Journey to the Land of Justice

The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues over the endless stretch of the desert. Arya, Vaishnavi, and Sachin rode on their celestial steeds, their eyes fixed on the horizon where Dwaraka, the fabled city of justice, awaited them. The air crackled with divine energy, a testament to the city's sacred presence.

As they approached, the first sign of civilization emerged—a massive stone gateway inscribed with the words:

"Justice is the blade that cuts through deception, yet mercy is the hand that wields it."

Sachin, adjusting the hilt of his sword, let out a low whistle.

Sachin: "Dwaraka sure knows how to make an entrance. I bet their laws are stricter than a monk's vow of silence."

Vaishnavi, seated behind Arya on his steed, nodded thoughtfully.

Vaishnavi: "It's not just about laws. This city was founded by those who believed justice was divine—not just a rule, but a way of life."

Arya remained silent, his eyes scanning the towering golden walls that shimmered under the sun. He could already sense something deeper—an undercurrent of tension hidden beneath the grandeur.

As they reached the entrance, rows of armored guards stood at attention, their spears gleaming under the sunlight. Their leader, a stern-faced warrior with a silver crest on his helmet, stepped forward.

Guard Captain: "State your names and purpose in Dwaraka!"

Arya dismounted and met the captain's gaze without hesitation.

Arya: "I am Arya, traveler of the Seven Zeniths. These are my companions, Vaishnavi and Sachin. We seek an audience with King Dharma."

The captain studied him, his grip tightening on his spear.

Guard Captain: "King Dharma does not meet with outsiders so easily. Justice must be earned in this land. What proof do you have of your worth?"

Arya took a step forward and unsheathed his blade, holding it up. A faint golden aura flickered around it—the essence of the Zenith of Charity he had obtained. The guards flinched, recognizing the divine energy emanating from Arya.

The captain exhaled sharply.

Guard Captain: "So, you carry the power of a Zenith... Very well, but do not expect an easy welcome. Dwaraka is not what it once was."

Scene: Entering the City

The gates creaked open, revealing a vast city of marble and gold, stretching as far as the eye could see. Temples dedicated to Dharma and Vishnu lined the streets, their incense-scented air filling the atmosphere with divinity. Statues of past warriors of justice stood proudly at every turn.

But as they moved deeper, something felt off.

The people in the streets whispered in hushed voices. Some glanced at the newcomers before hurrying away, while heavily armed guards patrolled every corner. Tension hung thick in the air.

Vaishnavi (whispering): "This doesn't feel like a city of peace. It feels like a city under siege."

Sachin frowned, watching a group of young children begging for food near a temple.

Sachin: "Strange… If this is a land of justice, why are the people suffering?"

Arya clenched his fists. He could already tell—justice was no longer absolute here.

Scene: Arrival at the Palace of King Dharma

After passing through the city, they reached the Grand Palace of Dharma, a massive white fortress with golden domes. Unlike the rest of the city, this place shone with an almost divine glow.

The throne room was vast, its pillars carved with the histories of legendary warriors. Seated on the throne was King Dharma, a regal yet weathered man, his silver eyes sharp with wisdom and sorrow. His golden robes flowed like a river of righteousness, but there was a weariness in his gaze.

As Arya and his companions approached, the king studied them in silence.

Finally, he spoke.

King Dharma: "I have heard of your journey, Arya. You seek the Zenith of Justice, but justice is not simply given—it must be understood. Tell me, do you know what justice truly means?"

Arya met the king's gaze, his voice steady.

Arya: "Justice is the sword that punishes the wicked, but mercy is the hand that wields it."

A moment of silence.

Then, King Dharma smiled faintly.

King Dharma: "Then let us see if you truly understand those words. Your trial begins now."

A vast chamber stretched before Arya, its walls engraved with the history of justice and law. Torches burned with blue flames, casting long shadows over the marble floor, where the scales of justice lay embedded at the center.

