---
It began with dust.
A long, rising cloud on the northern road. The kind that didn't belong to traders or pilgrims. The kind only armies make.
The sentries atop Mathura's walls shouted. Horns echoed. Soldiers scrambled to battlements, eyes wide.
The banners came next.
Red, black, and gold.
The sigil of Magadha.
At the heart of the approaching host: Jarasandha's royal war cart, drawn by beasts that had once eaten men on blood-stained battlefields.
Inside the palace, Krishna stood at the balcony, hands folded.
He said nothing.
Behind him, Balarama stormed into the room, half-armored already. "He comes for blood."
Krishna didn't blink. "Let him."
"We should ride out. Cut him before he reaches the walls."
"No."
Balarama stopped, stunned. "What do you mean no?"
Krishna turned slowly. His voice was calm—but behind it, something enormous stirred.
"Mathura is no longer mine to defend."
Balarama blinked. "You're leaving it to chance?"
"To choice," Krishna said. "The world needs to see who stands beside me."
---
By midday, Jarasandha's army had surrounded Mathura's north gate.
Fifty thousand men.
Cavalry.
Elephants in black iron.
Siege towers rolling on wheels carved from dead oaks.
Jarasandha stood at the front—no helmet, no disguise. His face bore the scars of twenty wars. His sword was older than some kings.
He raised one hand.
His army stilled.
He roared, "BRING ME THE CHILD WHO KILLED A KING!"
His voice echoed for miles.
On the wall, Agasthya stepped forward.
No warpaint.
No armor.
Just him.
And his sword.
Karna appeared beside him, silver-helmed and silent, eyes burning.
Then Balarama—cracking his knuckles, twirling his plough like a dancer's staff.
The three stood atop the gate like judgment carved into stone.
Agasthya's eyes never left Jarasandha.
And the system hummed softly:
> [EVENT TRIGGERED: UNSCHEDULED BATTLE – MAJOR FACTION LEADER ENGAGED]
[YOUR ACTIONS WILL BE RECORDED ACROSS THE WAR GRID]
[WIN CONDITIONS: HOLD THE CITY. MAKE THEM REMEMBER.]
He smiled—just faintly.
---
The battle began like thunder exploding in every direction.
Siege towers advanced.
Archers rained death.
Drummers pounded tempo as cavalry rushed the gates.
But Mathura did not fall.
Because Agasthya leapt from the wall.
No rope.
No ladder.
Just air.
He landed among the front ranks of Jarasandha's soldiers—and time slowed.
His blade moved before it flashed.
One, two, five, nine—
Men fell in patterns, as if the wind itself had sliced them.
> [PRIMORDIAL TALENT CORE: ACTIVE]
[FOCUSED COMBAT FLOW – UNBROKEN STRIKE ARC]
[KILL COUNT: 41]
An elephant charged.
He slid beneath it, slashed the tendons, leapt onto its back, and hurled his sword straight through the mahout's skull in one perfect motion.
Jarasandha stared.
"What… is he?"
---
Balarama crashed into the flank with a roar, splitting chariots with his plough.
Steel cracked like firewood.
When a dozen warriors tried to mob him, he grabbed the nearest by the throat and used him as a hammer.
"I'M JUST WARMING UP!"
---
Karna tore through the eastern flank like sunlight wielding fire.
He fought with bow and blade in harmony—grace without hesitation.
He took no glory in it. But he took no prisoners either.
When a siege tower neared the gate, he loosed one flaming arrow.
It struck the base.
The tower exploded.
---
The tide turned.
In one hour.
Fifty thousand arrived.
Only twenty-three thousand would crawl away.
The rest fed the field.
---
Jarasandha, watching from his war cart, gritted his teeth as Agasthya turned and looked up at him directly.
Not as a challenge.
Just as a fact.
You see me now.
> [BATTLE STATUS: DECISIVE VICTORY]
[MATHURA DEFENDED]
[ENEMY GENERAL FORCED TO RETREAT]
[REPUTATION GLOBALIZED]
[NEW TITLE ACQUIRED:]
🜁 "The Blade That Broke the Sky"
---
Back in the palace, Krishna sipped from a brass cup, watching the fires from afar.
He smiled.
"Good," he murmured. "Now they believe."
---