Chapter 89 The Asura King's Ascension

"Have I ever lied to you?" Hayagriva's voice carried an edge of authority, his unblinking eyes locking onto Madhu and Kaitambha.

Madhu scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, while Kaitambha shuffled uncomfortably, avoiding Hayagriva's penetrating gaze.

"You? Lie?" Madhu started, his voice trailing off into an awkward chuckle. "No, no. But—"

"But what?" Hayagriva cut him off sharply, his nostrils flaring. A snort escaped, sending twin streams of white vapor slicing the air.

"If I hadn't hauled you both out of the Milk Sea and dragged you to Patalaloka, you'd still be circling the shores, claiming north was south and east was wherever your nose pointed!"

Kaitambha's cheeks flushed. "That was one time!"

"One time?!" Hayagriva's exasperation deepened, his fiery glare making the air around them feel heavier. "I had to rescue you from the same cave three times in a single night because you couldn't find the exit!"

"I never lie," he thundered, his words as unyielding as the mountains. The brothers exchanged sheepish glances, but neither dared to argue.

Madhu and Kaitambha, visibly moved by his words, pursed their lips and nodded firmly. They understood the gravity of Hayagriva's actions.

"I will make an ultimate plan to take revenge on Vishnu. For that, we have to take the position of Asura King for the good of our cause!" Hayagriva continued, his voice filled with conviction. Only by doing this can we complete our grand plan."

"For our grand plan!" Madhu and Kaitambha repeated in unison, their eyes burning with a renewed sense of purpose.

Hayagriva's demeanor softened as he placed his hands on their shoulders, a reassuring smile on his face. He patted them gently, offering both comfort and encouragement.

At the sound of his words, the brothers felt a surge of excitement despite not fully knowing the details of the plan. Their hearts beat with fiery anticipation, and a shared passion rose within them.

"For our grand plan!" they shouted together, their voices filled with determination.

The two brothers hefted their maces onto their shoulders, their steps full of confidence and resolve. They marched out of the palace, ready to defend it and carry out whatever tasks lay ahead.

"Finally, they're gone... hehehe~" Hayagriva's eyes narrowed as he watched them disappear into the distance. A sly smile spread across his face, and he couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.

His body shook with laughter, the sound echoing through the empty hall. The dark, sacred temple—hidden at the heart of the earth—stood still as if listening to the vibrations of his mirth. It was here, in the center of the earth, where Mandala Mountain connected to the core, that one could merge their essence with the land itself.

The temple was a nexus of power, and Hayagriva felt the flow of energy surge through him.

"The power of the Asura King... the power of the Patalaloka..." Hayagriva murmured to himself, his voice a whisper of awe and power.

His will spread outward like ripples in a pond, his essence touching the very soul of the earth.

Boom!

The ground rumbled beneath him, and the earth's energy flowed into his body, binding him with an ancient strength. The earth, now his ally, responded to his will, and with it, Hayagriva's power began to grow.

Ah~

Hayagriva tilted his head back, unable to suppress a deep, satisfactory moan as the power surged through him. His mane rippled with the force, and he reveled in the sensation of strength flooding his body.

With this power...

The final gap in his abilities had been filled.

As the energy of the earth continuously poured into him, his power grew beyond anything he could have imagined. Now, not only could he launch more powerful attacks, but he could fire them relentlessly. Ten arrows, one hundred, or even a thousand—nothing was beyond his reach.

This was no mere upgrade; his ultimate attack had become nothing more than a basic skill, a simple part of his arsenal.

"I could reign for a thousand years!" The horse-headed Danava declared with fierce determination, clenching his fists tightly.

BOOM!

Boom!

A series of deafening explosions rattled the ground. Thunder cracked through the air as the earth shook beneath his feet. Deep fissures spread across the landscape, rippling outward like the strands of a spider's web. The sound of battle was unmistakable—fierce, brutal, and unrelenting.

Hayagriva stretched out his right hand, feeling the air vibrate with power.

Uh-huh!

In an instant, a black divine bow materialized in his grasp. Gripping it with practiced ease, he strode out of the Asura Temple and approached the entrance, his presence commanding the space around him.

Above, in the sky, the Asura generals hovered like ominous specters. Ploman, Viprachitti, and Nishumbha had gathered, surrounding Madhu and Kaitambha in a relentless siege.

The two brothers, undeterred, roared in defiance. They clapped their palms together, and in an instant, their bodies spun with terrifying speed.

Gale-force winds howled as their rotations sent shockwaves through the air. A series of black hurricanes tore through the battlefield, a swirling vortex of destruction that pulled in numerous Asuras, shredding them to pieces as the winds carried them away.

Puloman's expression darkened with alarm. His body flickered, and he called upon his Maya to create thousands of phantom copies of himself, retreating rapidly to avoid being consumed by the storm.

