It was far away from Dwarka.
The place was a room made of stone—old stone, covered with green plants. A table and a chair stood there.
Peacock feathers and ink were kept on the table.
Someone sat on the chair, looking straight ahead, unmoving.
A small waterfall flowed nearby. Water moved from one point, rose upward, and then fell again, forming a continuous loop.
But the water looked different.
It was showing the present scene of Dwarka—everyone jumping into the pool.
His focus was on Arjun.
The moment Arjun entered the water, the image froze.
For a moment, his fingers tightened on the armrest.
He sighed.
"A sacred place."
It seemed someone was keeping an eye on Arjun—for reasons yet unknown.
**
The announcer continued even after the participants had entered the water.
He chanted a mantra and let a few drops of blood fall from his palm into the pool.
The water, once blue and immeasurable, changed.
It began showing the participants underwater, like a moving screen.
"If you wish to watch a specific individual," the announcer said, "go to Platform Three. Pay one hundred Niksha."
A long line formed almost immediately.
People were given water containers marked with mantras. Through them, they could watch the contestant they chose.
Subha was also among those waiting, her eyes fixed on one image.
At the highest level of the stadium, a figure sat on a luxurious seat. The space behind him was decorated and guarded.
The king watched silently. Behind him stood the rulers of various towns.
Each of them observed different contestants through their own water displays.
The king's gaze remained fixed on Viraj.
**
Underwater, the participants swam forward.
At first, it didn't seem difficult.
Fishes and small underwater species moved freely around them. Some participants formed full Shakti spheres around their bodies. Others covered only their faces.
For a moment, it looked manageable.
Then the water shifted.
A powerful current formed suddenly, twisting in on itself.
Within seconds, it became a cyclone.
No one could resist it.
Participants tried to break through, but the pull was too strong. Shakti flared uncontrollably as pressure crushed inward. Breathing became uneven. Control slipped.
After several moments, the cyclone collapsed.
The participants were thrown onto solid ground.
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Some collapsed to one knee. Some coughed instinctively despite the water. Others pressed their palms to the surface beneath them, grounding themselves as the weight of the water pressed harder than before.
Low voices broke the silence.
"So this is it…" someone muttered.
Another participant nodded slowly. "It happens every time. The cyclone gathers everyone here first."
"It's their way," a third said quietly. "They always bring us to the old Dwarka before anything else."
They were standing inside a vast, dome-like structure beneath the water.
It allowed them to breathe.
This was the sunken Dwarka.
Before the dome, broken parts of Dwarka lay scattered—collapsed walls, fractured roads, fallen pillars eaten away by time and pressure. Entire sections had caved inward.
Beyond the ruins, behind the temple, stood something unexpected.
A city—standing, but not untouched.
Stone roads remained intact, but worn. Pillars stood tall, yet cracked. Structures grown from stone itself bore signs of repair and restraint rather than perfection.
This was Nagalok.
They had descended deep underwater—three to four hundred meters.The pressure lingered in their bones, even within the dome.
In front of the temple stood several beings.
Their upper bodies were humanoid, but below the waist their forms turned serpentine. Scales reflected dim light through the water. Their eyes were sharp, ancient, and assessing.
They were beautiful—but not comforting.
Their presence pressed against the senses.
Coincidentally, Arjun and Niraj stood close to each other.
Before anyone could speak, one of the beings stepped forward.
"I am the King of Nagas," he said.
His voice carried through the space without force, yet silence followed immediately.
"Do not panic."
No one moved.
"We are Nagas," he continued. "And we also participate in this competition. This competition is as important to us as it is to you."
Several participants lowered their guards instinctively. Others tightened them.
"The city behind me is Nagalok," he said. "Long ago, we lived deeper—within Layer Two. But time, collapse, and forces beyond your concern pushed us upward."
"Now we remain in Layer One."
"The Dwarka you stand on has sunk many times. As you go deeper, you will find Dwarkas from even older ages."
"You are allowed to go only to Layer One. It holds many remains, but little of true value."
A pause.
"But if you become a Prāpti of ours, you may descend to Layer Two."
"It will not be free."
"You will retrieve something for us—something we can no longer reach."
"In return, survival below will become… easier."
Almost immediately, a few participants stepped forward.
The change was visible.
Their breathing steadied. The weight pressing against them eased—not gone, but reduced.
Others noticed.
Murmurs spread.
Some hesitated now, regret visible on their faces.
Arjun turned to Niraj.
"Are you going to become a Prāpti?"
Niraj didn't answer immediately.
He glanced once at the dome above, then at the city behind the Nagas.
His answer came without hesitation.
"No."
Arjun studied him for a moment.
"I heard about you from Subha," he said quietly. "I was there at that mountain too."
Niraj replied, just as quietly,"That's good."
A pause.
"Let's see who wins."
Those who accepted the offer moved toward Nagalok. The distance between them and the rest slowly widened.
The others turned away, heading deeper into the ruins.
Everything beyond was underwater.
Shakti was required to survive.
Most formed full spheres around their bodies to breathe and endure the pressure, but their Shakti began draining faster than expected.
Some chose to cover only their faces.
They conserved energy—
but the water pressed down on them without mercy, reminding them that depth was never forgiving.