The Voice
“Did you watch the last fight?” Sabo asked. Her voice carried a calm authority as she studied Yodhika, who stood quietly with her hands at her sides.
“Yes,” Yodhika replied, her tone flat but steady.
“Did you make adjustments to your fight plans?”
“No.”
Sabo’s lips curved with approval. “Good. You already see your victory?”
“Yes,” Yodhika answered, face unmoving, eyes unwavering. Her certainty felt like a physical weight in the air.
Rudhra glanced sideways at her, puzzled by her confidence. A flicker of curiosity crossed his eyes before he turned back toward Sabo.
“Now then, go to your battle positions,” Sabo instructed.
Rudhra obeyed, footsteps echoing lightly. But Yodhika didn’t move.
“Go to your position, Yodhi,” Sabo said again, this time with a hint of confusion.
“This position is fine,” Yodhika murmured, closing her eyes as if shutting out the world.
Sabo watched her for a few seconds, searching for something in her expression. “Fine then,” she said finally, turning away to start the timer.
Ashura entered the platform where Devansh and his family were gathered. His eyes immediately fell on Adhrivan, standing stiffly in a torn combat suit, shoulders slumped as if carrying invisible weight. Ashura walked past him and smacked the back of his head.
“If you don’t pass next time, we won’t need you anymore.”
Adhrivan’s face drained of colour. Fear hollowed his eyes.
Ashura approached Devansh, whose gaze was fixed on something distant, unreadable.
“Did you hand over the sandals to Chaithra?” Devansh asked, still not looking at him.
“Yes, brother,” Ashura replied quickly.
“Good. Let’s move to the meeting room.”
Devansh turned toward the exit. Ashura followed close behind.
“My Lord, aren’t you going to watch the rest of the fight?” Queen Rekha asked gently.
Devansh stopped. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at her. His eyes burned—not with rage, but with a deep, simmering disappointment that struck harder than anger. The Queen lowered her gaze instantly. Without saying a word, Devansh walked away, Ashura hurrying after him.
Back in Site A, Yodhika remained at the center, eyes closed, breathing slow and controlled. The whole arena felt still around her, as if waiting for her next move.
A palm-sized rock shot toward her back, cutting through the air with a sharp whistle. She shifted slightly—barely an inch—and the rock missed. Another rock came from her left. Again, she avoided it effortlessly, her eyes still shut, her movements calm, almost graceful.
Only then did she open her eyes.
She reached to her side and pulled out a knife-sized rod. With a click, it extended on both ends, forming a sleek trident that glinted under the arena lights.
Rudhra burst from behind a building, blindingly fast. His eyes were locked on her, determination burning bright. When he reached five steps from her, Yodhika unleashed a burst of energy—not at him, but downward.
The ground trembled beneath her.
The floor caved in sharply, tilting. Rudhra’s footing vanished. He stumbled forward, helpless, momentum throwing him toward her.
In one precise, merciless motion, Yodhika thrust the trident forward. The blades pierced through his face with a sickening crunch, emerging from the back of his skull. His body jerked as blood spilled, and the metallic smell filled the air.
Yodhika’s breath trembled as she exhaled. Her hands shook—not from fear, but from the intensity of the moment. She looked toward Sabo.
“Good,” Sabo said, clapping softly, impressed but unshaken.
Yodhika pressed the button, the trident collapsing back into a small rod. As soon as it slid free from Rudhra’s head, the wound began to repair itself—bone knitting, skin reforming, blood retracting.
Rudhra gasped and cried out loud as his vision and voice returned due to immense pain. Astonishment filled his eyes a while after his whole face was back to its original state. He wiped the remnants of blood from the back of his head as he slowly got up from the shattered floor.
“Were you able to sense me every time I moved?” he asked, his voice a mixture of awe and confusion.
Yodhika did not answer. Her silence spoke more than words could.
Sabo approached, her expression firm. “From now on, both of you will fight every day until I say so. Understood?”
Rudhra blinked, thrown off by the decision. But Yodhika responded immediately.
“Understood.”
“How many Amrithyas do we need in total?” Devansh asked as he and Ashura sat across from each other in the large, dim meeting room. The emptiness of the space made Ashura’s voice echo slightly as he responded.
“We need two in the USA, two in India, two in China, one in Britain, one in the USSR, one in Germany, and one in Japan. That makes ten.” His fingers tightened slightly as he spoke. “We’ll start with the USA, then India, then move on to the rest.”
