Chapter 227: Chapter 225: Talk Before War... Pushpasura’s Offer... Excluding Devara...
(A/N):
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The white banners of parley fluttered gently in the wind.
Across the vast plain separating the two armies, an uneasy silence settled over the battlefield.
Tens of thousands of soldiers stood with weapons in hand, yet not a single arrow was nocked nor a single blade raised.
Every warrior understood the significance of this moment.
Until the parley concluded...
The war had not officially begun.
From the allied camp, a small procession slowly emerged.
Leading them was Devaratha.
Behind him rode Ashwatthama upon his own chariot, followed by King Padmanabha Varma, the Crown Prince, Lord Hanuman, Shakuni, and the senior generals of both Pushkarnya and Trivenivrata.
None of them carried an aggressive posture, yet the combined presence of so many extraordinary warriors caused even the wind itself to grow still.
What attracted everyone’s attention, however, was not Devaratha...
It was the magnificent chariot beneath him.
The Vajravyaghra Rath.
A legendary chariot that had once belonged to Indrajith himself before becoming Devaratha’s by destiny.
Its body shimmered with a dark metallic brilliance, ancient celestial inscriptions glowing faintly across its frame.
Every wheel was wrapped in crackling streaks of blue lightning that danced along the rims before fading into the earth beneath them.
Pulling the chariot were four magnificent saber-toothed tigers.
Yet no ordinary beast could ever be mistaken for them.
Their bodies were forged from condensed astral essence, each movement leaving behind faint trails of blue-white lightning.
Their silver fangs gleamed like polished weapons,
While arcs of storm energy occasionally leapt between their paws whenever they stepped upon the ground.
Their golden eyes carried neither savagery nor fear.
Only absolute obedience toward the one holding their reins.
Even many Rakshasas found themselves staring at the divine beasts with visible caution.
Soon...
The allied delegation came to a stop at the agreed meeting ground.
A short while later...
The Rakshasa ranks also parted.
Pushpasura advanced toward the center, accompanied by his twelve Battle Generals.
Unlike the disciplined calm displayed by the allied commanders, the Rakshasa leaders walked with open arrogance, their overwhelming demonic aura spreading across the battlefield like an invisible tide.
When both sides finally stood facing one another...
The atmosphere became unbearably tense.
For several long moments...
No one spoke.
Pushpasura’s crimson eyes slowly wandered across the gathered commanders.
They paused briefly upon Ashwatthama.
Then King Padmanabha.
Then the Crown Prince.
Finally...
His gaze settled upon the towering Vanara standing calmly behind Devaratha.
Pushpasura frowned.
"...A Vanara?"
His lips curled into a mocking smile.
"So..."
"The humans have become so desperate that they now seek help from wandering forest monkeys?"
Several Rakshasa generals laughed loudly.
"What next?"
"Will squirrels join the battle as well?"
"Perhaps birds shall command their armies."
Laughter spread through the Rakshasa ranks.
Pushpasura looked Hanuman up and down before speaking again.
"You should leave while you still possess your limbs."
"This battlefield is no place for jungle creatures."
Hanuman quietly listened to every word.
Then...
A strange smile slowly appeared upon his face.
There was no anger.
No insult.
Only an amused glint hidden within his sapphire-blue eyes.
He simply looked at Pushpasura...
As though an adult were watching a child unknowingly boast before someone far stronger.
That smile...
For reasons Pushpasura could not explain...
Immediately irritated him.
His laughter faded.
His brows furrowed.
"...What are you smiling at?"
Hanuman merely chuckled.
-Chuckle!
"You’ll understand."
Nothing more. Nothing less.
The simple reply somehow irritated Pushpasura even further.
Clicking his tongue, he shifted his attention away from the Vanara.
His crimson eyes finally found the man he had been searching for.
Devaratha.
The young king stood beside his legendary chariot with one hand resting casually upon its railing.
His expression remained as calm as ever.
That infuriating calmness...
It reignited Pushpasura’s fury.
A cruel smile slowly spread across his face.
Without speaking a single word...
He slowly raised one finger.
Then pointed directly at Devaratha.
The meaning required no explanation.
’You. I will kill you.’
Not quickly. Not mercifully.
Painfully. Deliberately. Slowly.
Devaratha met his gaze without the slightest change in expression.
He neither accepted nor rejected the challenge.
He simply watched.
Behind Pushpasura, the twelve Battle Generals immediately understood the gesture.
Their lord had already chosen his prey.
So...
This human king... Was the one.
One after another, the twelve generals allowed their murderous aura to spill outward.
The pressure rolled toward Devaratha like a tidal wave.
It was not an attack. It was a declaration.
A warning.
The sheer killing intent would have been enough to make most warriors instinctively retreat.
Yet...
Devaratha did not even blink.
"...."
His emerald eyes remained steady.
His breathing never changed.
His heartbeat remained perfectly calm.
