The next night;
Only a thin crescent moon hung low, its pale light barely touching the rooftops. Inside the royal bedchamber, Karna slept beside Roshini—his arm draped protectively over her, her breathing slow and even, the gentle rise of her belly pressing against him.
Peace held for a few quiet hours before the barrier trembled.
Karna's eyes snapped open at once. No grogginess, no delay. He immediately slipped from the bed without waking Roshini, bare feet silent on the cool marble floor. He crossed to the wide balcony and stepped out into the night air.
The wind had turned wrong in the city.
It started as a low moan, then grew sharp and angry. Trees bent sideways in the palace gardens.
Dust swirled in sudden spirals along the streets below.
Roofs creaked.
Shutters rattled.
People began to wake—lamps flickering to life in windows, voices calling out in alarm.
The entire city felt the assault of violent gusts whipping through narrow lanes, tearing at clotheslines, scattering market stalls that had been left uncovered.
Karna's jaw tightened at the scene.
Without any hesitation, he raised his right hand. Vijayadhanush appeared in his grip, string humming faintly as he drew it back.
"Vayavya Astra," he began to chant the mantra of this divyastra of the Vayu, the Wind God.
As soon as the arrow that formed between his fingers glowed pale blue, he loosed it high into the sky above the city.
Under Karna's will, the divyastra seized every rogue gust tearing through Kanipura. In the matter of seconds, the violent winds slowed, twisted, and bent to his command.
Instead of attacking the city, they turned protective—circling the city like a living shield alongside the barrier. The streets quieted almost at once. People who were peeking out of their windows paused, looking up in wonder as the storm died in moments.
In the dim silver light of the crescent moon, Karna's sharp eyes then caught movement high above the northern wall. A towering shape hung in the air with an upper body massive and muscled, but a lower half a mini tornado of dust and debris. The demon's eyes burned like coals.
"Another asura… Yes, it was indeed not a rogue attack as I suspected. Someone is behind the scenes."
Karna then closed his eyes for only a heartbeat. When he opened them again, the bow was already drawn once more. A new arrow took shape—crimson, flickering with inner heat.
"Agneyastra," he said softly to the blazing arrow. "Go. Eliminate the asura who dares trouble my city."
He released.
*Swoosh*
The blazing arrow streaked upward, cutting through the night like a streak of flames.
Meanwhile, high above the city, Trinavarta snarled in frustration. His first assault had been smothered before it could truly begin. His winds stolen, and his surprise attack died. Rage boiled in him at once.
He gathered power for a second strike, the tornado beneath him swelling wider, ready to slam down onto the sleeping streets.
Just then, he saw the arrow coming straight for his chest. "Wha..." Trinavarta's eyes widened, seeing a powerful divine arrow.
He lashed out with a howling vortex, trying to deflect it, to swallow the fire in the wind.
However, the Agneyastra passed through the gale like it was nothing. Flames fed on the very air Trinavarta commanded.
Before he could react, the arrow struck dead center in his chest.
*Graaaaaah*
A scream ripped across the sky, raw and echoing.
Fire bloomed outward, turning the demon's tornado into a blazing tornado, and began to burn him.
*Graaaaah*
Trinavarta's screams echoed all over the city, waking up every citizen. His body thrashed as he crashed to the ground outside the northern gate in a shower of ash and embers.
When the dust settled, only a charred husk remained with blackened bones and smoking flesh.
Meanwhile, at the palace, Karna leaped from the balcony. He landed lightly on the ground, taking a horse of a soldier nearby, and began to ride toward the fallen demon. By the time he arrived, many citizens had already gathered, holding torches high. The flickering light played across frightened faces. Soldiers appeared from the shadows, bowing low.
"Maharaj."
Karna stepped through the circle without a word. He looked down at the corpse, face hard with resolve.
"Second asura in three days," he said quietly. "This is no coincidence. I cannot treat it lightly anymore."
He knelt before the charred body. The heat still radiated from it, but he placed his palm flat against the blackened chest without flinching. He closed his eyes.
"Mahadeva, I need your help this time… Please let this work..."
In the next instant, a soft golden glow appeared on his forehead. A third eye formed in the middle of his forehead, not a real eye, but more like some sort of energy.
