Invitations came in many forms.
Some were written on silk, sealed with gold.
Some arrived as whispered rumors.
And some—
Some arrived as inevitability.
Krishna was churning butter when the world nudged him.
Not violently.
Not urgently.
Firmly.
The system chimed with unusual politeness.
«Formal Summons Detected.
Origin: Hastinapura (Indirect).
Nature: Diplomatic Curiosity Disguised as Courtesy.
Acceptance Probability: Already Decided.»
Krishna sighed. "They always dress curiosity like respect."
Radha raised an eyebrow. "Who's curious this time?"
"Everyone," he replied.
As if summoned by the statement, a messenger arrived at the edge of Vrindavan. He was well-dressed, well-mannered, and extremely nervous.
He bowed so deeply Krishna worried he might tip over.
"I bring greetings from Hastinapura," the man announced. "And… an invitation."
The village gathered—not in fear, but interest.
Krishna wiped his hands casually. "To what?"
"To attend a gathering of princes," the messenger said carefully. "A friendly assembly. Exchange of culture. Fellowship."
The system chimed.
«Translation: Evaluation.
Hidden Agenda Count: Three.
Threat Level: Negligible (For You).»
Radha crossed her arms. "They finally noticed."
Krishna smiled. "They noticed earlier. Now they're pretending they didn't."
Yashoda appeared, already suspicious.
"You're not going," she said immediately.
Krishna blinked. "Mother—"
"No," she repeated. "Every time you leave, something divine happens and someone bows."
Krishna laughed softly. "I promise not to lift anything."
She narrowed her eyes. "Nothing bigger than a pot."
"I swear."
Nanda cleared his throat. "It may be wise to go," he said slowly. "Refusing might… worry them."
Krishna nodded. "Exactly."
The decision settled easily.
That night, Krishna sat with Radha beneath the stars.
"So," she said lightly, "princes."
"So," he echoed.
"Try not to embarrass them."
"No promises."
She smiled. "I'll be here."
"Always."
The system chimed softly.
«Anchor Confirmed.
Emotional Stability: Optimal.»
The journey to Hastinapura was… educational.
Krishna traveled without guards, without display. Villages along the way reacted differently—some bowed, some stared, some offered food instinctively.
One elder murmured, "He feels like safety."
Krishna pretended not to hear.
By the time he reached the city, rumors had already arrived ahead of him.
Inside the palace, tension crackled.
Princes gathered—some confident, some curious, some threatened by the idea of a boy who corrected kings without ruling them.
Duryodhana scoffed openly. "Another cowherd?"
Shakuni smiled thinly. "Careful. Even cowherds know how to guide herds."
Arjuna felt it immediately.
"That's him," he whispered.
Yudhishthira inclined his head respectfully as Krishna entered.
Karna's grip tightened unconsciously.
Krishna greeted everyone politely, casually, as if this were a picnic and not destiny assembling itself.
The system chimed.
«Major Figures Present.
Tension Level: Moderate.
Recommended Behavior: Be Yourself (They Can't Handle It Anyway).»
A test came quickly.
A debate.
Who should rule?
What made a king?
Strength?
Birth?
Cunning?
Voices rose.
Krishna listened.
Then spoke.
"A king," he said calmly, "is the one who loses sleep so his people can rest."
Silence followed.
Duryodhana bristled. "Pretty words."
Krishna smiled gently. "They should be. Ugly ones create ugly reigns."
The gathering ended unsettled.
No challenges issued.
No alliances formed.
But something had shifted.
As Krishna departed, Vidura bowed deeply.
"We will meet again," Vidura said quietly.
Krishna nodded. "When the story asks for it."
The system chimed one last time.
«Invitation Accepted.
Destiny Vector: Narrowing.
Mahabharata Convergence: Accelerating.»
Krishna left Hastinapura unchanged—
And yet—
Nothing there would ever be the same.
--chapter 25 ended--