Sharvas watched from afar. "He's back," whispered one of his men.
His gamble had worked—for a moment. He had broken the rules to disrupt them. Arya had cracked. But now he was back.
"Pull back the archers," Sharvas ordered. "Focus on the Kshoniraajas. We need to kill Ashvapati before he regains full strength."
Sharvas pulled out his sword and took a shield in his hand. He smiled as he looked at Arya. Sharvas started moving toward him slowly. He had waited for this moment—to kill Arya. Ever since Arya stepped into the Yamsabha chambers, Sharvas felt something was wrong about him. That boy had something dangerous in his eyes. Something unpredictable. Something Sharvas feared. But now he had a chance to end it.
Sharvas' men made way for their commander. Arya, now back in the fray, was moving like a storm. His strikes were ruthless, precise. No wasted motion. No mercy.
Dhanudanda saw Arya return. Relief touched his face for a moment, but the battle demanded more. He raised his sword and shouted, "Clear his path! Let Arya through!"
His men responded. They surged with renewed energy, hacking and pushing, giving Arya the space he needed.
Arya locked eyes with Sharvas. A straight path between them was all he needed. His steps quickened. But just as he cut down another enemy and moved forward, a massive blade swung down before him.
A Kshoniraaja had crossed Parashar's lines. Towering, armored, and armed with a massive sword, the giant now blocked Arya's path.
Arya's face didn't flinch. He fell into stance. The giant lunged first—a wide, brutal slash. Arya ducked, rolled to the side, and sliced at the giant's thigh. The blade clanged against the armor, barely cutting.
The giant turned with surprising speed and swung again. Arya parried, but the impact threw him back. His sword flew from his hands and landed several feet away.
Arya groaned, trying to rise. The giant moved in to finish him. Arya's hand found a fallen spear near the mud-soaked ground. He gripped it tight.
The giant raised his sword again. Arya charged forward with the spear, ducking low. The blade whooshed over his head. Arya stabbed the giant in the foot. A howl echoed across the battlefield.
Blood spilled. The giant moved to crush Arya, but Arya was too fast. He stabbed the other foot. The giant stumbled, enraged but unrelenting. Arya danced around him, jabbing and weaving.
He leapt forward and grabbed onto a broken piece of the giant's side armor, climbing with desperate speed. One hand after another, he scrambled up the back of the massive creature.
Arya reached the shoulder. With both hands, he drove the spear into the giant's ear.
The beast shrieked.
Blood burst from the ear as Arya pulled out the spear and struck again. And again. The giant swung wildly, trying to shake him off.
Arya jumped down, rolled, retrieved his fallen sword. He attacked the raging giant - The sword bent. It had been Upendra's sword. A good blade. But not for this.
He tossed it away.
He jumped again, climbed fast, reached the shoulder, pulled out the spear and struck the spear in deep. Four. Five. Six strikes.
The Kshoniraaja groaned, staggered, and fell to its knees. Blood spilled like a river from its ear. Arya climbed down one last time and jammed the spear straight into the creature's skull, deep through the ear canal.
The giant fell. Lifeless. A mountain of flesh and fury brought down.
A wave of cheers erupted around him.
Dhanudanda roared. Sharvas stood still. His smile had vanished.
He signaled his men to retreat.
But Dhanudanda wasn't done. He charged with a fury that broke through lines. Ashvapati had already taken down another giant with sheer brute force. Of the eight Kshoniraajas that once struck fear into the hearts of Parashar's army, only one remained.
The Kaalraths—once ten, then eight, now four—had cornered and slain a third.
The last Kshoniraaja was now surrounded, struggling to hold ground.
Elsewhere, Savignya and Eknandini clashed again. Eknandini was wounded, bleeding from a dozen cuts, but still on her feet. Savignya, exhausted and battle-worn, struck hard with her sword. Eknandini twisted, evaded, then lunged forward, stabbing Savignya in the gut with her twin daggers.
Savignya staggered back, blood flowing.
Eknandini pulled out her blade and leapt again, aiming to finish her.
But a sudden shadow moved across the battlefield.
A boulder came flying, hurled by one of Savignya's siege units.
It struck Eknandini mid-air.
A sickening crunch followed. Her body was thrown across the field like a ragdoll.
She crashed, unmoving.
Savignya collapsed to her knees, clutching her stomach. Her men rushed to her, forming a wall, carrying her to safety. Her breathing was ragged, but she was alive.
Eknandini was not.
Kritipal, seeing his companion crushed, froze. For the first time in the battle, fear flickered in his eyes. He backed away, his sword slack in his hand.
Sharvas knew it was over.
Two of his strongest commanders were dead. Six Kshoniraajas had fallen. His army was breaking.
He turned to his officers. "Fall back. Get the men to the city. We regroup inside the walls."
They obeyed.
Under the silver light of the rising moon, the remnants of Sharvas' force began to withdraw. Men limped, dragged wounded comrades, stumbled through mud and blood.
Arya stood amidst the battlefield, chest heaving, spear still in hand, watching them retreat.
Dhanudanda reached him, panting, face smeared with sweat and blood. He looked at Arya, then at the giant Arya had slain.
The night had fallen. But the war was not yet over.