The grand arena of Hastinapur buzzed with anticipation, its stands filled with nobles, warriors, and common folk, their cheers echoing under the midday sun. Bahubali and Karna sat on the elevated podium alongside Maharaj Dhritarashtra, Mata Gandhari, Mata Kunti, Mahamahim Bhishma, Kula Guru Kripacharya, Gandhar Naresh Shakuni and Mahamantri Vidura, their eyes fixed on the field below. The Kalapradarshan, a showcase of the Kuru princes' martial prowess, was about to begin, and the air crackled with excitement and the weight of Hastinapur's pride.
Guru Dronacharya, clad in austere robes, strode to the center of the arena, his presence commanding silence. Raising his hands, he addressed the crowd, his voice resonant with authority. "People of Hastinapur and all who grace this sacred gathering. I, Dronacharya, have had the honor of training the Kuru princes, molding them into warriors and scholars worthy of this great dynasty. Today, they will display their skills in a competition of strength, strategy, and valor. Witness the fruits of their discipline and my guidance, forged through years of relentless training."
The crowd roared in approval, and Dronacharya continued, outlining the rules with precision. "The princes will face one another in duels, their names drawn by Ashwatthama's arrows striking a board inscribed with their names. Each combat will test their mastery of weapons, adherence to dharma, and control under pressure. No lethal blows are permitted, and any violation of the rules will result in disqualification. Let the Kalapradarshan begin!"
Ashwatthama, Dronacharya's son, stepped forward, his bow drawn with practiced ease. He loosed an arrow that struck the wooden board with a resounding thud, landing on the name "Duryodhana." The crowd erupted as Duryodhana, eldest of the Kauravas, strode into the arena, his mace gleaming, his armored form radiating confidence. The cheers grew louder, a wave of adulation for the prince known for his strength.
Ashwatthama loosed another arrow, and it landed on "Sahadeva." The youngest Pandava entered, his sword drawn, his movements fluid and precise. The duel began, Duryodhana's mace swinging with devastating force, each strike shaking the ground, while Sahadeva countered with agile swordplay, parrying and weaving to avoid the heavier weapon. The clash was fierce, blades and mace sparking, but Duryodhana's raw power overwhelmed Sahadeva, disarming him with a sweeping blow. The crowd cheered as Dronacharya declared Duryodhana the victor.
Next, Ashwatthama's arrow struck "Nakula." The fourth Pandava entered, his twin swords gleaming, his handsome face set with determination. Known for his grace and speed, Nakula circled Duryodhana, his swords weaving intricate patterns, striking like twin vipers. Duryodhana, undaunted, gripped his mace with both hands, his stance solid as a mountain. Nakula lunged, his blades targeting Duryodhana's shoulders, but the Kaurava prince deflected the strikes with his mace, the impact ringing like a bell. The duel was a dance of contrasts—Nakula's elegance against Duryodhana's brute strength. Nakula scored a glancing blow, his sword grazing Duryodhana's arm, but the Kaurava retaliated with a thunderous swing, forcing Nakula to leap back. Seizing the moment, Duryodhana charged, his mace arcing down. Nakula crossed his swords to block, but the force drove him to one knee. With a final, calculated strike, Duryodhana disarmed Nakula, sending one sword flying and pinning the other to the ground. "Yield!" Duryodhana growled, and Nakula, breathing heavily, nodded. Dronacharya declared, "Duryodhana wins!" The crowd's cheers swelled, Duryodhana raising his mace in triumph.