As his divine vision unleashed onto the corpse that had committed an adharmic act, visions flooded in.
He saw the asura—Trinavarta—standing in a grand chamber of black marble. A massive figure sat on a high throne, face twisted in anger. Words passed between them, too distant to hear clearly. Then the demon bowed and left—flying north to south, toward Kanipura.
Karna opened his eyes. The third eye faded.
"Kamsa," he murmured.
He rose slowly. The name settled heavily in his chest.
Jarasandha's offer flashed through his mind—the willingness to break ties with Mathura for the sake of an alliance, even a marriage. Karna had refused both. Politely. Firmly. Yet now demons came.
How did Kamsa get to know of it? Did Jarasandha already mention it to Kamsa, or did his spies somehow manage to get the news?
But in the first place, why did Kamsa even try to send a demon? Was it wounded pride? Jealousy? Or simply the nature of a tyrant who crushed anything that refused to bend?
Karna didn't dwell longon Kamsa's intentions. He knew Kamsa's reputation—cruel, paranoid, ruled by ego and adharma. This kind of act fits perfectly with the personality of Mathura's King.
And in that moment, something hardened inside him. He would not wait for the next attack. He would need to act.
He turned to the gathered crowd.
"Go back to your homes," he said gently but firmly. "The danger has passed. You are safe tonight. Sleep."
People bowed, murmured thanks, and began to disperse, torches bobbing away into the dark streets.
Karna looked at his soldiers. "Summon the ministers. Urgent assembly. Now."
The courtroom filled quickly despite the hour. Lamps burned bright along the walls. Ministers arrived in hastily tied dhotis and shawls, faces serious. They took their places on low cushions in a semicircle before the throne.
Karna stood before them, still in the simple night clothes he had slept in.
"It is Kamsa," he said without preamble. "King of Mathura. He sent both asuras."
A ripple of shock passed through the room.
One minister leaned forward. "Maharaj… Mathura is far to the north-west. We have no direct relations with them—neither friendship nor enmity. Why would Kamsa target us?"
Another added, "And why now? What have we done to provoke him?"
Karna's voice stayed calm. "When a man follows adharma and feeds his ego like a fire, this is what happens. He lashes out at anything that refuses to bow. I rejected Jarasandha's offer to ally with him because of Mathura. Perhaps Kamsa sees that as an insult. Perhaps he fears losing his strongest ally. Or perhaps he simply hates anyone who stands independent. It doesn't matter anymore."
He paused.
"However, there is no need to declare war either. Just raise the borders to high alert. Double the watch on every pass."
He looked around the circle.
"Also, send word to Uttara Kalinga at once. Tell them to tighten their own defenses. Any army coming south must pass through Uttara Kalinga or brave the northern mountains of Utkala—either way, the path is narrow and hard. Utkala is our ally through them; they will not aid Kamsa. The southern route through Andhra is longer, more exposed. So, if there is war, Uttara Kalinga will be the one that will face the attack."
The ministers nodded, already moving to carry out orders.
By dawn, the letter had been sent north.
In Uttara Kalinga's capital, King Chitrangada read the message by torchlight. He asked no questions. He simply wrote a short reply: "Dakshina Kalinga stands with us. We stand with you. Borders will be strengthened. Whatever comes, we hold together."
The letter flew south on swift horseback.
Far away in Mathura, Kamsa stood on his palace terrace, staring north as the first gray light touched the horizon. A scout knelt before him, head bowed as he reported the news of Kanipura. "Another failure, Maharaj. Trinavarta is dead. The city stands untouched. Not a single casuality occured."
Kamsa's hand clenched around the stone railing until the marble cracked.
"Dead without even any significant results," he repeated, voice low and venomous. "Again."
The scout hesitated. "And… Uttara Kalinga has also raised its defenses. High alert along every pass. Scouts report increased patrols and new watchtowers being raised. I believe they were preparing for a war."
Kamsa's eyes widened. Misunderstanding from the scout's words made him flare in anger. "They want to attack me?" he snarled. "Both kingdoms? They dare?"
He turned sharply, robes whipping.
"Alright… Then, they will be the first to fall. Vyomasura. Aghasura. Bakasura. Come before me..."