The great gates of Pataliputra's military barracks creaked open as Chandra strutted in like a lion who'd just discovered leg day. His chest gleamed, his calves radiated power, and his smile was as wide as the Ganga on a monsoon morning.
"I am Chandravardhan, son of... uh... destiny and dumbbells. I seek to join the Nanda army!" he declared, slamming his spear into the ground.
An old general, known as General Bahubali, peered over his scroll. A veteran of twelve wars, seventeen injuries, and at least one failed cooking contest, Bahubali raised an eyebrow and muttered, "Another muscle-headed mango wanting to play soldier?"
He grunted. "Fine. We'll give you a test. Four of them, actually. If you win one, you'll be a foot soldier. Two, a squad leader. Three, a team captain. But if you win all four, you'll be my second-in-command."
Chandra flexed. "I'll win five!"
Bahubali choked on his betel leaf. "There are only four!"
"Then I'll win those four so hard, it'll count as five!"
Test One: Fitness Fury
The first test was the battle of fitness. A crowd gathered as Chandra began the gauntlet.
Obstacle one: Lift a cart full of bricks.
Chandra lifted the cart, bricks, and the supervising officer.
Obstacle two: Cross the crocodile-infested river.
Chandra swan-dived in, gave a crocodile a noogie, and used its tail to surf to shore.
Obstacle three: Run across the training yard in under 20 seconds.
Chandra did it in 13, but went back to do it again while moonwalking.
By the end, the scorekeeper's quill was in flames.
Test Two: Skills & Spills
Next, he took on the test of skills. Archery? He shot three arrows at once—one split a tree, one hit the bullseye, and the third carved his initials into the scoreboard.
Throwing knives? His knives shaved the mustache off a statue, diced a watermelon, and pinned a fly to a wall—without killing it.
Swordplay? He danced around four blades at once while whistling the Mahabharata theme.
Spears? He didn't throw them. He punched them into the target.
Test Three: Tame the Untameable
A feral, foaming stallion named Tornado, known for kicking twenty soldiers into retirement, awaited him.
Chandra walked up, looked deep into Tornado's eyes, and whispered, "I know leg day too."
Tornado bowed.
They rode into the sunset.
The crowd wept.
Test Four: Mortal Kombat Festival
General Bahubali was now actively chewing his turban. "You'll face five of my top warriors. Wrestling, archery, swords, spears, and horse racing. Survive, and... and gods help me, I'll salute you myself."
Battle One: Wrestler - Bhima the Bouncer
Bhima had biceps the size of watermelons and the brainpower of one. He charged. Chandra caught him, hugged him, and suplexed him into a well. Bhima emerged later. Enlightened. And with a limp.
Battle Two: Archery Ace - Sharanya "Eagle Eye"
She loosed five arrows. Chandra caught all five. With a ladle he borrowed from the mess hall.
He handed them back and asked for a tea refill.
She blushed. "I surrender."
Battle Three: Swordsman - The Blade Monk
The monk moved like lightning. Chandra moved like thunder—loud, dramatic, and unavoidable.
He disarmed the monk using only his belt, pantsed him, and bowed respectfully. The monk joined his fan club.
Battle Four: Spearman - Kala Ketu
Kala Ketu's spear was enchanted with lightning. Chandra ate a lightning bolt and belched in Morse code.
He then snapped the spear over his thigh and asked for a backup.
Kala Ketu retired to become a potter.
Battle Five: Horse Race - The Royal Derby
Five elite racers. One track. One horse with an attitude problem.
Chandra whispered something into Tornado's ear.
Tornado neighed and grew wings. No one questioned it.
They soared across the finish line, knocking fruit off the judge's stand.
The barracks erupted.
Bahubali knelt dramatically. "From today, you are Chandragupta, General of the Gods!"
Somewhere in the palace, servants ran to deliver the news. And into the ears of one very intrigued princess.
"Princess," said Rani, sipping tea, "Have you heard of this dashing young general? Strong as Bhima, bold as Arjuna, handsome as—well—me."
Durdhara blushed. "I heard he rides a horse that doesn't even listen to the king's trainers."
"He doesn't tame horses. He connects with them,"Rani sighed dramatically. "Oh, and I sketched him."
She handed over a charcoal masterpiece of glistening muscles, hero's jawline, and just enough breeze to hint at divine abs.
Durdhara looked once. Then twice.
Then discreetly rolled it up and hid it in her sleeve.
Raja, now in his Shadow persona, was leaping across rooftops like a caffeinated mongoose.
He'd tracked the kidnappings of women and children to a brutal jungle gang called The Rakshak Rippers, who were working as silent couriers for the king. They never met him—just left people in a cursed grove.
Vishnugupta, the wandering saint, meanwhile had entered the capital, shouting on street corners:
"Darkness consumes us! A demon lurks beneath the gold! The emperor hides behind masks and blood!"
Panic? Check.
Crowds? Check.
Someone fainting from drama? Check.
And then—Rani bowed before the crowd. "This is my revered teacher, Saint Varahamitra! Please, come visit the garden where I serve as humble tea maid."
The princess blinked. "You... serve him?"
"Yes," Rani replied. "For wisdom flows from his words. And chai."
In the royal garden, Vishnugupta sat cross-legged as the princess arrived. She bowed deeply.
Vishnugupta sipped the tea. "Mmm. Earthy. Hints of rebellion."
He peered at Durdhara. "Ah, so this is the princess whose fate is tied to the rising lion."
"My... what now?"
"Give me your palm."
She obeyed. His expressions danced across his face: horror, joy, constipation, enlightenment.
Finally: "A great love nears, but so does great danger. The man you already secretly desire will save you. Bhavani will guide you. And you'll kiss him during a thunderstorm."
She gasped. "W-What?"
Vishnugupta stood. As he walked away, he whispered in Rani's ear.
Durdhara pounced. "What did he say?!"
Rani gave a solemn smile. "He said, when the time comes, seek the one whose soul burns like fire. He will save you."
Later That Night…
The moon rose blood-red over Pataliputra.
The princess lay asleep, dreaming of muscles, lightning, and abs.
A shadow slipped into her room.
A hand over her mouth. A whispered spell. Darkness.
A note on her pillow read:
"FOR THE DARKSIDE."
To be continued…