Dharam stood in the heart of the battlefield—veins bulging, sweat trailing down his temples. His chest heaved with each breath, but his eyes remained sharp—unyielding.
WHOOSH—BAM—WHOOSH—BOOM.
Zorwath struck again and again—each blow dark and vicious, pulsing with corrupted energy.
Dharam deflected them all—arms weaving like a masterful dance, feet barely shifting, body rooted like an ancient tree.
The soldiers who still stood watched in awed silence. Some clenched their weapons tighter; others dared not blink.
Aamir's heart pounded like a drum inside his chest.
"How can he still stand against that monster… alone?!"
Beside him, Seenu whispered hoarsely, "That's not a man… that's a force of nature."
In the distance, Aamir watched—jaw clenched, heart racing.
"He's only taken one step… and he's holding him back?!"
Beside him, King Veerendra's voice rumbled with caution:
