Chapter 226: Chapter 224: New Skill: Mask Senses... 12 Battle General’s Of Pushpasura...
(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...
Guys I have decided to go with Karuppu as the next template. Is because I still feel I was not ready for other demi gods template. As my research on them were still proceeding.
But the point where mc need to gain the new template as arrived.
So I decided to go with a template which I feel easy.
Hope you support me and share your opinion.
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Standing upon the watchtower, Devaratha’s expression remained calm as he continued observing the endless sea of Rakshasas gathering beyond the forest.
To everyone around him, it appeared as though he was silently studying the enemy’s movements.
"...."
Only he knew...
His attention was divided.
Within his mind, the translucent blue interface of the System continued displaying countless abilities, treasures, formations, and divine artifacts that could be purchased using Karma Points.
[Current Karma Points: 45,000]
His gaze moved methodically through the seemingly endless list.
Most of the abilities were immediately dismissed.
Some enhanced his own physical strength.
Others increased spiritual power or granted temporary boosts during battle.
Ordinarily, they would have been excellent choices.
But this war was different.
Hanuman had already made one thing abundantly clear.
The battle against Pushpasura would not be decided by overwhelming strength.
It would become a war of endurance.
One hundred days.
That single number kept echoing inside his mind.
If he spent all his Karma Points making himself stronger...
The ordinary soldiers would still continue dying around him.
No matter how powerful a single warrior became...
He could not stand in every corner of the battlefield at once.
He needed something capable of influencing the battle itself.
Not merely himself.
His eyes continued moving through the System Store.
Ancient formations...
Divine talismans...
Protective barriers...
Battlefield blessings...
Then...
His fingers suddenly stopped.
One particular entry quietly rested among the countless options.
"Battlefield Skill"
[Mask Senses
Cost: 2,800 Karma Points
Description:
Creates a vast divine mist that spreads across a designated battlefield.
All enemies caught within the mist gradually lose their sensory perception.
Sight becomes unreliable.
Sound becomes distorted.
Smell becomes meaningless.
Spatial awareness deteriorates.
The stronger an opponent depends upon their natural senses during combat, the greater the effect becomes as time passes.
The creator may freely designate allies who remain completely unaffected by the mist.
Evaluation: Extremely Effective in Large-Scale Warfare...]
Devaratha read the description twice.
Then a third time.
His emerald eyes slowly narrowed.
"...Interesting."
The more he thought about it...
The more valuable the ability appeared.
Rakshasas possessed senses far superior to ordinary humans.
Their eyesight allowed them to hunt in darkness.
Their hearing detected movements from incredible distances.
Their sense of smell could track prey across forests.
Those heightened senses had always been one of their greatest advantages on the battlefield.
But...
Advantages could become weaknesses.
If those extraordinary senses were suddenly distorted...
The confusion among the Rakshasa ranks would be far greater than among ordinary human soldiers.
A human accustomed to limited perception could adapt.
A Rakshasa who relied upon every sound...
Every scent...
Every subtle vibration...
Would suddenly find the battlefield transformed into complete chaos.
He continued reading.
’The effects strengthen gradually over time.’
That sentence alone caught his full attention.
A prolonged battle.
An ability whose effectiveness increased the longer enemies remained inside it.
It almost seemed as though it had been designed specifically for a war like this.
Hanuman had spoken of surviving one hundred days.
This ability would not win the war.
But it could steadily tilt countless battles in their favor.
It would reduce casualties.
Disrupt enemy coordination.
And most importantly...
It would force Pushpasura’s commanders to fight without the senses they had depended upon their entire lives.
A faint smile appeared upon Devaratha’s face.
"This... is exactly what I was looking for."
Without another moment of hesitation, he mentally selected the skill.
[Purchase Confirmed...
2,800 Karma Points Deducted.
Remaining Karma Points: 42,200]
Golden light briefly shimmered within the System Interface.
The knowledge of the ability flowed directly into Devaratha’s consciousness.
He instinctively understood its range.
Its limitations. Its activation. Its control.
More importantly...
He immediately realized that he could decide precisely who would be affected and who would not.
His own soldiers.
The armies of Pushkarnya and Trivenivrata.
Even Hanuman, Ashwatthama, Karna, and Lord Parashurama when they arrived.
None of them would suffer even the slightest interference.
