Subha and Niraj walked for some time
The town they arrived at was called Arka; it was the closest town to the gurukul.
it was located near the forest, close to the border.
It was the farthest town from any other settlement, isolated and quiet in its own way.
Niraj and Subha walked along a terracotta path, a narrow water canal flowing beside the road.
The houses here were built entirely of marble, their surfaces smooth and pale under the light.
As they walked, they saw many Vanar—a distinct race from humans.
This city had provided them a place to live, standing as one of the few towns where humans and Vanar coexisted openly.
According to history, it was said that Lord Hanuman visits Arka at fixed intervals of time.
The design of the houses was simple yet practical.
A raised platform ran along the front, used as a walking path, and behind it were the rooms where people lived.
They passed through marketplaces, entertainment districts,
and crowded streets filled with noise and colour, yet neither of them showed any interest.
Their focus lay elsewhere.
Eventually, they reached an open area filled with carts.
It seemed like an arrival or departure point.
People were constantly arriving and leaving, their voices overlapping, their wheels creaking against the stone.
Despite being on the outskirts of the town, the place was crowded.
Perhaps it was because of the story of the presence of Lord Hanuman.
They climbed into a cart.
Subha explained the destination, and soon the cart began to move.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
They sat in silence, not exchanging a single word.
It felt as if neither of them was interested in starting a conversation with someone new.
After some time, Niraj finally broke the silence.
"For a town from the Dwapar Yug," he said, "it looks surprisingly new."
Subha glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She remained quiet for a moment before deciding to respond.
"It has a long history," she said calmly, "one that isn't shared with people from other lands."
Niraj turned slightly toward her.
"It seems like you know a lot about it," he said. "You might as well start talking. I think this journey is going to be a long one."
Subha sighed.
She had heard his words, yet it felt as though she was listening to him only because she had witnessed his power long ago.
Still, there was no arrogance in her tone—only quiet certainty. Their conversation carried mutual respect.
"During the time of the Mahabharata," Subha began, "Lord Krishna was cursed to face the downfall of everything he had, so balance could be maintained.
He could have escaped that curse if he wished."
She paused.
"But it was his choice to accept it."
"Because of that curse," she continued, "Dwarka sinks beneath the sea every few centuries. Each time, a new Dwarka is built from scratch. The sunken Dwarkas don't remain empty—they are claimed by other species."
"They'll be coming here as well," she added. "For the competition."
When she finished speaking, the cart continued rolling forward, the sound of wheels filling the brief silence.
Then Subha asked,
"I know you're a Varis, but why didn't you use your surname when you introduced yourself?"
Niraj gave her a serious glance.
"I could say the same about you,"
He replied, then laughed softly. His tone carried sarcasm, but no hostility.
"In this world, only the Vāris use surnames," he continued. "No one else does."
Subha didn't let the topic drop.
"I know you're from the main family of Haspur," she said. "You're the king's son."
She hesitated for a moment, then continued,
"I have a proposal for you."
She spoke for several minutes, her voice steady, measured.
When she finished, Niraj didn't respond immediately. Then he said, simply,
"I'm not interested."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Neither of them spoke again.
The cart moved forward, carrying them toward their destination.
After a few hours, they finally arrived at Shanksh, the place where the first match of the competition would take place.
Shanksh looked completely different from traditional Dwarka.
There was no elegance, no grandeur.
The structures felt unplanned, almost crude.
Only a single road stretched ahead, lined with small shops and a few customers. Nothing about the place felt impressive.
Subha and Niraj decided to part ways there.
She explained where he needed to go for the competition—information she had received through letters from Arjun.
After that, she turned and left without another word.
Niraj walked on alone.
After some time, he finally saw it—a massive stadium rising ahead of him.
He entered.
To his surprise, the arena didn't contain a field. Instead, the entire area was filled with water, its surface still and reflective.
He approached the registration area, gave his name, received a name tag, and was assigned a room inside the stadium. The competition was scheduled to begin the next day.
The room was small but comfortable. A sturdy bed stood in the corner, and enough food had been provided to last until morning.
Without a trace of nervousness, Niraj lay down.
As sleep slowly took him, one thing was clear—
He was confident.