Boom!

With a single, decisive motion, Hayagriva loosed a black arrow from his bow. It cut through the void with precision, a streak of deadly energy that sliced the air. The arrow found its target and, in an instant, appeared directly in front of Puloman's true form, its destructive force cutting through the illusions and locking onto him.

The battle was far from over, but Hayagriva was ready. His power had reached its peak, and now, nothing could stand in his way.

Puloman's eyes widened in shock as he whirled around, desperately attempting to evade the deadly arrow.

But it was too late.

The black arrow, swift as a streak of light, cut through the air and struck with pinpoint accuracy. A deafening bang echoed as it tore through Puloman's body.

Boom!!!

In an instant, Puloman's lower body exploded, disintegrating into a gory cloud of flesh and bone.

The Asura generals froze, their collective breath caught in their throats.

Viprachitti and Nishmubha's faces paled in disbelief, their eyes widening with alarm. The rest of the generals looked on in sheer horror, their gazes darting toward the temple, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

One arrow... had obliterated most of Puloman's body.

Impossible...

The world seemed to hold its breath as Hayagriva's footsteps echoed steadily, each step reverberating with power. He approached the broken form of Puloman, who was still gasping for air, struggling to stay alive.

Hayagriva loomed over him, his expression one of casual amusement. He tilted his head down and sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yo~"

"Isn't this Puloman, the king of Danvas? Alas, you aren't the strongest in the Danavas anymore. I was just planning to shoot anyone at random to show off my new power, but I didn't expect it to be you." His grin widened as he continued, "And look at you... still alive. You're really lucky, aren't you?"

He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a mocking tone. "But I'm feeling generous today. I'll spare your life. Hahahaha!"

Laughing heartily, Hayagriva turned on his heel, stepping over Puloman's broken form without a second glance. He strode forward with confidence, his divine bow still gripped tightly in his hand.

Madhu and Kaitambha landed with precision on either side of him, their imposing figures flanking the new King Asura. Hayagriva glanced to his left and right, only to find himself growing irritable.

The two brothers stood there, completely unaware of their lack of presence. How could they not see it? Hayagriva thought bitterly. They're standing next to me as if they're on equal footing. Do they not understand their place?

He suppressed his frustration with a sharp snort.

He was King of Patalapuri now, and these two were merely his subordinates—nothing more.

Still, there was a use for them, for now.

Hayagriva turned his gaze back to the Asura generals before him. Their faces were a mix of confusion, surprise, and apprehension. Some of them looked downright shocked, while others appeared doubtful, as if struggling to accept what had just happened.

Not long ago, the position of Asura King had been held by Prahlada.

And now? In the blink of an eye, it had all changed.

Why? How?

Hayagriva's presence alone was enough to silence any questions. The throne of the Asura King was now his, and no one would dare challenge him.

Even if Prahlada had been caught off guard, there should have been some sort of resistance—some sign of a struggle—but there was nothing like that now. The sudden power shift was unsettling, as if the throne of Asura had been claimed without much resistance.

And the new King... was a horse-headed figure, someone who hadn't been seen in ages. The change was so abrupt, so strange.

The Asura generals were confused, their minds racing to process the scene before them.

"I, Hayagriva, will be the King of Patala from now on!" His voice rang out, commanding and unyielding.

He scanned the crowd, his gaze sharp and full of authority. "Do any of you have objections?"

The generals stood frozen, their silence a clear indication of their hesitation.

A smirk curled at the corners of Hayagriva's mouth, his eyes glinting with superiority. "Hmph! Now that you see your new King, why don't you kneel?"

With a swift movement, he raised his divine bow, his presence suffocating the room. His voice boomed louder, echoing through the temple.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The Asura generals, as if caught in some invisible force, scrambled to obey. The once pristine, orange sacrificial robes were torn from their bodies as they hastily tore them off in submission. The sound of fabric ripping filled the air, and bits of cloth fluttered in every direction.

In moments, many of the Asura generals were left half-naked, kneeling on the ground, heads bowed in reverence.

"All Hail Hayagriva!" they chanted in unison, their voices trembling with both fear and respect.

"All honor to Hayagriva, the Conqueror!"

...

Voices echoed in rapid succession, filling the air with a sense of awe and tension. Hayagriva's mane whipped in the wind, his gaze sweeping over the scene before him.

At this moment, in addition to Madhu and Kaitambha standing proudly at his sides, there was Puloman, barely clinging to life, sprawled on the ground. The remaining Asura generals were all kneeling, their heads bowed in complete submission.

A surge of power rushed through him, a feeling so overwhelming that it was intoxicating.

This... this is what it means to be Asura King.

Cool.

