The road to Magadh shimmered with heat and history.
Dust rose from the earth like forgotten prayers, and the wind carried the scent of iron, mangoes, and ambition. Bhairav walked with purpose, his sword strapped tight, his eyes sharper than ever. He had trained every morning, sparred every evening, and studied every movement of Dhira's five senior followers. He was no longer content being the Up-Senapati. He wanted to rise.
But the five were no ordinary warriors. They had followed Dhira for three years, through bears, bees, and battles. They had trained under mango trees and fought with goat-inspired footwork. They were chaotic. They were brilliant. And Bhairav was determined to surpass them.
The Lion Gates of Magadh
The capital of Rajagriha loomed ahead—its gates carved with roaring lions, its walls lined with banners of gold and crimson. Soldiers stood tall in polished armor, their eyes scanning every traveler with practiced suspicion.
Dhira and his gang approached with dusty feet and wide eyes. The city buzzed with trade, politics, and whispers of war. But before they could enter, they saw him.
A boy.
Their age.
Strong. Sturdy. Moving like a shadow.
He was sneaking out of a side gate, his steps quick, his posture low.
The Suspicion
Dhira narrowed his eyes.
"Thief," he muttered.
"Definitely thief," said the first follower.
"Look at the sneaky elbows," said the second.
"He's going to get caught any second," said the third.
"Let's catch him first," said the fourth.
"I'll handle it," Dhira said, already moving.
The Encounter
Dhira sprinted. The boy turned. Their eyes met.
And the world paused.
Then fists flew.
It wasn't a scuffle.
It was a clash of storms.
Dhira moved like wind—fluid, unpredictable, precise.
The boy countered with raw power—grounded, relentless, sharp.
The five followers cheered from the sidelines.
"Go, Boss!"
"Show him the mango stance!"
"Use Adolita!"
"Spin like the goat!"
"Don't lose to a thief!"
Bhairav watched silently, studying every move.
The Shift
At first, the boy took Dhira lightly.
But then he saw the footwork.
The timing.
The smile.
And he understood.
Dhira was no ordinary fighter.
He was enjoying this.
So the boy fought harder.
Faster.
Smarter.
And Dhira responded.
They clashed again.
And again.
Until the ground cracked beneath their feet.
The Guards Arrive
City guards rushed in, swords drawn, eyes wide.
"Troublemakers!"
"Arrest them!"
But then they saw the fighters.
Smiling.
Laughing.
Enjoying every strike.
The captain raised a hand.
"Wait," he said. "They're not fighting to harm. They're fighting to remember."
The Draw
The final clash sent dust flying.
Both fighters landed on opposite sides.
Breathing hard.
Grinning.
They stood.
They bowed.
They walked toward each other.
The Introduction
The boy extended a hand.
"I'm Jarasandha," he said.
Dhira took it.
"I'm Dhira."
They laughed.
They sat.
They discussed techniques.
Footwork.
Timing.
Philosophy.
"You fight like an Elephant," Jarasandha said.
"You fight like a Lion," Dhira replied.
"Let's spar again."
"Definitely."
The Aftermath
The guards dispersed.
The crowd whispered.
The five followers argued about who cheered loudest.
Bhairav trained harder that night.
And Dhira gained a friend.
Not just any friend.
A future king.
A future rival.
A future ally.
And the storm walked on.