Aftermath

As the last of Kindhasura's asura army retreated, their roars fading into Patala Lok's shadowed caverns, the battlefield fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the crackle of dying fires and the gurgle of blood-soaked streams.

Bahubali stood alone amidst the carnage, his body drenched in the dark ichor of the slain asuras. Ajaydhansu, his divine bow, rested in his hand, its golden string still humming with the echo of war. The devas—Indra, Agni, Vayu, Varuna—watched from the skies, their hearts swelling with reverence for the mortal who had felled a demon king and his fifteen akshauhini sena.

Before Bahubali could take a step, a radiant light descended, the air trembling with cosmic energy. Mahadev Himself appeared, His form resplendent, matted locks adorned with the Ganga, His trident gleaming, a serene smile on His lips.

Bahubali's eyes widened, his heart overwhelmed, and he fell to his knees, touching Mahadev's feet with trembling hands. "Pranam, Mahadev, my guru, my guide! Your disciple has fought for dharma, for Patala's liberation, as You willed. I am but dust before Your feet—forgive any flaws in my service."

Mahadev's voice, was gentle yet commanding. "Arise, Bahubali, My beloved disciple. Your valor has pleased me, your heart's purity a beacon in Patala's darkness. Stand, for you've honored dharma and My trust." As Bahubali rose, Mahadev's gaze fell on his blood-soaked form, the asura ichor clinging to his armor and skin.

With a tender smile, Lord Shiva placed His hands on Bahubali's shoulders, patting his arms, chest, and back, His touch igniting a divine spark. "The blood of these asuras, shed by your righteous arrows, has marked you, Bahubali. From this moment, your body is vajra—unbreakable as thunder, forged anew by their sacrifice and My grace. No mortal weapon shall pierce you, no force shatter you. Go forth, My son, and continue your path of dharma."

Bahubali bowed deeply, tears of gratitude in his eyes, his voice thick with devotion. "O Mahadev, Your blessing is more than I deserve. This vajra body, this life, is Yours to command. I vow to serve Your will, to uplift the downtrodden, and to wield dharma as my shield, as You and Mata Parvati have taught me. Thank you, my Lord, for seeing Your disciple through this trial."

Mahadev's smile widened, and with a nod, He vanished, His light merging with Patala's skies. The devas descended, their forms radiant, surrounding Bahubali with divine warmth. Indra stepped forward, his vajra gleaming, his voice regal yet warm. "Bahubali, Magadha Naresh, you've saved Patala and honored Mahadev's command. Swarga stands in awe of your deeds—slaying Kindhasura, shattering his army. Name any boon, and we, the devas, shall grant it."

Bahubali clasped his hands, his tone humble. "Pranam, Devraj Indra, revered Agni, Vayu, Varuna, and all devas. I seek no boon but your blessings, to continue serving dharma as Mahadev wills. Your presence here is reward enough—guide me, elders, that I may never stray from this path."

Indra's eyes softened, his voice filled with admiration. "Your humility rivals your might, Bahubali. Yet, a boon you shall have, not for yourself, but for your legacy. I decree that your son, yet to be born, will be a great warrior, continuing your work of dharma, uplifting Aryavarth as you have. His name will shine as brightly as yours, a Kshatriya of unmatched valor and wisdom. So be it."

Varuna, his waters form shimmering, gestured, and a magnificent chariot appeared, its frame white with golden filigree, pulled by six majestic white horses, their manes flowing like starlight. "Bahubali, this is Rashmi, a divine chariot creation of lord Vishwakarma, swift as the tides, unbreakable in battle. May it carry you through your wars and quests. Accept it, and let it serve your dharma."

Agni, Vayu, and the others followed, each presenting a weapon infused with divine energy. Agni offered a fiery sword, its blade pulsing with heat. "This sword, Agnikhanda, burns through armor and illusion alike." Vayu gifted a mace, its head carved with storm clouds. "This mace, Vayuvajra, strikes with the force of a hurricane." Another deity bestowed an axe, its edge glowing with starlight, and another a spear, its tip crackling with cosmic energy. Each weapon sang of power, crafted for a warrior worthy of Mahadev's trust.