"Hahahaha!" Hayagriva threw his head back and laughed, a deep, booming sound that reverberated through the temple.

The taste of power was sweet, sweeter than anything he had ever experienced. Now, he understood why so many sought the throne.

The sight of the strongest in Patala, on their knees, humbled before him, filled him with a perverse satisfaction. The way they bowed, their arrogance crushed and replaced with reverence... they were like obedient mares. It was a sight that made his heart swell with pride.

A true feeling of achieving something in his life. This was the feeling he had been chasing, and now that he had it, it was even better than he had imagined.

But there were still matters to address.

His laughter faded, and he wiped the smile from his face. He shook his head slightly before raising his voice once more, firm and commanding.

"Next, all of you," Hayagriva declared, his voice a thunderous command that brooked no defiance. "Come forward and prove your loyalty!"

The Asura generals froze in place, the weight of his words sending a ripple of unease through their ranks. They exchanged wary glances, unsure of the ritual or its implications.

But then, one figure rose.

Nishumbha, the once-proud warlord of Patalaloka, stepped forward. His movements were deliberate, each stride cutting through the tension like a blade. The dark cloak draped over his massive frame billowed out, trailing behind him like a river of shadows.

Without hesitation, Nishumbha approached Hayagriva. When he was within reach, the great warrior dropped to his knees, the sound of his fall resounding like a thunderclap in the hushed temple. He bowed his head low, his long hair spilling across the cold stone floor, and with both hands, he lifted Hayagriva's foot above his head.

The gesture was unmistakable—a complete surrender, an acknowledgment of Hayagriva's supremacy.

"Praise to King Asura!" Nishumbha proclaimed, his deep voice resonating with conviction. "Praise to Hayagriva, the Supreme Sovereign!"

The other generals, shaken but inspired by Nishumbha's submission, scrambled to follow. One by one, they approached, each kneeling and lifting Hayagriva's foot to their heads in a ceremonial act of loyalty. Their collective chants began to fill the hall, growing louder and more fervent:

"Praise to Hayagriva!"

"Praise to the King of Patalaloka!"

The temple pulsed with their voices, the echoes bouncing off the walls as if the very realm acknowledged its new ruler. Hayagriva stood above them all, his smirk widening as he surveyed the scene of total submission. His triumph was complete.

A few days later...

Hayagriva sat upon his grand throne in the depths of Patalaloka, the flickering torches casting shadows across the gilded walls of his palace. In his hand was a scroll, its worn parchment filled with the chronicles of Hiranyaksha and Hiranyakashipu.

His piercing gaze traced each word with increasing incredulity. As he read further, his lips curled into a smirk that teetered between amusement and contempt.

"So... Hiranyaksha," he began, his voice laced with mockery, "the mighty warrior who thought he could outmatch the cosmos itself... fell to Vishnu in the guise of a boar? A boar?" He let out a dry laugh, the sound echoing through the hall.

"And Hiranyakashipu..." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. "The self-proclaimed immortal. The one who could not be killed by man, beast, weapon, or even time itself... torn apart by Vishnu's claws? What a sight that must have been."

Hayagriva leaned back, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the armrest of his throne as he allowed the words to sink in. His smirk deepened, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Two brothers, hailed as pillars of the Asura race, reduced to stories of failure and folly. One was slain by a beast, the other by a half-man, half-lion avatar."

He rose from his throne, his massive form towering over the hall. The scroll dangled in his hand like a trinket, a mockery of the mighty history it was meant to preserve. He strode toward the balcony, his steps deliberate, each footfall resounding with authority.

"And then there's Indra," he sneered, spitting the name like venom. "The so-called king of the Svarga, hiding behind Vishnu's avatars, always letting someone else fight his battles."

He tossed the scroll onto the marble floor, the brittle parchment scattering into fragments. His eyes burned with a fiery intensity as he stared out at the sprawling expanse of Patalaloka, his kingdom now his to rule.

"I suppose I should thank you, Vishnu," he said, his voice heavy with mockery. "You've cleared the way for me, eliminating the fools who thought they could challenge the Devas without foresight or strength." He chuckled, a sound devoid of mirth. "But don't think I'll fall for your little tricks so easily."

Hayagriva raised his arms, his presence filling the chamber with an oppressive aura. "You may have slain them, Vishnu, but I am not an idiot like them. I am Hayagriva! I will not be outwitted by your guises or your cowardly ally, Indra. The Asura race will not cower before the Svarga any longer."

His booming voice reverberated across the temple, shaking its very foundation. The torches flared violently, their flames dancing wildly as if in response to his fury.

"This time," he declared, his tone sharp and unyielding, "it will be the Devas who kneel. And you, Vishnu, will know the wrath of me, Asura King, Hayagriva, who learns from his mistakes."

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