At the far end stood Yudhisthira, the Eternal Judge—a celestial figure radiating divine wisdom. His robes were woven with threads of fate, his piercing golden eyes unwavering as he gazed upon Arya. He carried no weapon, only a bronze scale in one hand and a scroll in the other.

Vaishnavi and Sachin remained at the threshold, knowing this was Arya's trial alone.

Yudhisthira raised his hand, and the doors sealed shut behind them.

Yudhisthira: "Justice is more than punishing the guilty, Arya. It is a weight no ruler can bear without sacrifice. Do you believe yourself ready?"

Arya stepped forward, meeting the Eternal Judge's gaze.

Arya: "Justice is the foundation of a kingdom, but I know that law alone cannot define it. I am ready."

Yudhisthira studied him for a moment before extending the scroll. As it unfurled in the air, golden letters burned into existence.

Yudhisthira: "Then you shall pass the Trial of Judgment. Before you stand two souls, each pleading for justice. Their fate rests in your hands."

Two figures manifested in golden light—a wounded farmer and a captured thief, both bound by golden shackles, kneeling before Arya.

The farmer had deep scars on his face, his hands trembling as he clutched his torn robes. His eyes were filled with rage and grief.

The thief, younger, barely more than a boy, stared at the ground in shame and fear.

Yudhisthira: "Hear their pleas and render judgment."

The farmer was the first to speak, his voice rough with sorrow.

Farmer: "This thief stole my only food! My family starves while he thrives on my suffering. Is there no justice for the innocent?"

The thief flinched but spoke in a soft, desperate voice.

Thief: "I did not steal for greed. My sister was dying of hunger… I had no choice! If I had not stolen, she would be dead by now!"

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision settling over Arya.

Yudhisthira: "You may choose the path of punishment, or the path of mercy. Judge them wisely."

Arya stared at both men, his mind racing.

If he punished the thief, he upheld the law—but at what cost? Would starving his sister be justice?

If he forgave the thief, he would show mercy—but what of the farmer's suffering? Could justice exist without fairness?

Vaishnavi's words echoed in his mind:

"A kingdom cannot exist without justice. But justice cannot exist without understanding."

Taking a breath, Arya turned to the farmer first.

Arya: "You have suffered a great injustice, and your pain is real. But if you lost everything from one theft, then the system has already failed you. Should justice not also seek to repair?"

The farmer looked away, fists clenched.

Then Arya turned to the thief.

Arya: "You acted out of desperation, but desperation is not an excuse to wrong another. If we justify theft for survival, then the world will crumble into lawlessness."

The thief trembled, tears forming in his eyes.

Arya: "I will not choose between punishment and mercy—I choose both. The thief shall work under the farmer's care, repaying his debt not with suffering, but with labor. The farmer shall be granted protection, ensuring his family will never suffer again. This is my judgment."

Silence.

Then, Yudhisthira smiled.

The golden chains around the farmer and the thief shattered into dust. Both men bowed their heads, their figures slowly fading back into light.

Yudhisthira stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Arya's shoulder.

Yudhisthira: "You have chosen the path of true justice. Not blind law, nor reckless mercy—but balance. You are worthy of the Zenith of Justice."

A sudden golden radiance enveloped Arya, filling his veins with divine energy. The scales embedded in the marble floor glowed brightly, and a powerful surge rushed through his spirit.

Arya felt something awaken within him—the power to weigh truth and deception, to pass fair judgment even in the most difficult times.

Vaishnavi and Sachin watched in awe as Arya rose from his trial stronger than before.

Sachin: "Well… that was intense."

Vaishnavi smiled softly.

Vaishnavi: "It wasn't just a trial… It was proof that Arya is destined to be more than a warrior. He's meant to be a king."

Arya exhaled, his hand tightening into a fist of resolve.

Arya: "Our journey is far from over. Let's move."

And with that, they left the Hall of Judgment, their sights set on the next Zenith.