The arrow streaked from Indra's bow like a flash of divine light, parting the clouds in its wake. In an instant, it split into two, multiplying as it surged toward Hayagriva.
Hayagriva's sharp eyes flickered with recognition. With a swift tilt of his head, he narrowly evaded the first, but the second struck true, piercing his neck. His body froze. Then, with a quiet snap, the arrow shattered and fell, tumbling toward the churning Kshira Sagara below.
A low chuckle rumbled from Hayagriva's throat. "Heh… hehehe… Hahahahaha~" The laughter grew, echoing across the celestial battlefield. He lowered his head slowly, watching the broken arrow fall before raising a hand. With a flick of his fingers, the fragmented bone shot back up, drawn into his grasp like a wayward servant returning to its master.
Crunch. Crunch.
Hayagriva rolled the white bone between his fingers, his golden eyes narrowing as recognition dawned. His grip tightened. For a moment, he was silent—then, a bitter laugh rumbled from his throat.
"Ah… so this is what you used?" His voice was laced with disbelief, his lip curling into a sneer. "The bones from that wretched game? The dice from Chausar?"
His fingers clenched, and the brittle remains of the stolen relic cracked softly in his grasp.
"You truly are pathetic, Indra." His golden eyes burned with scorn as he lifted the fragment to the light, letting it gleam between his fingertips. "You would take the remnants of a game... a game!—and believe it could seal my fate?"
His sneer widened into a savage grin.
"Hahaha! You fools!" His laughter boomed across the battlefield. "Do you not understand? My boon is absolute—only a being like me can end me!" He spread his arms wide, exulting in his own unbreakable nature. "This bone was once part of me, yes… but it is not me! It is a discarded piece, tainted by the hands of gods and gamblers alike! How could something so impure possibly destroy me?"
His laughter grew, wild and triumphant, echoing into the heavens.
"I am unique! The only horse-headed being who achieved so much in the entire existence! There is no other. There will never be another!"
His gaze snapped to Indra, his smile twisting into something cruel. "You seem quite attached to that white horse," Hayagriva mused, tilting his head. "Very well. Then I shall slaughter it!"
With a smooth, practiced motion, he drew his bowstring taut, the celestial weapon bending like the full moon. A flickering inferno crackled at his fingertips as he nocked a blazing arrow, its light reflected in his smirking eyes. "Die!" The fiery projectile formed at full draw, its divine flames writhing with destructive intent.
But at that very moment—
A streak of light pierced through the battlefield, cutting through the chaos like fate itself. It wasn't just any light. It was the arrow that Hayagriva had dodged moments ago. It had returned. Like a vengeful ghost, it twisted through the sky and struck true, smashing against Hayagriva's bowstring.
CRACK!
A deafening explosion erupted, splitting the heavens apart. Thunder rolled across the sea of milk, sending waves crashing outward in every direction. A dazzling bolt of lightning flashed through the storm, illuminating the battlefield in brilliant white. And in the heart of the chaos, something gave way.
Hayagriva's bowstring snapped. The severed cord lashed out violently, its sharp recoil slicing through the air and cutting across Hayagriva's own neck.
For a moment, he stood motionless. His stance remained unbroken, his arms still frozen in the posture of his final attack. Then the silence broke.
A thin crimson line appeared across his throat. A single droplet of blood welled up, trembling for an instant before slipping free and rolling down his neck. From the wound, a radiant Vedic light began to shine. It was golden and divine, like the first light of dawn rising over the edge of the world.
Indra stepped forward, his divine bow still in hand. His expression remained unreadable as he strode across the churning Sea of Milk, each step undisturbed by the crashing waves beneath him. Behind him, his white horse neighed frantically, its cries carrying over the battlefield, but Indra's gaze never wavered.
He stopped just before Hayagriva.
"It's true," Indra said, his voice calm, deliberate. "I cannot kill you."
His eyes gleamed as he tilted his bow slightly, divine lightning still crackling along its edges.
"But breaking a bowstring?" His lips curved into a smirk. "That's not so difficult."
The last flickers of wisdom and clarity shone in Hayagriva's eyes. His voice trembled as he muttered to himself, "Th-Those… last verses…" His breath came in ragged gasps. The golden eyes that once brimmed with arrogance now swam with desperation.
"How… how… how did they escape my grasp?"
With each word, the golden radiance of the Vedas flared brighter around the wound on his neck. The divine energy pulsed violently, surging as though it would burst free at any moment.
Yet still, he did not understand.
He had wielded the knowledge of the cosmic storm, drawn wisdom from the very fabric of the universe itself. He had seized the Vedas, believing them to be treasures, and hoarded them as if their power could be possessed. He had taken them away towards the depths of the cosmic ocean, thinking that by keeping them from creation, he could claim dominion over all wisdom.
But the Vedas are not meant to be imprisoned. They are not possessions to be claimed by a single being.
They belong to the cosmos.
"Why…?" he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. "Why did it fail…?"
Indra stepped forward, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head.
"I'll grant you this last answer."
His voice was steady, not mocking, not triumphant. Only honest.
"You thought wisdom was meant to be kept for yourself. But the Vedas are not meant to be hoarded. They are the breath of creation itself, flowing through existence, sustaining the cycle of dharma. You sought to contain them, to break the cycle. But knowledge that does not flow stagnates. That which is not shared loses its purity."
The golden radiance around Hayagriva's wound intensified. His breath hitched, his vision blurred.
Indra's gaze was unwavering as he spoke the final truth.
"You may wield wisdom, Hayagriva. You may even glimpse the fabric of existence. But you cannot outrun fate."
A hush fell over the battlefield. The very air trembled with an unseen force.
"Pralaya is inevitable."
Hayagriva's eyes widened.
A bitter chuckle escaped Hayagriva's lips. His golden eyes, though dimming, still burned with defiance.
"And what of Brahma? What of Vishnu?" His voice wavered, but the challenge in it remained. "If all things must dissolve, what becomes of them?"
Indra exhaled, his gaze unwavering. "Brahmadev is bound to the cycle of time. When Pralaya comes, he too will fade, only to be born again when the next creation begins." His voice held neither scorn nor pity. It was the truth.
He lifted his bow slightly, divine lightning still humming at its edges. "Vishnu does not perish, nor does he escape it. When the dissolution of all worlds begins, he lies upon the endless waters, cradling the cosmos in the silence of his breath. He dreams the universe anew, but even he cannot halt the cycle."
Indra's gaze darkened, the weight of understanding settling upon his shoulders. "None can stop it. Not you. Not me. Not even Mahadeva himself. Shiva does not fall into dissolution. He is the witness to it. He is the stillness beyond creation, the unchanging truth that remains when all else is washed away."
The truth of it settled into Hayagriva's very bones. His breath turned shallow.
Indra narrowed his eyes. "If a truth can be bypassed, then it is no truth at all. The true, ultimate reality cannot be evaded. It has no conditions, no exceptions. It simply is."
His voice grew quieter.
"And you, Hayagriva… you have tried to evade it."
A pulse of divine energy surged outward.
"But have you ever stopped to wonder…" Indra's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, "If this is the first time?"
A shudder ran through Hayagriva's fading form.
"How many cycles have there been before this one?" Indra mused. "How many times have you clung to the Vedas? How many times have you hoarded them, believing yourself above the order of things? And how many times… have you failed?"
A terrible thought took root in Hayagriva's mind.
Was this the first time?
Or had he done this before? Had he tried this in countless cycles, only to fall each time? Had he, in some forgotten age, spoken these very same words, felt this very same despair, only for it all to be erased so that he could try again?
Indra watched him, waiting.
Then a pulse of divine energy surged outward.
FWOOM!
In an instant, streaks of radiant sunlight flared around Indra's body, wrapping him in golden brilliance. The third layer of Sahasrakavacha emerged, gleaming with divine power.
This time, he had condensed it with just nine hundred years of arduous penance.
A mere fraction of his dedication.
