The Escape – Face to Face with Fire
The fire blazed behind them, a pillar of fury rising into the night sky.
They had almost made it to the tree line when three elite Mahishmati guards emerged from the smoke like shadows of death—blades drawn, eyes locked on Bahubali.
Aravan reached for his sword, but Bahubali raised a hand.
"Stand down."
He stepped forward alone. Calm. Commanding.
"You don't get to follow us out of this fire," Bahubali said, his voice like steel dragging through gravel.
The lead guard scoffed. "One man can't fight three."
Bahubali smiled.
"I'm not one man. I'm the storm you prayed would never return."
Then he moved.
Fast. Furious.
The First Strike
The first attacker swung high, but Bahubali had already closed the distance. He ducked, swept the man's legs with a single spin, and slammed the pommel of his sword into the guard's throat.
The man dropped before his weapon even hit the ground.
The Second Strike
The next charged, blade aiming straight for Bahubali's chest. But Bahubali pivoted smoothly, grabbed the man's wrist mid-air, snapped it sideways, and twisted the sword out of his hand.
He caught the blade in mid-spin—and used it to slash the attacker across the chest before hurling him into the flames.
The Final Foe
The last soldier hesitated. That was his mistake.
Bahubali stepped in, grabbed him by the armor's collar, and headbutted him—once, hard. The man collapsed like a falling tree.
All three were down.
Bahubali hadn't been touched.
He stood over them, breathing steady, eyes scanning the fire-lit field.
Aravan approached slowly, awe in his gaze. "Remind me never to challenge you."
Bahubali didn't look back.
"Then keep standing with me."
The Forest Line ...Safe Again
The rebels regrouped under the trees. Malya trembled slightly. Even Tanthav, blood still drying on his sleeve, stared at Bahubali like he had just witnessed a legend come to life.
No one spoke.
They didn't need to.
Bahubali hadn't just survived the raid—he had owned it.
Devasena watched him from the edge of the campfire, her eyes filled with something deeper than pride. Love. Awe. Destiny.
"You didn't get hurt," she said softly.
He unsheathed his sword and let the flames reflect off the unbloodied steel.
"They never stood a chance."
Final Scene .... Mahishmati's Throne Room
Bhallaladeva paced in front of his generals, livid.
"Three towers destroyed. My elite dead. And him…"
He clenched his jaw.
"Untouched."
He turned slowly, voice cold and sharp.
"Release the Widow's Legion."
The room went dead silent.
"But, my king—" a general whispered.
Bhallaladeva slammed his fist into the throne's side, cracking it.
"I want something to make him bleed."
Outside, black banners were raised. The Widow's Legion was awake again.
And this time… they weren't just coming for Bahubali.
They were coming for all hope.