sara spat. "Do you think I am a blood slave to be bought and sold?"
Mura's smile didn't fade. "What do I care for your loyalty? You are a prize. I will have you."
"I am the wife of Rudra," Sara declared, her voice ringing like a bell. "If you touch me, he will erase your entire lineage from the map."
Mura paused, then stepped back, bowing mockingly. "Fine. If you are so confident in your husband, let us make it interesting. My son is traveling with my vanguard. If you can defeat him—and the warriors of my kingdom—perhaps I will leave. But if you fail... you come with me."
Mura turned and signaled his men to retreat. "I shall wait for you in the assembly, or perhaps on the battlefield."
As Mura's carriage disappeared, Isha turned to Sara, her face etched with worry. "Sara, why did you let him leave? We could have ended him right here. We could have burned his soul before Rudra even noticed."
Sara looked at the mountain where Rudra was searching, then back at the city. "No, Isha. If we kill a visiting King here, in the middle of our city, it gives the other kingdoms a reason to unite against Rudra. We are the reason the city is being targeted. We don't tell Rudra about this."
Aarini narrowed her eyes. "You want to handle this ourselves?"
"We will go to his kingdom," Sara whispered, her eyes flashing with a cold, lethal resolve. "We will kill the King in his own palace, in front of his own people. When they see their 'God-King' fall to the wives of the man they insulted, their fear will keep them quiet for a century. Rudra has enough burdens with the Goddess and the demons. This... this insu
lt is ours to avenge."The shadows of Indrakeeladri Hill stretched long and jagged as Rudra climbed toward the hidden peak, his Red Eye scanning for the source of the spiritual corruption. Nearby, Aadhya moved like a ghost through the dense foliage of the mountain's backside, her senses attuned to the fading pulse of the Goddess's power. The air here was heavy, not with the fragrance of temple incense, but with the metallic tang of old blood and dark sorcery.
Down in the city, Aarini stood at the gates of the palace, her face a mask of cold resolve. Before her stood Amar Raghu and Vasuki, the latter still shimmering with the residual energy of his serpent transformation.
"Mother," Amar Raghu said, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "The King of Mumbai has insulted Mother Sara. He has insulted the Potnuri name. We do not need Father to handle a common dog like Mura. Give us permission to go."
Aarini looked at her son—the boy who carried the blood of two queens and the training of a void-goddess. She looked at Vasuki, the prince of the Nagas. "Go," she commanded, her voice ringing like steel. "But do not kill him immediately. That would be too merciful. I want that King to crawl on his knees and bow his head in the dust before Mother Sara. Bring him back as a broken lesson for the world to see."
"We hear and obey," Vasuki hissed, his eyes glowing gold.
Within hours, through a combination of Vasuki's high-speed flight and Amar Raghu's space-warping steps, they crossed the borders and entered the sprawling, chaotic heart of Mumbai. The city was a fortress of iron and neon, a stark contrast to the spiritual ancientry of Vijayawada.
As they approached the outer walls of the royal district, a young girl with eyes as bright as the morning star stepped into their path. She wore silks of royal blue and gold, looking out of place in the dusty street.
"You look lost," the girl said, looking at Amar Raghu. "Travelers usually don't walk through this gate with swords drawn. What is your name?"
Amar Raghu stopped, his hand resting on the hilt of the Manko. He looked at her with a piercing gaze. "You started the conversation. It is only polite that you name yourself first."
The girl smiled, unafraid of the dark aura radiating from him. "I am Sita."
Vasuki stepped forward, his expression neutral. "Sita... a noble name. Tell us, where is the castle of King Mura? We have an appointment."
"The castle? I can show you," Sita said, turning to lead the way. "It's just past the high gardens. But why do you look so grim?"
Amar Raghu walked beside her, watching the way the sunlight caught her hair. "Who is your father, Sita?"
"The Great King Mura," she replied proudly. "He is the strongest man in the west."
