The "Fire of Chandrapur" wasn't just a weapon—it was a signal. Artisans, farmers, even runaway slaves flocked to Virat's banner, desperate for a piece of his magic. Chandrapur's population doubled in months, and Virat put them to work. He built a waterwheel forge, its rhythmic thuds echoing through the jungle. Arjun, his smith, was a genius with iron, but Virat took it further. "Mix charcoal in the melt," he instructed, recalling modern steel-making. The result? Steel-tipped arbalest bolts that could punch through armor like it was paper. Paired with the rockets, Chandrapur's tiny army became a nightmare.
Virat didn't stop at weapons. He minted silver pana coins with a saffron lotus stamp—no more bartering headaches. Merchants loved it, and trade boomed. He built a bamboo paper mill, churning out cheap manuscripts for his gurukul kids. Farmers learned crop math, kids built toy windmills, and ideas spread like wildfire. Chandrapur's markets overflowed—silks, spices, ethanol—drawing traders from as far as the Deccan.
Kalinga's Raja Bhima wasn't about to let his humiliation slide. He allied with Malwa, gathering 10,000 men and war elephants draped in iron. Virat's spies, a scrappy bunch of kids he'd trained to eavesdrop, brought the news. He fortified Chandrapur's walls with sloped bastions—future-tech stuff that made ladders useless. His ashvaka drilled volleys, arbalests firing in sync while rockets reloaded. The Battle of the Godavari was a massacre. Rockets spooked the elephants, making them trample their own men. Steel bolts shredded the rest. Bhima begged for mercy, ceding borderlands to save his skin.
Victory made Chandrapur untouchable. Caravans stretched for miles, and Virat used the wealth to build aqueducts—clean water for all. He married Rajkumari Lakshmi of Magadha, a brainy princess who knew the Arthashastra like her own name. She revamped Chandrapur's finances, taxing smart, not hard, and turned the treasury into a gold mine. Together, they hosted poets and scholars, making Chandrapur a cultural hotspot—Vedic chants mixed with math debates under lantern-lit skies. But trouble brewed. Whispers of Virat's "sorcery" reached Pataliputra. Emperor Samudragupta wanted to meet the man behind the fire. Virat gripped his khanda, knowing this could make or break his dream.