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Chapter 12
First Blood
The march from Hastinapura felt endless and far too short at the same time.
Smoke curled into the evening sky like black fingers clawing at the dying sun. The sharp, bitter smell of burning thatch and spilled blood rode the wind, turning every breath into a warning.
The young Kaurava princes marched in ragged formation, their small hands clenched white-knuckled around swords, spears, and maces that suddenly felt far too heavy.
Some swallowed hard, throats dry.
Some whispered frantic prayers to whatever gods would listen.
Others simply stared ahead with wide, glassy eyes, hearts hammering so loudly they feared the enemy could hear.
At the front walked Duryodhana—Suyodhana—calm, steady, every step deliberate.
His simple armor caught the last rays of sunlight, and the Veer Astra Blade rested at his hip like a quiet promise.
Behind the column rolled Bhishma's war chariot, the old warrior standing tall and silent like an unbreakable mountain, eyes never leaving his grandsons.
They reached the edge of the village just as the first screams pierced the air.
What they saw stopped many of the boys cold.
Houses blazed like funeral pyres.
Golden wheat fields lay trampled into mud.
Villagers—men, women, children—ran in terror while dark, monstrous figures rampaged through the streets.
Nearly fifty asuras.
Their skin was rough and black like cracked stone, red eyes glowing with feral hunger.
Jagged blades dripped with fresh blood.
Some dragged screaming women by their hair.
Others tore into livestock with bare claws.
One of the youngest Kaurava princes, barely nine, whispered in pure terror:
"T-they're… real…"
Another boy's sword rattled violently in his shaking grip.
Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them.
Suyodhana stepped forward.
His voice cut through the rising panic like a cold blade through flesh.
"Brothers."
Every head snapped toward him.
"Remember everything Pitamah taught you. Protect each other. Never fight alone. And above all—remember why we wear this crown."
He raised the Veer Astra Blade.
Its edge caught the firelight and glowed faintly, a single point of hope in the growing darkness.
"Those creatures are not gods. They bleed. They die."
His voice rose, fierce and steady, carrying across the burning village.
"KAURAVAS… FOR HASTINAPUR… ATTACK!"
With a roar that was half terror and half desperate courage, the young princes charged.
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Steel met claw in a deafening crash.
The battlefield exploded into chaos.
Duhshasana swung his gada with a wild cry, smashing it into a Level 2 rakshasa's shoulder.
Bone cracked loudly.
"Die, you filth!" he screamed, voice cracking with adrenaline.
Nearby, Vikarna thrust his bhala forward, barely managing to block a sweeping claw that would have torn his throat open.
The impact jarred his entire arm, sending pain shooting up to his shoulder.
But the asuras were stronger.
Faster.
Crueler.
A rakshasa grabbed a young prince by the chest plate and hurled him like a rag doll into a burning wall.
The boy screamed as flames licked at his armor.
Another asura shattered a shield with one brutal strike, sending wooden splinters flying like deadly rain.
Fear began to claw its way back into their hearts.
A massive Level 2 rakshasa roared and charged straight at Vikarna, its jagged blade swinging down like an executioner's axe.
Vikarna froze.
His legs refused to move.
Time slowed.
He could already feel the cold bite of death—
THUNDER.
A spear of pure force slammed into the rakshasa from the side, blasting the creature across the battlefield in a spray of dark blood.
It crashed into a hut and did not rise.
Bhishma stood behind Vikarna, staff lowered, voice calm yet laced with steel.
"Stand up, child. You are a Kaurava."
The princes glanced back in raw awe.
Their Pitamah had promised not to fight their battles… but he would never let them die.
Throughout the chaos, his silent interventions continued—
Hidden arrows finding throats at the last second.
Sudden gusts of wind knocking enemies off balance.
A precise staff strike from the shadows whenever a boy came too close to fatal injury.
He watched like a guardian deity, letting them taste blood… but never letting them fall completely.
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Then the ground itself trembled.
A terrifying roar shook the air, deeper and more primal than anything they had heard before.
The lesser asuras scattered instantly, clearing a path.
From the smoke emerged their leader.
Krodhakar.
Twice the size of the others, black horns curling from his skull like twisted crowns.
Dark energy writhed across his massive body like living shadows.
His eyes burned with pure malice as he stepped forward, cracking the earth beneath his feet.
One terrified villager screamed:
"That's their commander!"
Krodhakar laughed, a sound like grinding boulders.
"Pathetic little human children playing at war…"
His burning gaze locked directly onto Suyodhana.
"I am Krodhakar, Great asura warlord of the western asura clans. And you, little prince…"
His grin split wide, revealing rows of jagged fangs.
"You will die first."
The Kaurava princes froze in horror.
Even Bhishma's eyes narrowed dangerously.
But Suyodhana stepped forward alone, calm as still water.
His Veer Astra Blade hummed to life in his grip, glowing with soft golden light.
"I was looking for you."
Krodhakar threw his head back and laughed again, the sound echoing across the burning village.
"You dare challenge me alone, boy?"
Behind Suyodhana, his brothers shouted desperately.
"Brother, don't!"
"He'll kill you!"
But Suyodhana did not turn.
His voice remained steady, carrying the weight of every lesson he had forced them to learn.
"Brothers… you need to know what it truly means to be a prince of Hastinapur."
He raised his glowing blade high.
"Watch carefully."
Krodhakar roared and charged like a living avalanche, his massive axe crashing down with monstrous force.
CLANG!
Sparks exploded violently as Suyodhana blocked the blow.
The shockwave shattered the ground around them, sending dirt and stones flying.
Several princes gasped in shock.
The asura attacked again—faster, harder, each strike meant to crush bones.
Yet Suyodhana moved like flowing water, dodging, turning, countering with precise slashes.
The Veer Astra Blade carved glowing wounds across Krodhakar's thick hide, drawing black blood that sizzled on the earth.
The warlord howled in rage.
"You insect!"
He unleashed a burst of dark energy that slammed into Suyodhana like a battering ram, blasting him backward across the battlefield.
Dust and debris exploded upward in a choking cloud.
For one terrible heartbeat, silence fell.
The Kaurava princes felt their hearts drop into their stomachs.
Some cried out in horror.
Then the dust slowly cleared.
Suyodhana stood once more.
Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, staining his face crimson.
His armor was cracked in places.
But he was smiling—a fierce, determined smile that sent a shiver through every brother watching.
"Good," he said quietly, almost to himself.
"Now it feels like a real fight."
Something shifted in the air.
Fear in the young Kauravas' eyes slowly melted away, replaced by a burning pride they had never felt before.
Vikarna tightened his grip on his sword until his knuckles turned white.
"If Bharata Suyodhana can stand against a monster like that…"
Duhshasana's face split into a wild, fierce grin, blood already on his cheek from an earlier graze.
"Then we can slaughter the rest!"
With a unified roar that shook the burning village, the young princes charged back into the fray with renewed fury.
"FOR HASTINAPUR!"
Steel clashed louder.
Cries of pain mixed with shouts of defiance.
The lions of Hastinapur had tasted their first blood… and they were finally learning how to roar.
In the center of the chaos, Prince Suyodhana and the asura warlord Krodhakar collided again and again—like thunder meeting lightning—while Bhishma watched from above, a rare, quiet smile touching the old warrior's lips for the first time in centuries.
The night was young.
The battle had only just begun.
And the future of Hastinapur was being written in blood and courage.
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