Only the enemy.
Devaratha slowly closed the System Interface.
The endless Rakshasa army still stretched across the horizon.
Nothing had changed.
Yet...
For the first time since seeing their overwhelming numbers...
He felt one of their greatest advantages had already begun slipping away.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"You may possess sharper senses than mankind..."
he thought quietly while looking toward the advancing Rakshasa legions.
"But on my battlefield... those very senses will become your greatest burden."
Meanwhile...
The endless ranks of the Rakshasa army suddenly began to part.
Like a dark ocean making way for its ruler, thousands of Rakshasas stepped aside in perfect discipline, lowering their weapons as a group slowly advanced toward the very front of the battlefield.
There were thirteen of them.
Walking at the center was Pushpasura himself.
His crimson eyes remained fixed upon the distant military camp of Pushkarnya, his lips carrying a confident smile.
Behind him walked twelve towering Rakshasas.
Six on his right.
Six on his left.
Every one of them radiated an overwhelming aura.
Unlike the ordinary Rakshasa soldiers surrounding them, these twelve were clad in armor forged from black demonic ore, etched with ancient runes that pulsed with blood-red light.
Each carried a weapon that had accompanied them through countless battles over the centuries.
They were not merely commanders.
They were the Battle Generals of Pushpasura’s Legion.
On his right marched.
Mahodanta, the General of the Iron Fangs, a massive Rakshasa wielding twin serrated greatswords capable of tearing through cavalry formations.
Beside him strode Vajrakeshin, whose body resembled black granite.
Armed with an enormous war hammer, he had crushed fortresses with brute force alone.
The third was Raktajihva, known as the Crimson Tongue, a terrifying warrior whose curved spear was said to drink the blood of every opponent it pierced.
Next came Krodhavakra, the Crooked Wrath, carrying a gigantic spiked mace that looked more like a siege weapon than something meant for a single warrior.
The fifth was Nishithanetra, whose pale silver eyes never blinked.
A master archer among the Rakshasas, his arrows rarely missed their prey.
Finally came Kapalaksha, the Skull-Eyed General, whose long black halberd was decorated with the skulls of kings he had slain during Pushpasura’s ancient conquests.
Walking to Pushpasura’s left were warriors no less terrifying.
Leading them was Meghadamshtra, the Storm Fang, a broad-shouldered Rakshasa wielding a colossal battle axe almost as tall as himself.
Beside him marched Ugrashira, whose four curved horns rose from his head like a crown. His weapon of choice was a massive trident engulfed in dark energy.
The third general was Shonitaksha, the Blood-Eyed Slayer, who carried two crescent-shaped blades forged for relentless close combat.
Next walked Dhumralochana, the Smoke-Eyed Butcher, whose chained iron sickles dragged across the ground with an eerie metallic screech.
The fifth was Kravyadanta, the Flesh Devourer, a towering Rakshasa carrying a gigantic cleaver that resembled an executioner’s blade.
The final general was Andhaketu, the Banner of Darkness.
Draped in a cloak woven from black feathers, he carried an unusually long spear whose obsidian blade shimmered with an unnatural violet glow.
These twelve were not merely officers.
They had fought beside Pushpasura long before his imprisonment.
They had conquered kingdoms in his name.
They had stood against celestial armies.
And unlike many Rakshasas who served out of fear...
These twelve followed Pushpasura out of absolute loyalty.
As they advanced together, the earth trembled beneath their synchronized footsteps.
The ordinary Rakshasa soldiers watched them with expressions of reverence.
For them...
These thirteen warriors were invincible.
Pushpasura slowly surveyed the distant walls and fortifications surrounding Malikavana.
A cold smile spread across his face.
"Today... another kingdom falls."
His crimson eyes gradually narrowed.
"But before that..."
His thoughts drifted toward a single face.
Emerald-green eyes.
Calm expression.
That infuriating smile.
The human king who had dared to mock him.
The memory alone caused the veins on Pushpasura’s forehead to bulge.
His fingers slowly tightened around the handle of his weapon.
"Devaratha..."
he muttered in a voice filled with murderous intent.
"I have not forgotten your words."
"I will make you regret every single one of them."
He let out a low, sinister chuckle.
"No..."
"I won’t kill you immediately."
"I’ll make sure you suffer first."
