Chapter 62: Arjun Vs Duryodhan

Chapter 62: Arjun Vs Duryodhan

Sorry! Guys! My Father had an Accident (though he is safe now) so I was not able to post any chapters past two days....

Hope you enjoy this chapter....

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In the center of the arena, Guru Dronacharya stepped forward, his voice booming through the enchanted acoustics.

> "People of Hastinapur! Behold—our final duel: Arjun versus Duryodhan!"

The response was volcanic.

Duryodhan stormed into the arena, his dark gold armor reflecting the noonday sun, mace resting on his shoulder like a mountain. From the opposite gate strode Arjun, slender and deadly, his Bow humming with restrained divine energy.

They faced each other, brothers in blood but rivals in fate.

Duryodhan grinned. "Ready to dance, Arjun? I promise it'll hurt."

Arjun smirked, lifting his bow. "You'll have to catch me first."

The battle began like thunder cracking open the sky. Arjun's arrows sang through the air in blazing arcs, slicing through gusts, while Duryodhan closed the distance, deflecting with sheer brute strength and acrobatic grace.

"Amazing!" shouted a merchant. "It's a battle between Devtas!"

Arjun launched a spiraling volley of five arrows, their tips aglow—but Duryodhan spun his mace with impossible precision, shattering three mid-air and dodging the rest, charging like a raging bull. Arjun flipped back gracefully, shooting while upside-down, grazing Duryodhan's vambrace.

The two titans clashed—Arjun, the dancer of death; Duryodhan, the juggernaut of Hastinapur. Every move echoed through the hearts of warriors. The crowd surged with chants of "Arjun! Duryodhan!"

As the match wore on, Duryodhan adapted. Initially overwhelmed by Arjun's divine precision, he began reading his rhythm. The prince of Hastinapur, forged in brutal battle pits, wasn't one to crumble.

"He's learning Arjun's tempo!" a soldier muttered in awe.

Anupriya grabbed Rudra's sleeve. "Shiva! They're beyond human!"

But Rudra's face darkened. A chill passed through him. A truth trembled beneath the surface—a deep injustice.

Along with him, Vijay Raj Pratap's jaw clenched. Ishita's eyes narrowed. Karna crossed his arms, lips pressed into a hard line. Even Krishna's ever-present smile faded.

Something was wrong.

In the ring, Duryodhan surged forward, forcing Arjun into close quarters. Realizing his disadvantage, Arjun's fingers danced across his quiver, calling upon something greater.

With a mantra whispered like wind, Arjun summoned Dhuum Astra. Smoke burst forth like a cursed monsoon, engulfing the arena in a thick, choking fog. Duryodhan coughed, blinded.

Then, Arjun whispered again. Him Astra.

Frost swept the battlefield. Duryodhan's limbs locked as sheets of enchanted ice encased his joints. His mace crashed to the floor with a dead thud. Frozen and helpless, he watched as Arjun fired one last arrow, which halted inches from his heart—a statement, not a kill.

The crowd lost control.

"Arjun! Arjun!" they screamed.

"Dhananjay!" nobles cheered.

Dushala screamed with delight. Anupriya leapt up. "Shiva, he's a god!"

But Rudra didn't clap.

His eyes remained still, colder than Him Astra's frost.

Bhishma stood motionless. His breathing deepened, the storm gathering in his chest. Not anger at Arjun—but at Dronacharya.

Karna growled. "He never had a chance."

Eklavya, composed as ever, spoke softly. "He was never taught how to resist divine weapons."

Reader, a truth unveils itself.

Arjun, the prodigy, was taught everything—divine astras, sacred mantras, and more. But what of the others? Duryodhan's form was impeccable. His strength and reflexes, elite. But he faltered not due to skill—but lack of divine knowledge.

Why?

The answer lies in ancient history.

When divine astras turned archers arrogant and reckless, Rishi Bharadwaj, Drona's father, called a conclave with the Saptarishis. They forged Shakti Vidya—the technique of infusing Prana into any weapon, making even a stick divine in the hands of the worthy. Parshuram used Bhargavastra through his axe to destroy entire armies. Shakti Vidya was sacred. Balanced. Controlled.

And it was never taught to Duryodhan or any other Kurur Kumar, Maybe they don't even know about it.

Duryodhan, despite being a born tactician and warrior, was kept away from divine arts. Unlike Arjun, he never received the sacred training in Prana control or Vidya of astras. His defeat today was not from weakness—but betrayal.

Bhishma's hands trembled. "Drona," he whispered under his breath, "what have you done?"

But he didn't speak aloud. To challenge the guru of the Kuru dynasty would bring public disgrace. And so, like Rudra, he swallowed his fury.

Rudra, however, knew others would not remain silent forever. The injustice Drona had sown today would bloom into a storm of karma.

Krishna's gaze locked with Rudra's. No words were spoken, yet a pact formed. Subhadra, from above, kept her eyes fixed not on Arjun—but on Rudra, a flicker of emotion stirring.

Anupriya leaned in, whispering, "Shiva, are you alright?"

Rudra masked his thoughts with a crooked smile. "If I could shoot like Arjun, maybe you'd cheer for me too."

She blushed. "Stop it!" she giggled, but Rudra's eyes never smiled.

And far above, as the dust of the duel settled and Dronacharya lifted his hand in final judgment:

> "Arjun stands victorious."

...a divine unease settled over the arena. For those with true vision saw not glory—but a manipulated triumph.

And Niyati watched in silence, its wheel beginning to turn.