Bahubali bowed to each, his voice steady. "I accept these gifts, revered devas, not for glory, but to wield them in dharma's service. Rashmi, Agnikhanda, Vayuvajra, and these sacred arms—they'll protect my people and honor your faith. My heart bows to you, elders of Swarga, for this boundless grace." The devas, their faces glowing, offered final blessings and vanished, their light fading into Patala's restored skies.

Alone, Bahubali surveyed the battlefield, his heart heavy. The ground was a sea of blood, asura bodies strewn across the plain, their lifeless forms a stark reminder of war's toll. "These souls fought as warriors, bound by their lord's will," he murmured. "Dharma demands I honor their end, as I would my own kin." With solemn resolve, he began preparing final rites, gathering wood, cleansing the earth, and arranging pyres for each fallen asura.

For twenty-one days, he toiled without rest, his vajra body tireless, cremating every warrior, chanting mantras to guide their souls to peace, his hands stained with ash and blood, his heart anchored by compassion.

On the twenty-first day, as the final pyre blazed, a figure approached—Asura Guru Shukracharya, his white robes radiant, his eyes ageless, bearing the wisdom of a Mahadev devotee.

Bahubali, seeing him, offered pranipat, his smile warm. "Pranipat, revered Guru Shukracharya, master of the asuras, great bhakta of Mahadev. Your presence honors this battlefield, sanctified by dharma's triumph and these warriors' sacrifice."

Shukracharya's gaze softened, his voice rich with respect. "Pranipat, Bahubali, Magadha Naresh, slayer of Kindhasura. I watched your battle from its dawn, your arrows a symphony of divine wrath, yet your heart never strayed from dharma. I saw you cremate my asura kin, granting them rites as if they were your own, a compassion rare even among gods. You recognized me, a guru of demons, yet greet me as a devotee of Mahadev. Your valor and righteousness impress me, Putra. Ask any boon, and I, Shukracharya, vow to grant it, for your deeds have earned my trust."

Bahubali's eyes shone, his tone humble yet earnest. "Revered Guru, your words are a treasure I scarcely deserve. I know you as Mahadev's devotee, whose wisdom guides even the asuras to truth. I seek one favor, not for myself, but for my legacy. In the future, I will send my son to you, yet unborn, to learn at your feet. Teach him all you know—war, wisdom, dharma, statecraft—that he may be an able king and warrior, serving Aryavarth as I strive to do. This is my heart's request, Guru, for his path to uphold Mahadev's light."

Shukracharya smiled, his voice warm but cryptic. "Your request is granted, Bahubali. I'll accept your son as my shishya, teaching him all I possess, forging him into a king and warrior worthy of your name. But heed this: do not tell him of my promise, for I will test him, as I test all who seek my knowledge. His trials will shape him, as yours have shaped you. Go with my blessing, Putra, and may Mahadev guide your return to Magadha."

Bahubali bowed deeply, his voice filled with gratitude. "Guru Shukracharya. Your promise is a boon beyond measure. I'll honor your condition, trusting my son's trials to your wisdom. My heart thanks you, and I vow to continue serving dharma, as you serve Mahadev. May our paths cross again in His light."

Shukracharya nodded, vanishing into a shimmer of light. Bahubali, his task complete, turned to Rashmi, the divine chariot gleaming, its white horses pawing the earth. He climbed aboard, willing Rashmi to ascend. The chariot soared, swift as thought, carrying him from Patala's bloodied plains to Bhuloka's sunlit skies.

As Magadha's borders came into view, Bahubali's heart lifted, ready to reunite with his people, his vajra body and divine gifts a testament to his triumph, his soul ever anchored by Mahadev and Mata Parvati's grace.