Five years had passed since Bahubali, cloaked as a Nyay Rakshak, felled the tyrant Keechak in Virat's forests, his act of justice rippling across Aryavrat as a silent warning to oppressors.
In Magadha, Bahubali's reign had only grown stronger, his kingdom a fortress of prosperity and dharma, its Nyay Rakshak vigilant as ever.
Meanwhile, in Patala Lok, Rudra, now fifteen, continued his rigorous training under Asurguru Shukracharya, mastering astras and dharma's subtleties, his rudraksha a constant anchor to Mahadev's grace.
Far from Magadha's borders, in the opulent halls of Indraprastha—now fifteen years since its founding—the Pandavas gathered in a grand sabha with Lord Sri Krishna. The chamber, adorned with lotus carvings and gem-encrusted pillars, buzzed with ambition.
Yudhishthira, the Dharmaraja, sat on a silver throne, his brothers—Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula, and Sahadeva—flanking him, their faces alight with purpose.
Krishna, in a resplendent yellow dhoti, his peacock feather crown glinting, listened as Yudhishthira proposed the Rajasuya Yagna to crown himself emperor of Aryavrat, a ritual demanding the submission or conquest of all kingdoms.
"The Rajasuya will unite Aryavrat under dharma's banner," Yudhishthira said, his voice measured. "But we must strategize which kingdoms to approach—some will join willingly, others may resist." The brothers nodded, scrolls of maps and alliances spread before them.
Bhima, his massive frame leaning forward, spoke eagerly. "Most kingdoms will bow to our might, Jesht. Kuru, Panchala, and Matsya are already allies. We'll conquer the rest—Kasi, Kosala, even the distant Chedi!"
Arjuna added, "My Gandiva will silence any who defy us. Let's list the kingdoms and plan our campaign." As they named regions, Magadha arose.
Krishna's eyes twinkled, his voice calm but firm. "Magadha is no ordinary foe. Bahubali, Magadh Naresh, is a warrior of unmatched valor and a king of dharma. Send an envoy to negotiate a treaty, Dharmaraja. Let him join your banner through alliance, not conflict."
Bhima scoffed, his voice booming. "What? Fear defeat by that suta? I could crush him with my mace in a heartbeat!"
Arjuna, his pride flaring, nodded. "Krishna, my Gandiva has no equal. I'd defeat Bahubali before the sun sets."
Krishna's smile was enigmatic, his tone carrying a warning. "Bahubali is a better warrior than all of you combined, Partha. His strength, skill, and devotion to Mahadev make him formidable. Heed my counsel, Dharmaraja—seek peace with Magadha. If you choose war, don't return to me saying I didn't warn you."
Yudhishthira glanced at his brothers, their faces brimming with confidence. Bhima flexed his fists, Arjuna gripped his bow, and even Nakula and Sahadeva nodded in agreement.
"Krishna," Yudhishthira said, his voice steady, "I trust my brothers' strength. With them by my side, I fear no challenge. We'll proceed with the Rajasuya and face Magadha if needed."
Krishna shook his head, his smile tinged with amusement. "As you wish, Dharmaraja. May dharma guide your path." He leaned back, knowing the Pandavas' pride would soon meet Bahubali's resolve and shatter.
The Pandavas began preparations, their sabha buzzing with plans for the Rajasuya Yagna, set to commence in one month. Indraprastha's forges roared, crafting weapons, while messengers rallied allies and spies mapped rival kingdoms.
When the yagna began, the Pandavas' armies marched forth, bringing kingdom after kingdom under their banner—Kasi fell through diplomacy, Kosala through a swift skirmish, and Chedi through a display of Arjuna's archery.
Eight months of conquest brought them to Magadha's borders, its towering gates and fertile plains a testament to Bahubali's rule.
At dawn, as the Pandava army encamped on Magadha's frontier, Arjuna stepped forward, his Gandiva gleaming. With a single arrow with a message, inscribed with a challenge, he shot toward the palace of Magadh, its thud echoing like a drum of war.
Within the palace, Bahubali, clad in a crimson dhoti, his rudraksha mala gleaming, received the report. His ministers urged caution, but Bahubali's eyes burned with calm resolve. "The Pandavas seek Magadha's submission," he said, rising from his lion-carved throne. "Let us meet them—not with swords drawn, but with words first."
Accompanied by a small retinue of Nyay Rakshak, their faces veiled, Bahubali strode out of Magadha's gates, his vajra-like frame towering yet serene. The Pandava army stretched before him, banners fluttering, Bhima's mace and Arjuna's Gandiva prominent. Yudhishthira stood at the center, his expression regal but wary.
Bahubali halted, his voice steady, resonating across the field. "Pranipat, Dharmaraja Yudhishthira, Pandu putron. I am Bahubali, Naresh of Magadha. You've called for a duel, but I seek words first. Why do you march on Magadha, and what does your Rajasuya demand of us?"
The air grew thick with tension, the Pandavas' confidence meeting Bahubali's unyielding calm.