"Only after I’ve broken your pride... will I grant you the mercy of death."
Behind him, the twelve Battle Generals remained silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Each of them understood.
Their king was no longer marching merely to conquer Pushkarnya.
He was marching to settle a personal grudge.
And when Pushpasura desired someone’s death...
Entire kingdoms had burned in the past.
In his mind, Devaratha was simply another arrogant human whose fate had already been decided.
He never once considered...
That the young king waiting beyond the battlefield had already begun preparing for a war unlike anything the Rakshasa King had ever fought before.
Pushpasura slowly came to a halt at the head of his army.
Behind him, the twelve Battle Generals stood in disciplined formation, their weapons resting upon their shoulders as they silently awaited their king’s command.
None of them spoke. They had served Pushpasura long enough to recognize the expression on his face.
He was angry.
Not the blind rage of a beast.
But the cold, restrained fury of someone who had already decided how his enemies would die.
For several moments, Pushpasura simply looked toward the distant military camp where the banners of Pushkarnya and Trivenivrata fluttered side by side.
Then he spoke.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Yet every Rakshasa standing behind him could hear the anger hidden beneath every word.
"When the battle begins..."
"...I do not want my army granting these humans quick deaths."
The twelve generals remained perfectly still.
Pushpasura slowly turned around, allowing his crimson gaze to fall upon each of them one after another.
"They have dared to stand against me."
"They have dared to draw weapons against the army that once made the heavens tremble."
"If they wish to fight..."
"...then let them learn the price."
His expression gradually twisted into a cruel smile.
"Break their bodies."
"Crush their spirits."
"Let them watch their comrades die before their own eyes."
"I want every scream to echo across this battlefield."
"I want every soldier standing behind those walls to understand exactly what awaits anyone foolish enough to oppose Pushpasura."
The Rakshasa generals lowered their heads.
"As you command, my Lord."
Pushpasura’s gaze slowly drifted toward the allied camp once more.
His murderous intent intensified.
"There is one exception."
The twelve generals immediately looked up.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Pushpasura’s lips curled into a cold smile.
"The young mortal... named Devara."
The name itself seemed to irritate him.
"He belongs to me."
"No one is to interfere."
"No one is to strike the final blow."
"No one is to take his life."
He slowly tightened his grip around the handle of his weapon.
"I alone will kill him."
The memory of that infuriating smile...
Those mocking words about his height...
The calm confidence with which Devara had spoken...
Everything replayed within his mind.
Pushpasura’s voice became almost a growl.
"I will make him regret every breath he has taken since the day we met."
Behind him, Mahodanta was the first to bow.
"That mortal shall be left untouched until Your Majesty reaches him."
One after another, the remaining eleven generals also bowed.
"As Your Majesty commands."
Satisfied, Pushpasura turned back toward the battlefield.
Neither army moved.
Both sides simply watched one another across the vast stretch of open land.
Then...
A soldier from Pushkarnya climbed one of the signal towers.
In his hands was a long pole bearing a white banner embroidered with the ancient royal symbol used before every declared war.
A few moments later...
The Rakshasa army answered.
A similar white standard slowly rose above Pushpasura’s ranks.
Seeing both banners fluttering in the wind, neither army showed surprise.
This was an ancient custom.
Older than kingdoms.
Older than many dynasties.
Before the first arrow was released...
Before the first sword was drawn...
The leaders of both armies would meet.
Not to seek peace.
But to speak.
To state their intentions.
To give their opponents one final opportunity to withdraw.
Only after those formal words had been exchanged could war truly begin.
For to attack without offering that final council...
To strike without even acknowledging the enemy before battle...
Was considered
Such an act was not merely condemned by kings and sages.
It was believed to violate the sacred laws governing war itself.
The ancient scriptures declared that when Dharma was openly abandoned before a war had even begun, the
Pushpasura had no intention of allowing that.
He despised the gods.
But he was not foolish enough to hand them a reason to descend upon the battlefield.
He had waited centuries for this moment.
He would not allow arrogance to rob him of his advantage before the battle had even started.
A slow smile returned to his face.
"Let them come."
"We shall exchange our words ...and then..."
His crimson eyes glowed with terrifying anticipation as they settled upon the distant silhouette of the allied command.
"...the earth itself shall remember this war for ages to come."
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(Author note:)
I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea’s.
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