Chapter Text
"I believe you know who they are."
Kashyapa's voice was quiet but piercing, his gaze unwavering as he pointed to the three looming statues. His eyes, heavy with wisdom, settled on Vajranga.
"Of course I do," Vajranga replied at once, almost scoffing. "Hiranyaksha. Hiranyakashipu. And… Hayagriva."
They were not just names to him. They were kin in spirit and blood. Hiranyaksha and Hiranyakashipu were Daityas of unmatched might, born of Diti and the sage Kaśyapa, his elder brothers in both lineage and legacy. Hayagriva, his blood brother among the Dānavas, was born of Danu, proud and mad in intellect.
They had ruled before him. Kings of the Asura race, monarchs of myth and blood. Their names were etched into the bones of the world, their legends known to every child of Diti and Danu.
"You know the blessing Hiranyaksha received, don't you?" Kashyapa asked, his voice low, each word carved with intent.
Vajranga's gaze darkened. He gave a slow nod.
"He was immune to death by any creature born of the three realms. Deva, Asura, Nāga, Gandharva, beast, Yaksha, or human. None among them could touch him. Not by steel, claw, poison, or flame."
Kashyapa's eyes flickered, but his tone remained steady. The memory weighed on him like stone.
"And Hiranyakashipu, his boon was more cunning. Death could not reach him by day or night, inside or outside, on earth or in the sky. No weapon forged could pierce him, and no being, whether Deva, Asura, man, or beast, was permitted to end him."
The wind rustled faintly, as if even the air remembered the terror those brothers once brought.
"And then… Hayagriva."
Kashyapa paused, his gaze distant now.
"He was different. Born of Danu's line, brilliant and twisted by pride. His boon made him invincible to all but himself. Only one who was his exact reflection, equal in form, nature, and essence, could bring about his end."
Vajranga did not speak.
"Even his allies, Madhu and Kaitabha, were not without divine favor. Their curse made them immortal, unless they chose to die by their own will. A gift and a trap, both woven by Vishnu himself."
Kaśyapa's gaze turned toward the looming statues carved in their likeness, silent witnesses to a bygone age.
"Each of them possessed blessings beyond mortal comprehension. Their strength, will, and ambition were all unmatched. They were the strongest of Pātāla, rulers of all its inhabitants. When they stood tall, no one could match them in all the Tri Loka."
A pause.
Then, with thunder in his tone: "But they're all dead."
Boom!
Dark clouds churned above, and thunder cracked across the heavens. Lightning slashed the sky like a serpent, casting flickering light on Vajranga's face.
"…Indra," Vajranga whispered.
He looked up slowly, eyes locking onto the three massive stone figures.
Each statue exuded overwhelming pride and regal disdain, its face frozen in mid-laugh, as if mocking the world. The central one, Hayagriva, grinned widely, horse-faced and defiant, as if nothing could touch him.
And yet…
They were all dead.
Boom!
A shiver crept down Vajranga's spine. The hairs along his back stood on end. Coldness licked at his resolve.
For just a moment… he hesitated.
Kashyapa saw it. He stepped forward slightly, voice now soft with something far more dangerous than thunder: hope.
"I still see goodness in you," he said. "Don't let ambition consume your soul."
"Child," he said again, gently, "I know you. You're not a brute. You never were. You're clever, composed. A leader others can trust."
"You're a good son. A faithful husband. A wise father. And a cherished uncle. I believe you're just… lost in the moment."
Kashyapa blinked, then added, as if remembering:
"You have a son, don't you? What's his name again?"
"…Taraka," Vajranga murmured, brows furrowed.
Kashyapa smiled faintly. "Taraka. A beautiful name. I believe he will grow strong like you, radiant like your wife Varani, and devout and wise like Prahlada."
He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
"And if your son, in his path, chooses to revere the Devas… what then? What will he do when he must face his Lord?"
"Will you drag him into the shadow of Hiranyakashipu's hatred? Into the ruin of Prahlada's sorrow?"
Boom!
Another crack of thunder split the skies, but it was nothing compared to Kashyapa's words, which echoed louder in Vajranga's ears than any storm.
Vajranga stood still on the steps.
He didn't speak. His expression had changed. His jaw was tight. His fists, once so eager for conquest, now hung uncertainly at his sides.
He was silent, eyes clouded with doubt, heart trembling in hesitation. He didn't know what to believe anymore.
The moment they witnessed the scene above, the Asuras below fell into instant turmoil.
Shumbha, Viprachitti, and the other Asura generals stood frozen, their expressions tense, brows furrowed in doubt. None stepped forward. Though their bodies remained still, the fury and confusion boiling beneath the surface were palpable.
