Chapter 213: Chapter 211: Catching The Rat’s... Strike Without Any Mercy...
(A/N):
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Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...
Guys with this Chapter Volume 10 is completed... From Next Chapter Volume 11: 100 Days War begins...
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As the last traces of the black mist disappeared into the night sky, an eerie silence settled over the battlefield.
The oppressive aura that had weighed upon everyone’s hearts was gone.
Yet no one felt relieved.
The lifeless husks scattered around the shattered ritual circle served as a grim reminder of what they had just witnessed.
Devaratha slowly lowered Rudhirabhra.
With a faint golden shimmer, the divine axe dissolved into countless specks of light before disappearing from his hand.
The translucent golden barrier surrounding him, King Padmanabha Varma, and the Crown Prince gradually faded away as well.
"...."
"...."
"...."
For several moments, no one spoke.
Every soldier present was still trying to comprehend everything that had unfolded.
Finally, Devaratha broke the silence.
He turned toward King Padmanabha Varma.
"Your Majesty."
His voice was calm, yet carried a gravity that caused both the King and the Crown Prince to focus entirely upon him.
"You must begin preparing your army immediately."
The King frowned hearing it he just thought their fight has finished.
"The enemy we face is no longer a handful of traitors."
"It is an Asura."
"If necessary, send word to your capital."
"Call every available soldier."
"Summon every commander."
"Recall every patrol stationed along your borders."
He paused before continuing.
"A war is about to descend upon this land."
The King’s expression grew solemn.
"...."
Devaratha’s emerald eyes remained fixed upon him.
"You will not face it alone."
"The Kingdom of Trivenivrata will stand beside Pushkarnya."
"We shall fight this war together."
Those words carried far greater weight than a simple promise.
They were a king’s pledge.
King Padmanabha Varma slowly nodded.
"I understand."
He immediately turned toward the Crown Prince.
"Go."
"Dispatch the royal pigeons at once."
"Send an emergency decree to the capital."
"Order the Council of Ministers to place the entire kingdom on war footing."
"Mobilize every regiment."
"Tell the generals to begin preparing the city’s defenses immediately."
The Crown Prince struck his fist against his chest in salute.
"As you command, Father."
Without another word, he sprinted toward the command post where the royal messengers and carrier pigeons were stationed.
Only after watching his son disappear into the distance did King Padmanabha Varma turn back toward Devaratha.
This time...
His eyes no longer held suspicion.
Only respect.
The respect one king earned from another through his actions rather than his title.
He brought his palms together respectfully.
"King Devaratha..."
Before he could continue...
A quiet chuckle interrupted him.
Devaratha smiled hearing king’s words.
"Your Majesty..."
"There is no need for such formality between us."
The King looked at him in surprise.
Devaratha continued with the same warm smile.
"Simply call me Devara."
"It is the name by which my friends know me."
King Padmanabha Varma remained silent for a moment before a faint smile finally appeared on his face.
"Very well..."
"...Devara."
The smile soon faded as the weight of everything that had happened returned.
His expression became serious.
"Tell me."
"What is truly happening?"
"Everything changed within a single night."
"My own brother betrayed me."
"A forbidden ritual was performed."
"And now..."
He looked toward the shattered ritual ground.
"...a being calling itself Pushpasura has awakened."
"What exactly are we facing?"
The two kings slowly began walking back toward Queen Devaki’s tent as soldiers all around them started securing the battlefield.
The remaining traitors were being rounded up.
The wounded were carried away for treatment.
The dead were given the dignity they deserved.
As they walked, Devaratha finally answered.
"The entity that spoke to us earlier..."
"...is Pushpasura."
"He is an ancient Asura."
"A powerful one."
"He has remained in deep slumber for countless years."
King Padmanabha Varma listened without interrupting.
"Your brother, Vikrama Varma... and the tribesmen who worshipped Pushpasura as their god..."
"They were never acting alone."
"They spent years searching for a way to awaken him."
"They believed they could gain power in exchange for their loyalty."
Devaratha briefly glanced toward the withered remains scattered around the ritual site.
"They learned too late that an Asura does not reward devotion."
"He rewards usefulness."
"And once that usefulness ends... So does the devotee."
The King slowly lowered his gaze.
"So the flowers... The flowers surrounding Malikavana Village were not ordinary?"
Devaratha nodded seeing the king catches up.
"No."
"They were a natural seal."
"For generations, the sacred flowers blooming throughout Malikavana weakened Pushpasura’s influence and kept his consciousness buried beneath this land."
"The villagers unknowingly lived above an ancient prison."
"The tribesmen slowly corrupted that seal. By destroying the flowers from time to time."
"And tonight..."
"They succeeded in awakening the prisoner sleeping beneath it. For some reason for it princess blood is needed."
The King inhaled deeply.
"Then our battle is no longer merely for Pushkarnya."
Devaratha shook his head.
"No."
"If Pushpasura is allowed to recover his full strength..."
"He will not stop with this kingdom."
His voice became noticeably heavier.
"He will spread across Bhuloka."
"Every kingdom. Every village. Every innocent life."
"They will all become prey."
"That is why I came to Malikavana."
"I was never here merely for the festival."
"I came because I believed Pushpasura’s followers were preparing to awaken him."
The King finally understood.
Everything.
The strange questions.
The careful observations.
The seemingly coincidental arrival of Devaratha.
None of it had been coincidence.
As they approached Queen Devaki’s tent, Devaratha slowed his pace.
"Our immediate priority is no longer the battlefield."
King Padmanabha Varma looked toward him.
"First..."
"We must evacuate Malikavana Village."
"Every civilian. Every pilgrim. Every merchant."
"No one can remain here."
The King nodded in agreement.
-Nod!
Devaratha’s expression remained serious.
"And before the evacuation begins..."
"We must root out the remaining followers of Pushpasura."
He looked toward the thousands of visitors who had come to celebrate the festival.
"They did not come alone."
"The tribesmen and Vikrama Varma hid their followers among the crowds."
"They are still here."
"If we allow them to scatter..."
"They will carry Pushpasura’s influence far beyond Malikavana."
His emerald eyes hardened.
"So before dawn... We hunt every last one of them."
King Padmanabha Varma wasted no time.
The moment he understood the gravity of the situation, he turned toward the commanders assembled around him.
His voice carried across the camp with the authority of a ruler who no longer had room for hesitation.
"Hear my command!"
Every officer immediately knelt.
"Seal every entrance and exit leading into and out of Malikavana Village."
"Not a single person is to leave without being inspected."
"Deploy patrols to every street, every marketplace, every shrine, and every temporary camp."
"Search every tent and every wagon."
"Leave no place unchecked."
The commanders saluted.
"As Your Majesty commands!"
Within moments, hundreds of royal guards spread throughout Malikavana Village.
The peaceful festival grounds that had been filled with music and celebration only hours earlier were now under military control.
Searches began immediately.
Every visitor.
Every merchant.
Every pilgrim.
Every performer.
Every laborer.
Every single person’s forearms were inspected.
The order was simple.
Anyone found bearing the black skull tattoo was to be treated as an enemy of the kingdom.
No exceptions.
The first traitor was discovered attempting to hide among a group of traveling merchants.
The moment his sleeve was pulled back, the black skull tattoo was revealed.
The surrounding guards reacted without hesitation.
The traitor reached for a concealed dagger.
He never managed to draw it.
A sword flashed.
His body collapsed onto the ground.
Soon...
Another was found hiding among the stable hands.
Then another disguised as a wandering monk.
Another concealed himself within a family of pilgrims, pretending to be their relative.
Each time the skull mark was uncovered... The result was the same.
Swift justice.
As more executions took place throughout the village, panic quickly spread among the civilians.
Mothers hurriedly pulled their children behind them.
Merchants abandoned their stalls.
Pilgrims looked around in fear as royal guards moved from person to person, inspecting their forearms.
Some began whispering anxiously.
"Why are they killing people?"
"What is happening?"
"Has the kingdom fallen?"
Seeing the growing unrest, the Crown Prince climbed onto the stone platform beside the village’s sacred festival pavilion.
Drawing in a deep breath, he projected his voice across the crowd.
"People of Malikavana!"
The frightened murmurs gradually subsided.
"I understand your fear."
"But listen to me carefully."
His gaze swept across the gathering.
"The men being executed are not innocent villagers."
"They are enemies who secretly infiltrated Malikavana Village."
"They came here under false identities."
"They used our sacred festival as a disguise while plotting to destroy this kingdom."
The crowd fell silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The Crown Prince continued.
"They sought to murder the royal family."
"They performed forbidden rituals."
"They intended to bring disaster upon every man, woman, and child living in this land."
He slowly raised one arm.
"If you discover anyone bearing a black skull tattoo upon either forearm... they are one of the infiltrators."
"It does not matter whether they claim to be your friend..."
"...your neighbor..."
"...or even your own relative."
His voice became firm railing the citizens.
"They are enemies of Pushkarnya."
"Report them to the royal guards immediately."
"Do not attempt to hide them."
"Do not aid them."
"Your cooperation today will save the lives of countless innocent people."
The villagers exchanged uneasy glances.
Then...
An elderly village head stepped forward.
His weathered face trembled with anger.
"They... used our festival?"
Another elder clenched his fists.
"This festival has been sacred to our ancestors for generations."
"They desecrated it?"
A middle-aged woman looked toward the bloodstained camp where the battle had taken place.
"They brought death into Malikavana... They endangered our children..."
The fear that had filled the villagers’ hearts slowly transformed into outrage.
One after another, the native residents stepped forward.
"We’ll help."
"My family knows every alley in this village."
"They cannot hide from us."
"If they have dishonored our sacred festival... they will answer for it."
Before long, the villagers themselves joined the search.
Men searched abandoned houses.
Women inspected the temporary lodgings prepared for travelers.
Young men who knew every hidden path through the forests guided the royal soldiers to places outsiders would never have discovered on their own.
The net around the remaining conspirators tightened rapidly.
Realizing that the villagers had turned against them, the surviving followers of Pushpasura grew desperate.
Some attempted to flee through the surrounding forests.
Archers stationed along the perimeter brought them down before they had gone far.
Others hid beneath supply wagons or inside grain stores.
They were dragged out by villagers who recognized unfamiliar faces pretending to belong to their communities.
Several attempted to remove or burn away the skull tattoo from their forearms.
The hastily scarred flesh only confirmed their identities.
One by one...
Every hiding place was uncovered.
Every escape route was sealed.
Every infiltrator was exposed.
By the time the eastern horizon began showing the faintest hint of dawn, the conspiracy that had spent years spreading its roots beneath Malikavana Village had been uprooted almost entirely.
The sacred festival grounds, once chosen by Pushpasura’s followers as the birthplace of their master’s return, had instead become the place where their hidden network was systematically destroyed.
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(Author note:)
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