The great obsidian doors of Mahishmati shook as Bhallaladeva descended the throne steps, his eyes lit with fury.
Blood stained his royal robes, not his own, but that of a messenger—one too slow to deliver news.
"The beast bled," the general had said.
"The beast ran."
Now, the king marched.
Behind him, drums of war thundered through the capital. Bells rang, not for worship, but warning. The people knew. The walls could no longer hide the truth. The war had come home.
Bhallaladeva stopped at the edge of the war court. His armor was already being fastened by servants—black steel, engraved with the skull of a lion, forged to make gods tremble.
He turned to his remaining advisors.
"No more tricks. No more monsters."
He grabbed the hilt of his ancestral blade and raised it high.
"This time, I lead."
The Rebel Camp ... A Moment of Firelight
Bahubali sat alone beneath a tree, his sword resting against the roots, flickering firelight dancing across his face. His body was battered, muscles sore, wounds wrapped hastily with cloth and salves.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Beside him, Kattappa approached, carrying two cups of boiled herbs. He handed one over."You look like your father did the night before his final battle."Bahubali smiled faintly. "Did he win?"
Kattappa sat beside him, eyes distant. "No. But he made sure no one forgot his name."
A pause.
Kattappa stared into the fire. "I still remember the day I was ordered to betray you. The blood on my hands has never washed off."
Bahubali turned, meeting his eyes. "You saved me. You kept me alive. That blood became the roots of everything we fight for now."The old warrior looked down. "I never thought I'd live long enough to see this day. To fight beside you again."
"You're not done yet," Bahubali said, voice steady. "Neither of us are."
At the Palace Gates ....The King Arrives
The ground trembled.
Not from the beasts, not from machines, but from the march of Bhallaladeva himself.
His army stretched across the hill, a black tide of soldiers, war elephants, siege towers, and battle drums. Thousands upon thousands. At the center rode the king, his helmet shaped like a dragon's skull, his eyes burning with vengeance.
Behind him, the Beastmaker stood in silence, lips pale and sealed shut.
He knew what had been unleashed. He knew there was no calling it back.
The first beast had failed.
The second had survived.
But there was one more card to play.
A secret even the king didn't know.
In the Jungle – The Approach
Devasena, dressed in fresh armor and bearing her bow once again, moved between warriors like a queen preparing a nation.
Children were hidden.
Fires were doused.
Arrows were counted.
Scouts returned with wide eyes.
"The king himself leads them. They're two days out."
Bahubali nodded.
"Then we meet them halfway."
Tanthav the scribe unrolled a new map.
"There's a narrow valley just before the city's outer gates. If we hold it, we cut them off. One path in. One path out."
Aravan, still limping but defiant, tightened the strap on his blade. "And if we lose it?"
Kattappa answered for him.
"Then we die. But not before making sure they remember our names."
---
Final Scene – The King's Oath
That night, on the opposite side of the jungle, Bhallaladeva sat beneath a blood-red sky.
He looked out across his army, the fires of Mahishmati glowing behind them like an omen.
He drew his sword.
And carved a line across his palm.
"This is my oath," he said to the silent night. "To crush the bloodline of Amarendra. To erase Bahubali from every scroll, song, and whisper."
As his blood dripped onto the earth, a howl rose from the deep shadows behind him.
The second beast.
Still alive.
Still hungry.
And now—it served no one.