Amar Raghu stopped. A flicker of something—perhaps pity, perhaps regret—crossed his face. "I am sorry, Sita."
Sita tilted her head, confused. "Sorry? For what?"
"For what comes next," Amar whispered.
They reached the massive iron gates of the palace. Sita pointed toward the high balcony. "There it is. My father is likely in the assembly."
Amar Raghu didn't wait. He stepped into the center of the courtyard, his voice erupting like a thunderclap that shattered the windows of the surrounding towers.
"KING MURA! COME OUT AND FACE THE BLOOD YOU INSULTED!"
The balcony doors flew open. Mura stepped out, flanked by hundreds of elite soldiers. He looked down and laughed when he saw the two youths. "The student-king sent his children to die for him? Where is the girl, Sara? Did she send you to negotiate her arrival?"
Amar Raghu's Red Eye flared, turning the entire courtyard into a sea of crimson pressure. "We are here for a combat challenge. One on one. I will only move three times. If you survive the third, you live."
Mura sneered, unsheathing a massive, heavy broadsword. "You arrogant pup! I will feed your remains to the crows!"
Mura leapt from the balcony, the weight of his armor cracking the stone as he landed. He swung his sword in a massive horizontal arc, a strike meant to cleave a man in half. Amar Raghu didn't even draw his blade; he simply tilted his head, the sword missing him by a fraction of an inch.
"That was your free turn," Amar said coldly.
Mura roared, swinging again with desperate speed. This time, Amar Raghu's hand moved.
First Strike.
The Manko flashed like a black streak of lightning. There was no sound of metal hitting bone, only a soft hiss. Mura's right arm, still clutching the broadsword, spun through the air and thudded into the dirt. Mura stared at his stump for a second before the agonizing scream tore from his throat.
"How dare you ask my mother, Sara, to sleep with you?" Amar hissed, his voice sounding like a thousand demons speaking at once.
Second Strike.
The blade blurred again. Mura's legs were severed at the knees before he could even fall. The King of Mumbai collapsed into the dust, a torso of meat and screaming lungs. His soldiers moved to attack, their spears leveled at Vasuki.
"Stay back," Vasuki warned.
When the soldiers didn't stop, Vasuki's body began to swell. Within seconds, a giant, emerald-winged serpent towered over the palace, its shadow engulfing the army. With one breath of golden fire, the frontline of the Mumbai vanguard was turned to ash. The rest of the soldiers dropped their weapons, paralyzed by the sight of a living god-beast.
Mura, bleeding out and shaking in the dirt, began to pray. "Please... mercy... I didn't know... I didn't know she was the mother of a monster!"
"You are not a man," Amar Raghu said, looking down at the mangled King. "You are a lesson. You want to stay alive? Then you will travel to Vijayawada."
Amar Raghu grabbed the back of Mura's collar. With a surge of his Amtham-laced power, he distorted the space around them.
Back in the Vijayawada palace assembly, the air rippled. Amar Raghu appeared in the center of the hall, throwing the bleeding, limbless body of King Mura onto the floor.
Sara stood at the throne, her eyes cold as she looked down at the man who had insulted her. Mura, once the proud King of the West, began to sob, his head thumping against the floor. "Please... Queen Sara... spare me... I am a dog... I am a worm..."
The court was silent. The wives, the ministers, and the guards watched in awe.
Sara looked at Amar Raghu, then at the pathetic remains of Mura. "Leave him," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "A dead king is a martyr. A king who lives as a limbless beggar in the shadow of the Potnuri is a permanent warning."
Within hours, the news spread like wildfire across the world. The King of Mumbai had been dismantled in his own castle by the 14-year-old son of Rudra. The message was clear to every kingdom: Do not touch the Potnuri Queens. To insult the wives is to invite the wrath of the sons.
But as the world trembled, Rudra stood at the back of the mountain, looking at a seal that had been broken. The Goddess was fading because something
far worse than a King had been unleashed.