Duryodhana chose spectacle.
If legitimacy could no longer hide behind law or strategy, then it would shout itself into existence.
The proclamation was prepared at dawn.
Trumpets sounded across Hastinapura.
Banners unfurled from every tower.
Priests were summoned.
The court assembled in full regalia.
Vidura knew it was a mistake the moment he heard the drums.
Bhishma felt it in his bones.
"This is not consolidation," Bhishma said quietly. "This is defiance."
Duryodhana smiled as he ascended the steps of the grand dais, a newly forged crown placed upon his head—heavier, sharper, more ornate than tradition allowed.
"I am the rightful heir of Hastinapura," Duryodhana declared loudly. "Chosen by birth, upheld by custom, and unchallenged by fear."
The words echoed.
Too far.
Too forcefully.
The system reacted instantly.
—
[Symbolic Authority Assertion: Detected]
[Validation Status: Contested]
—
Duryodhana raised his hand.
"Let all kingdoms know," he continued, "that Hastinapura will no longer bend to unseen judges or wandering arbiters. We acknowledge no authority beyond the throne and the law it commands."
The silence that followed was not awe.
It was recoil.
Bhishma stepped forward sharply.
"Enough," he said. "This crosses—"
"You will stand aside," Duryodhana snapped. "Your oaths bind you."
Bhishma froze.
The oath pulled at him like chains.
But something else pulled harder.
Truth.
Karna stood slowly.
Every eye turned.
"You speak of law," Karna said, voice calm but cutting, "yet you crown yourself against the spirit of that law."
Duryodhana laughed harshly. "You question me now too?"
"I question," Karna replied, "a king who needs to shout his legitimacy."
That landed harder than any insult.
The system recorded the rupture.
—
[Loyalty Fracture: Critical]
—
Duryodhana's eyes burned.
"Then stand with me," he demanded. "Here. Now."
The court held its breath.
Karna did not kneel.
Nor did he draw his bow.
"I stand," Karna said slowly, "with the consequences of my choices."
That was not allegiance.
Nor was it rebellion.
It was worse.
It was refusal to lie.
---
The sky darkened.
Not with clouds.
With inevitability.
Rudra arrived—not in the hall, but *above* it. Not floating. Not descending.
Present.
The crown on Duryodhana's head cracked.
Not shattered.
Fractured—like something rejecting its wearer.
The system finalized the trigger.
—
[False Sovereignty: Challenged]
[Judgment Authority: Activated]
—
Rudra's voice carried without effort.
"A crown does not grant righteousness," he said calmly. "It reveals it."
Duryodhana trembled.
"You have not been judged," Rudra continued. "Because you have insisted on proving yourself first."
Rudra's gaze swept the hall.
"Now you have."
The crown slid from Duryodhana's head and struck the stone floor.
No one moved to pick it up.
Bhishma dropped to one knee—not in submission, but acknowledgment.
Vidura exhaled, tears in his eyes.
Karna closed his eyes briefly.
---
Rudra did not condemn.
He did not punish.
He turned away.
"That," he said simply, "was your warning."
The system sealed the moment.
—
[Royal Legitimacy: Irreversibly Weakened]
[Public Faith: Fractured]
—
Rudra vanished.
The hall remained.
But something sacred had left it.
Duryodhana stood frozen, crownless, surrounded by witnesses who could no longer unsee what had happened.
The war would still come.
But now—
It would not be fought for destiny.
It would be fought for pride.
And pride, once exposed, bleeds easily.
-- chapter 37 ended --