But the rest of the army was not so composed.
"Tch. That old man again?!"
"Rishi Kashyapa should've stayed down in Bhūloka. What's he doing up here meddling in our war?!"
"Father or not, he chose the Devas long ago. He's no kin of ours!"
"Ignore him, my king! Let him babble!"
"We've already seized the gates of Svarga!"
"The throne is ours! What can his old bones do against that?!"
Weapons were hoisted high, voices raised in defiance. Crimson eyes burned with bloodlust as they fixed their gaze on Rishi Kashyapa. It was as though the entire army would tear him apart with their bare hands if given the chance.
"Shut up!"
CRACK.
The echoing snap of a staff striking the temple steps silenced the howls in an instant.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
The rebounding echoes rumbled across Svarga like a divine warning.
Rishi Kashyapa slowly turned, eyes stern. He raised his wooden staff once more and struck the stone beneath him.
A low, resonant boom spread outward, not deafening in volume, but deep, reverberating, unignorable. It wrapped around the realm like a command etched into the very fabric of heaven.
"I'm standing here," he said, voice calm but laced with thunder. "If any single one of you wishes to kill me… then come."
Come. Come. Come.
His words echoed like a challenge cast into the heart of creation. And the Triloka heard it.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
In that moment, it wasn't just the inhabitants of Svarga that turned their eyes to the Asuras.
From the Satyaloka, from Vaikuntha, from the heights of Kailasa—attention shifted.
Brahma lowered his eyes. Vishnu's gaze grew sharp. Shiva opened his eyes, one by one.
Rishi Kaśyapa was no ordinary Rishi.
He was Prajāpati, one of the Saptarishis, the Lord of Progeny, a pillar of creation.
From his union with Aditi and Diti, with Danu, Kadru, Vinata, and others, sprang forth the Devas, the Asuras, the Nāgas, the Garudas, and myriad races of the Tri Loka. His lineage coursed through the very veins of creation.
If his blood were to stain the floors of Svarga, the karmic backlash would echo through all of Saṃsāra. The consequences would spiral through time and destiny, twisting fate itself.
And so, in front of the court of the King of Svarga...
Silence.
The shouts of the Asuras vanished, swallowed by an invisible weight. Not a word, not a breath broke the stillness.
Rishi Kashyapa exhaled slowly and turned back once more, this time to Vajranga.
"Child," he said gently, "I ask only this be an Asura King who brings prosperity to the Triloka."
Vajranga inhaled deeply, then brought his hands together in reverence, raising them slowly to his forehead. His eyes were steely, respectful, yet burning with conviction.
"Father…"
"What you said makes sense. But I cannot yield. I am also the king of asuras, as I have a duty for the triloka, and as your son. I also bear the responsibility of the ruler of Pātāla. An Asura king does not bow to fear or doubt. He stands his ground and faces his enemies head-on!"
His voice sharpened like drawn steel.
"Tell me, where is Indra? I will challenge him myself!"
As Vajranga clenched his fists, his voice dropped into a quiet firmness that echoed louder than any shout.
Rishi Kashyapa's lips parted slightly, his expression caught between pride and uncertainty. For all his wisdom, he did not know where Indra had gone… nor could he say which of his sons would triumph in such a battle.
But another voice cut in before he could answer.
"I'll take you to Indra."
A faint, composed smile spread across the face of Rishi Brihaspati as he emerged from the shadows of the temple.
"I've just received word from Lord Vishnu. I know where Indra is. I will lead you there myself."
Brihaspati's voice carried a quiet assurance, the kind born from deep strategy. Let the boy go. He was confident Indra would handle this one way or another.
"Then let's go!"
Without hesitation, Vajranga turned, eyes sharp with resolve. In one fluid motion, he vaulted onto the back of the divine steed, Uchchaihshravas's head snorting with celestial vigor.
In a flash, they took to the skies.
Rishi Brihaspati led the way, his form gliding with the grace of a seasoned sage. Kashyapa followed behind, robes fluttering in the divine wind. Vajranga, mounted and commanding, rode behind them, dragging five radiant Devas through the sky like a comet tail.
They soared across the antrakisha, streaking away like falling stars in reverse.
The remaining Asuras watched their king vanish into the distance. The silence that fell was not peaceful. But it was uncertain.
Shumbha furrowed his brow. "What now?" he muttered. "The king's gone. Do we hold position… or retreat?"
"No idea," Viprachitti said, voice low, his eyes still locked on the horizon.
Shumbha exhaled through his nose, hard and slow.
A thought crept into his mind.
This victory… might not last long.