Yet, it was enough.
The divine armor shimmered, its radiant layers impervious to wind, rendering the cosmic storm powerless against him. It was a simple yet profound truth.
For in this vast cosmos, all things were woven from the Pancha Mahabhutas—earth, water, fire, air, and ether. To transcend even one was to render vast domains of power futile.
And Hayagriva had no counter.
A deep sigh left the Asura's lips. His golden eyes flickered. First in defiance, then in resignation. He had hoarded the Vedas, believing their wisdom belonged to him alone, yet he had failed to grasp their true nature.
He had sought to chain knowledge, yet knowledge had unbound him.
His breath came in shuddering gasps, his once-imposing form trembling.
Yet, at the very end, a shadow of a smile played on his lips.
His voice, though weak, still held a trace of amusement.
"Futile… all of it… The Kala Chakra never ceases."
A low chuckle followed, bitter yet knowing.
"Tell me, Indra… when the next Kalpa dawns, will I rise again? Will you stand before me once more? How many times has this played out?"
His golden eyes, once brimming with arrogance, now held something else. A glimpse of Mahashunya, the great void, the inexorable dissolution of all things.
Perhaps this was not the first time he had fought.
Perhaps it would not be the last.
But Pralaya is the only truth.
Even Shiva, the destroyer himself, cannot halt it. He can only embrace it.
Hayagriva exhaled one final time. His body succumbed to the inevitable.
Then, his severed head fell.
SPLASH.
The cosmic ocean swallowed him whole. His form dissolved into the formless waters of creation.
The air trembled. The battle was over.
And far above, the Vedas shimmered, free once more. Their eternal wisdom remained untouched by time.
A pillar of golden light erupted from the wound, piercing the dark skies above the Sea of Milk. From within that divine radiance, four sacred texts emerged, floating free from Hayagriva's broken form.
The Four Vedas.
The battlefield trembled at their presence. The very air shuddered as their sacred radiance dispelled the lingering shadows, illuminating the heavens with eternal wisdom.
Indra stepped forward. Without hesitation, he lifted his hands.
Fwoosh!
The scriptures descended gently, aligning themselves in perfect harmony before settling into his grasp. For a long moment, he simply stood there, gazing down at them.
Their outward form was unassuming, akin to ancient tomes, weighty in his hands. But he knew better.
Indra exhaled softly, a flicker of amusement glinting in his eyes.
"The foundation of the universe's wisdom, wrapped in something that looks sturdy enough to strike down an asura…" He smirked. "Truly, never judge a book by its cover."
His gaze lifted to the sky, voice quiet but firm.
"And yet… You were spared, Hayagriva. Not by fate, but by the mercy of those far greater than I."
He looked beyond the horizon, as if addressing the silent heavens.
"Vishnu and Shiva, they honor every boon and every curse. Not because they are bound by law, but because they uphold the law. Karma and penance shape the fates of gods and demons alike. Even your defiance, your theft, was permitted to unfold… because it had to."
Indra's eyes narrowed, reverence and gravity in his tone.
"But if they had truly willed your end, if they had so much as breathed the thought that you should perish… You would have been erased the moment you conceived your crime."
He held the Vedas close, the divine tomes pulsing softly in his arms.
"Your fall was not punishment. It was released. And your curse, Hayagriva, was never a shield. It was a mirror."
But before he could dwell further.
Four golden wisps rose from the Vedas, weaving together like strands of celestial light. In an instant, they surged toward him, shooting straight into his forehead.
BOOM!
A silent detonation rippled through the depths of his mind.
A flood of revelation.
His breath caught. His vision blurred. Sacred truths spiraled through his consciousness in boundless patterns of knowledge beyond the grasp of mortals, beyond even devas.
His eyes widened.
For an instant, he saw it.
The immutable laws of Dharma. The illusory nature of all existence. The great veil of Maya that enshrouded creation itself.
And yet—
As swiftly as it had come, the truth eluded him, slipping from his grasp like water through open fingers.
