The pit was silent after the battle. Ashvapati's victory was no surprise, but Arya's resilience had shaken many. Despite the overwhelming strength against him, he had refused to stay down until his body could no longer move. Now, he lay unconscious in the mud, his breath shallow but steady.
Raman and the others rushed to his side. "He's still breathing," Raman confirmed, placing a hand on Arya's chest to feel the slow, but determined rhythm of his heartbeat.
Ashvapati stood nearby, watching. "Take him to his chambers," he ordered, before turning away. His job was done.
Ganak's men, who had been spectating the entire fight, exchanged glances. They had witnessed many brutal battles in the pit, but this one was different. Some of them respected Arya more now; others pitied him. Ganak, however, grinned. "He's got fight in him," he muttered to himself. "If he survives this, he'll be stronger than before."
Arya woke up in his chamber, his body aching as if he had been trampled by a herd of wild horses. His vision blurred for a moment before clearing. Raman sat nearby, looking relieved. "You're awake," he said.
"How long was I out?" Arya asked, his throat dry.
"A few hours. You took quite the beating."
Arya groaned as he tried to sit up, every muscle protesting against the movement. He could still feel the weight of Ashvapati's fists on his body. "I wasn't expecting to win," he admitted, "but I thought I'd last longer."
Raman smirked. "You lasted longer than most. That's saying something."
Arya exhaled sharply and leaned his head back against the wall. "I have a long way to go."
Before Raman could respond, a knock echoed through the chamber. A messenger entered, bowing respectfully. "Lord Arya, the envoys from Dhanudanda, Parashar, and Savignya have arrived. They await your presence."
Arya sighed, pushing himself up despite the pain. "No rest for the wicked, huh?"
Raman grinned. "If you're wicked, what does that make Ashvapati?"
Arya chuckled, then winced at the sharp pain in his ribs. "Let's go."
The meeting hall was dimly lit, a single brazier flickering in the center. Seated before Arya were the representatives of Dhanudanda, Parashar, and Savignya, their expressions unreadable. Ashvapati was already present, arms crossed, standing at Arya's side.
Parashar's envoy was the first to speak. "We have received your summons. What is it you seek, Arya?"
Arya straightened his posture, ignoring the dull ache in his body. "War is coming," he stated firmly. "We need to prepare."
The three envoys exchanged glances. Dhanudanda's representative leaned forward. "We are aware of the tensions, but to openly prepare for war is a dangerous move."
"Not preparing is even more dangerous," Ashvapati interjected. His deep voice carried weight, making the room feel smaller. "Sharvas is not one to wait. If we don't act, he will."
Savignya's envoy nodded slowly. "Then what do you propose?"
Arya's eyes burned with determination. "We need weapons, we need soldiers, and we need alliances. If we don't stand together, we will fall separately."
The room fell into silence, only the crackling of the fire filling the air. The war had not yet begun, but the pieces were already moving.
As the meeting ended, Arya stepped outside, taking in a deep breath. The cool night air soothed his bruised body, but his mind remained restless. He had survived Ashvapati's training, but it had only proven how far he still had to go.
He clenched his fists. He would become stronger. He had no other choice.
The war was coming. And this time, he would be ready.