The Royal Academy of Magadh was a fortress of discipline.
Its halls echoed with the clash of steel and the chants of ancient war hymns. Statues of past kings lined the corridors, each carved with the weapon they mastered. It was here that Jarasandha trained—prince, prodigy, and heir to a kingdom of warriors.
But today, he was unusually cheerful.
The Conversation
His teacher, Acharya Vardhana, a stern man with silver hair and eyes like sharpened flint, noticed the change.
"You're smiling," he said. "Did you finally defeat the twin-spear formation?"
"No," Jarasandha replied. "I met someone."
"Someone?"
"A warrior. His name is Dhira."
Vardhana raised an eyebrow.
"From which clan?"
"No clan. No title. Just… strong."
Jarasandha leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"He's strong. Not just in power. In presence. In movement. He fights like he's dancing with the world."
Vardhana studied him.
"You admire him."
"I respect him."
Vardhana nodded.
"Then I must see this storm myself."
The Summoning
The next morning, Dhira and his six companions were summoned to the Royal Academy.
They arrived in their usual fashion—dusty, curious, and slightly chaotic.
Bhairav adjusted his sword belt.
The five followers argued about whether mangoes were allowed in royal halls.
Dhira yawned.
Jarasandha stood beside Vardhana, watching.
The Test Begins
Vardhana stepped forward.
"I am told you are warriors," he said. "Let us see."
He pointed to Bhairav.
"You first."
Bhairav: The Green Blade
Bhairav stepped into the ring.
He was nervous.
But focused.
He faced a seasoned academy swordsman.
The clash was swift.
Bhairav held his own—parrying, dodging, striking with precision.
He lost.
But not easily.
Vardhana nodded.
"Green. But talented."
The Five Brothers: Chaos Unleashed
Next came the five.
They entered together.
Grinning.
Muttering.
One tripped.
Another dropped a mango.
The academy students laughed.
Until the fight began.
Then everything changed.
They moved like a storm of goats—unpredictable, wild, and devastating.
One used a spinning staff.
Another fought with twin sticks.
A third used acrobatics.
A fourth mimicked animal stances.
The fifth threw mango pits with surgical precision.
They were comedic.
But when serious, they were a force of nature.
Vardhana's eyes widened.
"Unorthodox. But effective."
Dhira: The Storm Without Steel
Finally, Dhira stepped forward.
Vardhana offered him weapons.
Sword.
Bow and arrow.
Spear.
Pole.
Dhira shook his head.
"I'll use my fists."
The academy murmured.
Vardhana frowned.
"Against armed opponents?"
Dhira nodded.
The test began.
The Dance of Defiance
Dhira didn't just fight.
He flowed.
He dodged the sword like he had once wielded it.
He deflected arrows like he knew their arc.
He disarmed the spear with a twist that revealed its weakness.
He broke the pole stance with a footwork pattern that mirrored its origin.
He never struck first.
He never hesitated.
He moved like someone who had studied every weapon.
And every flaw.
The Silence
When the final opponent fell, the hall was silent.
Vardhana stared.
Jarasandha smiled.
"He didn't just fight," Vardhana said. "He understood."
Jarasandha nodded.
"He's my friend."
Vardhana looked at Dhira.
"You are not trained here. But you are trained."
Dhira shrugged.
"I listen. I learn. I move."
The Aftermath
The seven stood together.
Bhairav, humbled but proud.
The five, arguing about who looked coolest.
Dhira, quiet.
Jarasandha approached.
"You're strong," he said.
"So are you," Dhira replied.
They clasped hands.
And the storm walked deeper into Magadh—respected, watched, and ready.