"I… I almost understood…" he murmured, his brows knitting together.
"…Maya?"
Slowly, his gaze lowered to the Vedas resting in his hands. Their golden aura pulsed softly, shimmering like distant stars, offering wisdom beyond measure.
A quiet determination settled in his heart.
From this moment on, he knew that he would carry these Vedas with him. He would meditate upon them in his penance.
And perhaps, in time, he would unlock their deepest secrets.
With that thought, Indra cast a final glance at the fallen Asura.
The corpse of Hayagriva floated lifelessly upon the celestial waters. Bathed in the sacred radiance of the Vedas, their form began to change. Little by little, dissolving into shimmering foam. Their dark essence purified, merging at last with the Sea of Milk.
And then it was gone.
Indra exhaled softly.
With a quiet shake of his head, he tightened his grip on the Vedas and strode forward. He did not linger.
Mounting his white steed, he seized the reins and spurred it onward.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The King of Horses galloped across the endless ocean, its silken tail flowing behind it like a banner of light. With each stride, golden waves rippled outward, glistening beneath the vast sky.
And above it all—
The radiance of the Vedas illuminated the world once more.
"Vedas…"
From the heights of Mount Kailash, Lord Shiva stood in silent vigil, his Trishul resting lightly in his grasp. His deep gaze followed the streak of divine light that cut across the horizon, its brilliance reflected in his tranquil eyes.
A quiet murmur left his lips.
Beside him, Devi Parvati smiled.
Moments ago, anger had burned in her heart, fierce and unyielding. Now, it had vanished, dissipating like morning mist beneath the rising sun. Peace settled over her, as gentle as the touch of a cool breeze.
The air itself seemed to rejoice.
Soft celestial music flowed through the heavens, its melodies filled with both joy and reverence. A chorus of immortals and sages pressed their hands together in gratitude, their eyes glistening with tears.
The great sacred bull, Nandi, let out a deep, satisfied breath. His mighty frame stood steady, his gaze warm with devotion. And across the divine realms, laughter and prayers mingled as the celestial hosts celebrated the return of sacred wisdom.
—
Far above, in the highest dimension, even above Svarga. Satyaloka.
Brahma stirred.
A flicker of golden light flashed in his countless eyes.
He blinked. Then again.
His breath caught, and for a fleeting moment, the expression of the great Creator was one of pure astonishment.
Then a radiant smile spread across his face.
"The Vedas…!"
"They have returned!"
Joy surged through him, bright and overwhelming. Without hesitation, Brahma moved his very being, dissolving into golden radiance as he stepped across realms, drawn inexorably toward what had been lost and now restored.
—
The clash of steel and the roars of Madhu and Kaitabha thundered through the void. The twin asuras circled him in rage, their voices rising like storms. Blades of chaos, forged from arrogance and fury, slashed toward him from every side.
Vishnu did not move.
His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, upon the glow rising from the Kshira Sagara. The Vedas had returned. Their sacred light shone once more upon the world, and the balance of dharma had been restored.
Madhu bellowed, his voice cracking with frustration. "You ignore us? Still? After all this time?"
Kaitabha hurled a spear of shadow, its edges hissing with venom. "Do you mock us, Vishnu? Turn your back on battle?"
The weapon shattered before it reached him.
Vishnu remained silent. His face betrayed no emotion. He was not deaf to their fury, only beyond its reach.
He lifted one hand. The motion was effortless, as if it required no thought.
From his fingers, the Sudarshana Chakra spun forth. It did not strike the demons. It did not even glance in their direction. Instead, it flew out into the darkness, a wheel of eternal light spinning beyond time and form.
Its purpose had already been fulfilled.
The cycle was whole once more.
A tremor passed through the universe—not of fear, but of alignment. The breath of creation settled back into rhythm.
Madhu and Kaitabha stared in disbelief, their rage now edged with uncertainty.
And far below, Indra rode on. Across the infinite sea, the Vedas held close to his chest, he moved like the wind of destiny itself.
Above him, the stars shone with renewed clarity.
---
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