Meanwhile, Karna stood quietly beside the bars, but his mind was no longer fully inside that damp underground cell.
Mrinalini's words still echoed in his ears, each sentence striking deeper than he expected. He had listened to her speak with cold authority, watched her look Kamsa in the eyes without fear, watched her condemn him not like an emotional daughter seeking revenge, but like a judge delivering a verdict.
Yet what unsettled Karna was not her hatred.
It was her understanding.
Many of the things she had spoken aloud… he had never spoken them to anyone.
Not to his ministers.
Not to his warriors.
Not to his friends.
Not even to the people of his own kingdom.
He had carried those thoughts like hidden wounds. The guilt of leaving. The pain of losing. The rage he never allowed himself to show. The silent suffering that only Surya Dev had witnessed when Karna stood alone at dawn and poured water toward the sun with trembling hands.
And yet…
Mrinalini spoke as if she had seen inside him.
As if she had walked through the corridors of his heart and touched every scar.
Karna's eyes shifted toward her, and for a moment, his calm expression cracked slightly. Not in weakness, but in something rare.
Admiration.
He had already witnessed her strength on the battlefield, the way she had slaughtered rakshasas like a goddess of destruction. He had seen her rage and her discipline. He had thought that was the most frightening thing about her.
But now he realized her strength was not only in her arms.
It was in her mind.
Her understanding was sharp enough to cut through pride and silence.
Karna stared at her as if he was seeing her again, as if she had become a different person in front of his eyes.
First her strength…
And now her ability to understand pain that was never spoken.
He felt something strange stir inside his chest, a quiet weight, something he quickly forced down before it could grow.
Meanwhile, Kamsa roared again.
The tyrant thrashed against the chains, his wrists bleeding where the iron bit into his skin. His veins bulged, his teeth bared, his eyes burning with hatred. The divine threads in the chains glowed faintly, suppressing the dark power that tried to surge out of his body.
"You dogs!" he screamed. "You insects!"
He spat on the floor, then laughed harshly, his voice echoing against the stone walls.
"You think you've won? You think this is a victory?" he snarled. "I will tear your head off, Suryaputra! I will drink your blood and feed your bones to the jackals!"
His gaze snapped to Mrinalini.
"And you!" he shouted. "A filthy woman daring to speak like a queen! You should have been on your knees begging for mercy! Kashi will burn with you and your entire family."
Insults poured from him like poison.
He cursed Karna's birth.
He mocked his dharma.
He mocked Surya Dev.
He mocked Kashi.
He mocked the dead king and queen.
He spoke as if his mouth was the only weapon he had left, and he wanted to stab them with it until his last breath.
Karna listened until the end, standing there with calm eyes, letting Kamsa spit out every last ounce of filth he had stored inside his heart.
Mrinalini's fingers tightened, her nails digging into her palm, but she remained silent as well.
Finally, Kamsa's voice cracked, and his breath turned harsh.
He slumped slightly, still chained, still furious, but exhausted from screaming.
Only then did Karna speak, with his voice was quiet, almost casual. "Alright," Karna said with a nod.
Kamsa's eyes widened slightly, expecting rage, expecting threats.
Karna's gaze remained steady. "We will not hang you," Karna said. "As we decided beforehand."
Kamsa blinked, confused.
Karna continued. "You wanted a fight," he said. "You will get your fight."
Mrinalini turned sharply toward Karna, her eyes widening.
"Karna…" she whispered, the name carrying warning.
Karna glanced at her.
His voice remained calm, but his eyes held a firm seriousness. "It is not because I am provoked or my dharma is challenged by him, Princess," he said. "It is because we have to fulfill the last wish before one's death and since Kamsa wanted his death in a wrestling match, it will be done this way..."
Mrinalini's lips parted, but she did not argue. Something about the way he said it made her swallow her words.
Karna turned his gaze back to Kamsa. "Tomorrow," he said, "in front of everyone's eyes, we will battle to the death in wrestling. No astras. No weapons."
Kamsa's grin widened, his teeth looking almost animal. "So you will die like a man," he hissed. "Good."
Karna leaned slightly forward, his eyes sharpening. "However, I do not trust you," he said coldly. "Not even for a single breath. So until tomorrow, you will remain in this same state. Bound. Powerless. Waiting."
Kamsa's grin faltered for a moment.
He yanked at the chains again, but they didn't move.
His expression twisted.
"You coward!" he spat.
Karna did not respond.
His decision had already been made.
*
Soon, Karna turned away from the cell.
His footsteps echoed on the stone floor, slow and controlled, as if he had all the time in the world. Mrinalini followed him, her armor clinking softly as she walked behind. The torches on the walls flickered as they passed, their shadows stretching long across the corridor.
Behind them, Kamsa continued to struggle and shout.
His curses chased them like rats in the dark.
Karna didn't stop walking.
But as he reached the doorway, he paused.
He turned his head slightly, looking back over his shoulder.
His eyes were calm, yet his voice carried a coldness that made the air itself seem to freeze.
"Those chains," Karna said, "are imbued with the power of my divinity and my devotional energy," he added.
A faint smile touched his lips, but it was not warm. It was the kind of smile a warrior gives before delivering a final warning.
"If you are capable of breaking my devotion," Karna said quietly, "then you can try."
Kamsa's jaw tightened at those words.
His nostrils flared.
He yanked at the chains again with all his strength.
The divine glow flared.
And in the next instant, pain shot through his arms, and he roared like a wounded beast.
Karna turned away again and walked out without another glance.
The heavy door shut behind them with a loud clang.
The sound echoed through the underground halls like the closing of fate itself.
*
The palace corridors above were silent.
Too silent.
The Sammohanastra still held the entire city in its grip. Soldiers lay unconscious in their posts. Servants lay collapsed beside half-carried trays. The palace lamps flickered quietly, burning for no one.
Karna walked through the halls without hurry, as if the sleeping palace was nothing more than an empty temple.
Mrinalini followed a few steps behind.
She kept staring at him.
Not openly like a child, but quietly, as if her eyes had developed a habit they could no longer control. She watched the straightness of his back, the calmness in his steps, the way his presence made even silence feel disciplined.
She had seen many kings.
She had seen many warriors.
But Karna was different.
There was no arrogance in him.
No hunger for praise.
No need to prove himself.
He simply carried dharma like it was a part of his bones.
As they walked, Mrinalini's expression softened for a moment, and something painful flickered in her eyes.
A name surfaced in her mind.
Dhavani.
Her dear friend.
Her sister in everything except blood.
The friend she had once spoken to about dreams, about marriage, about life.
Mrinalini lowered her gaze slightly, her footsteps slowing for half a heartbeat.
Inside her chest, a quiet guilt twisted.
"I'm truly sorry, Dhavani," she apologized silently in her heart. "Previously, I didn't have any dreams of my husband. My marriage was fixed when I was a child. It was decided before I even understood what love meant."
She looked at Karna's back again.
The guilt grew heavier.
"But now that I do…"
Her fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of her saree.
"I don't even want to think of anyone else but Karna."