“The attack on their foreign bases must be our first priority,” Devansh said. His voice was low but absolute. “Send word to the militants and rebel groups. And according to our agents abroad, there’s a major shift coming in the world power hierarchy.”
He leaned back, eyes narrowing.
“But our plan will continue. No changes. Even if many among us oppose it. Got it?”
“Got it,” Ashura replied, though a faint tension flickered in his eyes.
“We need to find more of Tamaskara. Have we been able to locate additional deposits?” Devansh asked, his tone measured but carrying the weight of expectation.
“Yes,” Ashura replied, shoulders stiffening under his brother’s gaze. “But the weapons we already have—those forged from the Tamaskara we collected—will be enough for our current plan. Chaithra has also synthesized it in gas form. She’ll start crafting weapons from it soon.” He hesitated, then added, “She says even a single unit can kill them in large numbers.”
Devansh’s expression did not shift, but the room seemed to darken around him.
“We take our first step in two years,” he said. “It will begin with you in the US, then India, and the rest after.”
Ashura nodded, though unease flickered in his eyes.
“Fund more into the entertainment and media,” Devansh continued. “Spread fear—of the world ending, of political instability, of each other. Create distrust between states and nations. Support the parties that benefit us. Secure alliances with the weapon conglomerates. When the time comes, humanity must already be afraid—instinctively afraid—and ready to accept its limits.”
“Understood, brother,” Ashura said quietly.
A knock echoed through the room.
Devansh and Ashura exchanged a brief look.
“Enter,” Devansh commanded.
The door opened, and Sabo stepped in with Yodhika at her side. Devansh studied them silently, eyes lingering on the girl.
“She’s the one, huh?” he murmured, not expecting an answer.
He turned his attention fully toward Yodhika.
“You will battle Rudhra every day until Sabo says otherwise. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Yodhika replied to her father, voice calm but her fingers tightening around her sleeve.
“You may leave.”
Sabo bowed and began to turn, but Yodhika did not move.
Her head dropped. A tremor ran through her voice.
“Will…” she whispered. “Will the voices… stop if I do so?”
Ashura jerked upright, shock breaking across his face.
Sabo grabbed Yodhika’s arm sharply, urging her to stop—but it was too late.
Devansh’s eyes flared red.
He rose slowly—too slowly. Rage simmered beneath his stillness.
He stepped toward Yodhika, each step heavier than the last.
A sudden blast of force exploded from his core.
The shockwave slammed into Yodhika like a sledgehammer.
She flew backward and crashed into the closed door with a bone-rattling crack. A strangled scream tore from her throat as blood splattered behind her head. She crumpled to the floor, gasping, hands clutching the back of her skull, tears streaming from the sheer, blinding pain.
“You win one battle,” Devansh snarled, voice shaking with fury, “and you dare speak something so blasphemous in front of your king?”
His anger distorted his features; even Ashura flinched.
“I’m not killing you only because you’re part of our plan,” Devansh growled. “Now get your wound treated and prepare for tomorrow’s battle. Get. Out.”
Yodhika couldn’t stand on her own. Sabo rushed to her, placing Yodhika’s hand over her shoulder, supporting her trembling frame. Blood continued to seep through the girl’s fingers.
Sabo bowed deeply with her head lowered, then guided the limping, whimpering Yodhika out of the room.
The door closed.
Silence settled like dust.
Devansh remained standing, chest rising and falling heavily as he forced himself to calm. Ashura watched him, expression unreadable.
“Calm down, brother,” he said softly.
Devansh finally turned and walked back to his seat. Ashura waited until he sat before speaking again.
“She just asked what’s on everyone’s mind,” Ashura said, voice low.
Devansh’s eyes flashed with a warning, but Ashura raised a hand.
“No need to explode again. I didn’t say it out loud, unlike her. But still… it’s just the two of us. Did you have to hit her like that?”
Devansh didn’t respond at first. The tension in the room tightened further.
Then he said quietly, “She knew she would get hit the moment she opened her mouth.” His fingers curled slowly. “With her sensibility, she could’ve dodged the attack easily—she could’ve countered me. She didn’t. She accepted the blow because she knows I must hit her. Because I am the king.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, supporting his head in his palm.
A long breath escaped him.
“It will stop,” he muttered. “I’m sure. Once we take over the world…”
He paused, uncertainty flickering for the first time.
“…it will stop.”
Ashura nodded, though doubt gnawed faintly at his expression.
“Yes,” he said. “Otherwise… it wouldn’t be telling us to do so.”
(To be continued)
Karun G Nath 
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