Sarthak stood unmoved as chaos erupted around him. Netra commanded the vines to hold the temple guards down, her movements sharp and decisive. The guards, brave as they were, couldn't match the pace or ferocity of the unnatural bindings.
"Push forward," Sarthak ordered coldly, not even raising his voice. His men surged like a black tide, heavily armed and ruthless, stepping over the fallen without flinching.
The twins—Raghav and Rudra—sprang into action.
"Defensive stance! Protect the temple!" Raghav shouted.
Their soldiers responded instantly, forming a barrier of shields and spears in front of the temple steps. Steel clashed against steel, bodies slammed into each other, and the once-holy courtyard turned into a storm of dust and blood.
But even amidst the chaos, the twins moved like lightning.
Twelve of Sarthak's men broke through the frontline, rushing toward the temple's base. Raghav leapt from behind the shield wall, his sword gleaming under the fading sunlight. Rudra mirrored him, daggers glinting with menace.
The first attacker swung at Raghav. He ducked, sidestepped, and drove his sword straight through the man's thigh, pivoting to knock the second one back with the hilt. Rudra dashed in from the side, slashing the hamstrings of one soldier while flipping over another's spear thrust.
Their rhythm was like a deadly dance—Raghav's broad, precise strokes contrasted Rudra's swift, slicing attacks.
Raghav parried two blows simultaneously, locking swords with one opponent while using his shoulder to shove another. Rudra rolled under a spear thrust, stabbed upward into a ribcage, twisted the blade free, then spun around and blocked a sword meant for Raghav's back.
"Behind you!" Rudra called.
Raghav didn't turn—he trusted. Rudra intercepted the blow, kicked the attacker in the gut, and ducked as Raghav swung over his head.
The ground trembled as a heavy brute—twice the twins' size—charged at them. Raghav took the hit, his sword locking with the brute's axe. Rudra leapt onto the brute's back and slit his throat clean. The body dropped with a thud.
The twelve were reduced to three. One fled. The last two fell at their feet.
The twins stood, breathing heavily, sweat streaking down their faces, their weapons painted with blood.
Then—
Sarthak moved.
He walked forward with deliberate calm, as if he'd been watching a children's game. Reaching his chariot, he took out two long, curved swords. He swung them in slow arcs, warming up his shoulders.
The battlefield quieted for a heartbeat.
Raghav and Rudra took their positions, side by side.
Raghav rushed in, sword high. He brought it down in a crushing arc.
CLANG!
Sarthak met it with his left sword, holding the blow with terrifying ease. With his right, he countered with a sweeping slash that Raghav barely dodged.
Rudra circled behind, leapt, and aimed a precise strike toward Sarthak's lower back.
Sarthak twisted, parried without even looking, and elbowed Rudra mid-air. Rudra flew sideways and crashed into a column, coughing.
Raghav roared and charged again. This time, he feinted left and stabbed right.
Sarthak leaned back, let the blade slide past, then delivered a brutal punch to Raghav's ribs that dropped him to his knees.
The sound of bones cracking echoed.
"He's too fast," Rudra muttered, dragging himself up.
But he didn't stop. Blood ran down his forehead, his lip split open. He gripped his daggers tighter and charged again, aiming low. Raghav rose too, wobbling slightly, breathing hard but defiant.
Together, they attacked.
Steel rang, feet shuffled, and grunts filled the courtyard. Sarthak moved like a storm. He ducked, blocked, pivoted, and struck with surgical cruelty.
Rudra managed to graze his shoulder.
Sarthak's eyes flared. He turned on Rudra with a flurry of attacks so fast Rudra could barely see the blades. One dagger flew from Rudra's hand. The second got stuck in Sarthak's left gauntlet. Sarthak used that hand to throw Rudra over his shoulder.
Raghav intervened, swinging wildly. Sarthak took the hit on his armored shoulder, then rammed his head into Raghav's face.
Raghav fell, blood pouring from his nose.
Sarthak stood above them, panting now, his swords dripping red. Not a single cut on his body.
Raghav staggered up, using his sword like a crutch.
Rudra crawled toward the vines scattered around the floor. His hand found a thick one, and he dragged himself to his feet.
Sarthak prepared to finish it.
Raghav charged one last time, screaming.
Sarthak raised both blades.
But Rudra struck. He flung the vine around Sarthak's throat and pulled with all his might.
Sarthak choked, stumbled, and fell backward.
Raghav's sword slashed down—but Sarthak kicked him off and smashed his elbow into Rudra's jaw, snapping the vine. He rolled away, panting, furious, bloodied at last.
"Reinforcements! Now!" Sarthak yelled to one of his soldiers.
The man sprinted toward the gates.
Then—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
A long, deep horn.
Everyone froze.
The horn blared again.
Sarthak's eyes widened.
So did the twins'.
Even Netra looked up, frowning.
"No..." whispered Sarthak.
He turned slowly.
From the hills beyond the courtyard, banners rose. Dark green and gold.
Rankriti!
Sarthak wiped the blood from his mouth. He let out a short, humourless laugh. "This is going to get... complicated."
The priest, still kneeling by the temple's door, whispered a silent prayer.
The battlefield stilled. All eyes turned toward the approaching force.
The reckoning had arrived.