Seeing their combined killing intent fail to produce even the slightest reaction, several Rakshasa generals narrowed their eyes.
’Interesting... No wonder our king wishes to kill him personally.’
The tense silence stretched across the battlefield once more.
Then King Padmanabha Varma took a single step forward.
Since the war was to be fought upon the soil of Pushkarnya...
The responsibility of opening the parley belonged to him.
He stood tall before the assembled Rakshasas, his royal robes swaying gently in the wind as every soldier from both armies turned their full attention toward the King.
The ancient custom had begun.
The next words spoken would decide whether peace remained even the slightest possibility...
Or whether the plains of Malikavana would soon be stained with the blood of two great armies.
For several moments, neither side uttered a single word.
The wind swept across the battlefield, carrying with it the banners of two kingdoms and the black standards of the Rakshasa legion.
Thousands upon thousands of eyes remained fixed upon the small group standing between the two armies.
"...."
"...."
"...."
This was no ordinary conversation.
It was an ancient ritual observed since time immemorial.
Before blood was shed...
Before the first weapon was raised...
Both sides would speak their final words.
Only then would Dharma recognize the war as just.
King Padmanabha Varma slowly stepped forward.
His posture remained straight, his gaze unwavering as he looked directly into the crimson eyes of Pushpasura.
The fear that had once briefly crossed his heart when the Rakshasa King first awakened had long since disappeared.
He was no longer speaking as a worried father.
Nor as a frightened man.
He spoke as the King of Pushkarnya.
His voice rang clearly across the plains.
"Pushpasura."
"You stand upon the sacred soil of Pushkarnya with an army that has slaughtered my people, desecrated my villages, and awakened terror across my kingdom."
"The laws of Dharma still grant you one final opportunity."
"Withdraw your army."
"Leave my kingdom."
"Return to whatever darkness you emerged from."
He paused, allowing his words to carry across the battlefield.
"If you choose to ignore this final warning..."
"...then know that the armies of Pushkarnya and Trivenivrata shall stand together."
"We shall resist you with every warrior we possess."
"And upon this very land... you shall lose your life."
The battlefield became silent.
Then...
Pushpasura threw his head back and burst into laughter.
"Hahahahahaha!"
His booming laughter echoed across the plains like rolling thunder.
Behind him, the twelve Rakshasa Battle Generals also began laughing.
Some shook their heads.
Others openly smirked.
To them, Padmanabha Varma’s warning sounded less like a declaration of war and more like an amusing joke.
Mahodanta leaned toward Vajrakeshin with a grin.
"Did you hear that?"
"They intend to kill our lord."
Vajrakeshin laughed loudly.
"-Hahaha!!!"
"They cannot even count the size of our army, yet they speak of victory."
Even Pushpasura wiped away a tear of amusement.
"Human King..."
he said while struggling to suppress another laugh like it was the most difficult thing to do.
"You possess admirable courage."
"Unfortunately... Courage has never been enough to defeat me."
The Rakshasa ranks erupted into mocking laughter all around not taking the warning issued seriously.
On the allied side...
The Crown Prince’s jaw tightened.
"...."
His fingers instinctively closed around the concealed hilt of the short sword hidden beneath his sleeve.
Every insult directed toward his father burned within him.
Mocking a father before their son is the worst thing the son could experience.
Had this not been a formal parley protected by the laws of Dharma...
He would have already drawn his blade.
Ashwatthama quietly noticed the movement but said nothing.
His own eyes remained fixed upon Pushpasura.
Then...
A single pair of footsteps broke the silence.
Devaratha calmly walked forward until he stood beside King Padmanabha Varma.
The laughter gradually faded.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Pushpasura’s crimson eyes slowly shifted toward him.
The smile upon his face disappeared.
Once again, the two stood face to face.
One was the Rakshasa King who had once challenged the heavens.
The other was the young monarch who had repeatedly crossed his path since his awakening.
Neither looked away. Neither blinked.
The silence between them felt heavier than the presence of the armies behind them.
Finally...
Devaratha spoke.
Unlike Padmanabha Varma’s royal declaration...
His voice was quiet.
Calm.
Yet every word carried an undeniable certainty.
"You should listen."
Pushpasura narrowed his eyes.
Devaratha continued with a firm tone.
"King Padmanabha Varma has given you an opportunity."
"It is the last one you will receive."
He slowly met Pushpasura’s crimson gaze.
A cold glint appeared within his emerald eyes.
"If you refuse... then prepare yourself."
His expression remained completely composed.
"Because the next... one hundred and one days... will be the worst days of your life."
The battlefield fell utterly silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The mocking smiles vanished from the faces of the Rakshasa generals.
Pushpasura himself did not laugh.
Instead...
His expression slowly hardened.
For the first time since arriving at the battlefield...
A trace of genuine surprise appeared in his eyes.
’One hundred and one days.’
