Chapter 65: Bhairav Rudra

Chapter 65: Bhairav Rudra

"You should apologize too. That tongue of yours needs discipline. Maybe your beauty caught my eye—you should be honored. Serve us five brothers in bed till we are satisfied and we'll forgive your arrogance."

The moment Bheem's vile words echoed across the tournament grounds, the entire arena fell into stunned silence.

What had begun as a grand display of Kuru glory now twisted into something unspeakably vile.

Nobles gasped. Citizens froze. Even seasoned warriors felt their breath hitch.

Bhishma, seated at the front of the royal gallery, paled. His ancient instincts screamed in alarm. He turned slowly—ever so slowly—toward Vijay Raj Pratap, the Silver Lion of Mahishmati, seated with the foreign dignitaries.

Bhishma's voice trembled as realization dawned, "The three in the arena… they're not common warriors… they're Mahishmati's Senapatis."

His gaze fell upon Ishita, and he choked on his breath. "And the girl Bheem insulted… she is Rudra's sister."

His knees weakened.

Vijay Raj Pratap stared ahead, his face an expressionless mask, but his eyes—cold as ice, unblinking—burned with silent fury.

He didn't look at Bhishma, but his words hit like a hammer.

> "My heart yearns to separate Bheem's head from his body this very instant. You know well that Ishita could do it herself. But now... now that Bheem has invited annihilation with his tongue—only Mahadev knows what comes next."

Bhishma's hand trembled as he lowered himself shakily back to his seat. "Is… is he here too?"

Vijay's only reply was a dark, humorless laugh.

Down in the arena, Bheem stood with a mocking grin, staring directly at Ishita. None of his brothers said a word. Not even Yudhishthir. Not even Arjun. The silence of brotherhood became complicity.

The crowd dared not breathe.

Karna's eyes narrowed.

Something within the arena shifted.

> "BHEEM!" Karna roared, his voice thunder and flame.

With a furious glare, he raised his bow. His Pratyāncha screamed as it drew taut, and from nothing, a blazing arrow formed—an Agni Astra, infused with Siddhi, Yogic Prana, and pure wrath.

The very temperature of Hastinapur spiked.

Sweat broke out across brows. Fear flashed through even the Kaurava elders. This was no ordinary warrior. This was no ordinary bow.

Karna's aura now radiated Maharathi pressure.

> "You insulted me, I remained silent. You spat on my guru, I tolerated it. But now you have insulted someone… someone dearer than life. Now, your annihilation is destiny."

Kunti gasped, her maternal instincts waking. "No… Karna—please!"

But the plea was swallowed by the next tremor.

Eklavya's foot slammed into the earth.

A black shadow surged across the arena, spreading from Eklavya's body like a creeping eclipse. The world darkened, as if time itself held its breath.

All sound died.

Spectators, warriors, royalty—none could speak or move. The shadow rendered them mute and still.

Bheem stood frozen. For the first time in his life, true fear danced in his eyes.

Then came Ishita.

A blizzard burst into being. Ice spikes spread across the arena like a blooming lotus of death, trapping Bheem in a rising pillar of ice up to his neck. Every second, the cold crept deeper into his soul. He could feel his skin split. His nerves scream.

He whimpered.

Then…

> "Shaant ho jaao."

A single voice.

Calm.

Cold.

Commanding.

The storm froze. The flames stilled. The shadows returned to the earth.

Karna lowered his bow. Eklavya stepped back. Ishita's hands fell to her side.

All eyes turned.

He stood.

Rudra.

He had been seated beside Anupriya the whole time. Now he walked forward, gaze fixed on the ground.

As he advanced, his form began to change.

His simple clothes caught fire—not of destruction, but of transformation.

When the flames faded, he wore only a black and gold regal dhoti, his upper body bare, sculpted with divinity.

Rudraksha beads adorned his neck, wrists, and arms.

His skin darkened, his hair turned silver-white, cascading past his shoulders.

The Shiv tilak on his forehead pulsed.

He kept walking.

His voice, when it came, was a quiet thunder.

> "I have seen asuras, devas, and men. I've seen their greed, their arrogance, their sins. But never—never—have I been this furious."

He stepped into the arena. As his eyes rose, they locked onto Bheem.

The whites of Rudra's eyes were now blood red, the irises shimmering silver.

> "Bheem. You dared insult my sister. In front of me. You have summoned apocalypse upon the Kuru throne."

He raised his arms.

A violent wind erupted. His aura blackened into swirling shadows laced with blood-red light. This was not a warrior. This was Bhairav, the destroyer.

The crowd trembled. Kuru royals felt their knees weaken. Mothers clutched their children.

The sky darkened. Clouds turned pitch black. A silence fell—a shamshan shanti—the peace of the cremation ground.

Rudra turned slowly to Dronacharya.

> "My disciples stood for righteousness. But you, bound by arrogance, mistook their words as pride."

He faced the crowd.

> "This man," he pointed at Drona, "deprived every Kuru prince—save Arjun—of a knowledge passed from Rishi Bharadwaj and the Sapt Rishis: Shakti Vidya."

The Kauravas gasped.

> "The power to channel divine energy into any weapon—axe, spear, sword—not just bows. A power Parshuram used with Bhargavastra in his axe."

Rudra turned to Duryodhan.

> "You didn't lose to Arjun because you were weak. You lost because your Guru made you weak."

Duryodhan stumbled back, horrified. "Gurudev… is this true?"

Dronacharya lowered his head, silent. But in his eyes—resentment lingered.

Rudra's voice rose again.

> "And for this bias, Rishi Bharadwaj has cursed Drona—to forget Shakti Vidya and doom his legacy to rot in arrogance."

The Pandavas looked shattered. Even Yudhishthir's face was pale.

Arjun trembled. "Gurudev…?"

But Drona said nothing.

Rudra advanced.

He placed his palm on Drona's bowed head.

> "May the truth you buried… bury your pride."

The wind howled. The sky cracked with thunder.

Chapter End