Not one hundred. Not an uncertain threat.
Exactly...
One hundred and one.
The implication behind those words was unmistakable.
The human standing before him...
Knew.
He knew about the boon.
He knew that Pushpasura could not be slain during the first hundred days.
He even knew the condition required to end it.
Pushpasura’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
"So..."
he said slowly.
"You know."
There was no longer any amusement in his voice.
Only curiosity.
And a growing sense of unease.
Because despite knowing the nature of his boon...
Despite understanding exactly what awaited them...
Neither fear nor hesitation could be found in Devaratha’s eyes.
Instead...
The young king stood before him with the quiet confidence of a man who had already decided how those one hundred and one days would end.
The silence left by Devaratha’s warning lingered across the battlefield.
Neither army moved.
The wind carried the fluttering banners of Pushkarnya, Trivenivrata, and the Rakshasa Legion, yet no soldier dared utter a single word.
Pushpasura continued staring at Devaratha.
His crimson eyes searched the young king’s face, almost trying to determine whether those words had been spoken out of courage... or genuine confidence.
After several moments...
The Rakshasa King suddenly laughed.
It was not the mocking laughter from earlier.
It was calmer.
Filled with arrogance.
"Hahaha..."
"So..."
"You know about my boon."
He slowly nodded to himself.
"I was wondering where that confidence of yours came from."
The corners of his lips rose into a cruel smile.
"But knowledge alone changes nothing."
His voice echoed across the battlefield as he looked beyond Devaratha toward the armies standing behind him.
"You humans continue to misunderstand one thing."
"You believe numbers decide wars."
"You believe courage decides wars."
"You even believe Dharma alone can save you."
He slowly spread both arms wide as though embracing the countless Rakshasas gathered behind him.
"Look around you."
"My army grows with every passing hour."
"My generals have conquered kingdoms long before your grandfathers were born."
"My soldiers do not fear death."
"And I... grow stronger with every sunrise."
His smile widened.
"So today..."
"I shall show mercy."
The unexpected words caused many commanders to narrow their eyes.
Pushpasura slowly looked across the allied leaders.
King Padmanabha.
The Crown Prince.
Ashwatthama.
Shakuni.
The assembled generals.
Even Hanuman, whom he still believed to be nothing more than an unusually confident Vanara.
"I offer every one of you a choice."
His voice carried effortlessly across the plains.
"Kneel."
"Lay down your weapons."
"Accept me as your sovereign."
"Come beneath my wings."
"I shall spare your lives."
He slowly raised one hand toward the vast Rakshasa army behind him.
"You shall retain your lands."
"Your people shall continue to live."
"Your kingdoms will become part of my empire."
"And those who swear loyalty... shall be rewarded."
Several Rakshasa generals smiled proudly.
To them, this was not generosity.
It was the greatest honor a lesser race could hope to receive.
Pushpasura folded his hands behind his back.
"I am giving you an opportunity that no king before you has ever received."
"Do not throw it away because of pride."
For a brief moment...
The battlefield became completely silent.
Then...
Pushpasura’s gaze slowly shifted.
"...."
Until it settled upon a single man.
Devaratha.
The smile disappeared from his face.
He slowly lifted one clawed finger.
Pointing directly at the young King of Trivenivrata.
"Except... him."
Every eye immediately turned toward Devaratha.
Pushpasura’s voice became ice cold.
"The offer does not include that mortal."
"He has forfeited every right to mercy."
"He mocked me."
"He challenged me."
"He dared to stand before me without fear."
His crimson eyes glowed with murderous intent.
"No one else is permitted to kill him."
"No one else is permitted to touch him."
"He..."
Pushpasura pointed once more at Devaratha.
"...belongs to me."
"I shall personally tear the life from his body."
"I shall make him regret every word that has ever left his mouth."
"Only after I have broken his body..."
"...his spirit..."
"...and his hope..."
"...will I allow him to die."
The twelve Rakshasa Battle Generals lowered their heads in acknowledgment.
"As our Lord commands."
The declaration rolled across the battlefield like thunder.
Yet...
On the allied side...
Nothing changed.
No one panicked. No one stepped back.
Instead...
Hanuman quietly scratched his cheek, looking almost disappointed.
Ashwatthama simply folded his arms.
King Padmanabha remained standing with the dignity expected of a ruler.
The Crown Prince’s grip around the concealed sword at his wrist tightened, but his expression remained controlled.
As for Devaratha...
He merely looked at Pushpasura with the same calm expression he had worn since the beginning of the parley.
There was no anger.
No fear.
No excitement.
Only complete composure.
Seeing that unchanged expression...
Pushpasura felt a faint irritation rise within him once again.
It was the same expression.
The one that made him feel as though his threats carried no weight.
As though the man standing before him had already accepted every consequence and still refused to yield.
And for reasons he could not explain...
That calmness irritated him far more than any insult ever could.
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(Author note:)
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