Ashwatthama's next arrow landed on "Yudhishthira." The eldest Pandava entered, his spear in hand, his calm demeanor belying his martial skill. Known for his wisdom, Yudhishthira fought with measured precision, his spear thrusting and parrying with strategic intent. Duryodhana, invigorated by his victories, met him head-on, his mace a whirlwind of destruction. Yudhishthira's spear darted like a serpent, aiming for Duryodhana's chest, but the Kaurava deflected each thrust with his mace, his armor clanging. The duel was intense, Yudhishthira's discipline clashing with Duryodhana's ferocity. Yudhishthira scored a hit, his spear grazing Duryodhana's thigh, but Duryodhana roared, channeling his strength into a crushing blow that snapped Yudhishthira's spear in two. Unarmed, Yudhishthira raised his hands in surrender, his expression serene despite defeat. Dronacharya announced, "Duryodhana is victorious!" The crowd's applause was thunderous, though some Pandava supporters murmured in disappointment.
Then came Bhima, the second Pandava, his massive frame wielding a mace to rival Duryodhana's. The duel was a spectacle of brute strength, their maces clashing like thunder, the ground trembling beneath their blows. For a time, they seemed evenly matched, their grunts and shouts filling the arena. But Duryodhana, with a sly grin, taunted Bhima, "Is this the might of a Pandava, Bhima? Or do you tire already, weighed down by your gluttony?"
Bhima's eyes blazed with fury, his temper flaring. In a reckless surge, he swung his mace with lethal intent, breaking the rules of the duel. Dronacharya raised his hand, his voice stern. "Bhima, you have violated the rules! You are disqualified!" The crowd murmured, some cheering Duryodhana's cunning, others disappointed by Bhima's lapse.
Finally, Arjuna, the third Pandava, entered, his bow gleaming in the sunlight. The arena fell silent, anticipation thick as Arjuna faced Duryodhana. Before the Kaurava could close the distance with his mace, Arjuna loosed a flurry of arrows, each one a masterpiece of precision. Duryodhana charged, but Arjuna invoked the Himaghna Astra, a glacial binding that encased Duryodhana in shimmering ice, immobilizing him without harm. The crowd gasped, then erupted in applause, awed by Arjuna's unmatched archery.
Dronacharya, his face alight with pride, addressed the crowd, his voice booming. "People of Hastinapur, you have witnessed the prowess of the Kuru princes! Among them, one stands unparalleled—my favorite student, Arjuna, whose mastery of the bow is unrivaled. I proclaim him the greatest archer in Aryavrat, a warrior without equal. If any dare to challenge my claim, let them step forward now!" He turned to Arjuna, gesturing. "Release Duryodhana, my student, and let the Kalapradarshan conclude."
On the podium, Bahubali's jaw tightened, his heart stirred by Dronacharya's bold proclamation. The claim that Arjuna was the greatest archer, and by extension that Dronacharya was the supreme teacher, grated against the humility Mahadev and Mata Parvati had instilled in him. His hand twitched, tempted to rise and challenge Dronacharya's hubris, but he steadied himself, recalling Mata Parvati's teachings on restraint. "Dharma is served through action, not pride," he murmured, calming his heart.
Karna, however, could not contain his indignation. His eyes blazed as he watched Arjuna prepare to loose Duryodhana's bindings. Without a word, Karna seized an arrow from his quiver, drew his Vijaya bow, and loosed a single, radiant shaft. The arrow sliced through the air, shattering Arjuna's glacial bindings in an instant, freeing Duryodhana before Arjuna could act. The crowd gasped, a ripple of shock spreading through the arena.
Dronacharya's head snapped toward the podium, his voice thundering with outrage. "Who dares interfere? Who shot that arrow? Step forward and face me!"
Karna rose, his cloak billowing as he leapt from the podium, landing gracefully in the arena. His Vijaya bow gleamed in his hand. "It was me," he declared, his voice steady yet defiant. "I could not stand by while you proclaim one archer above all others, Guru Dronacharya. Your student is skilled, but to call him the greatest in Aryavrat is a claim I challenge."
The royals on the podium froze, stunned by Karna's boldness. Maharaj Dhritarashtra's brow furrowed, Mata Gandhari's hands tightened on her staff, and Mata Kunti's hands clasped each other. Mahamahim Bhishma leaned forward, his gaze sharp, while Kripacharya and Vidura exchanged wary glances. In the shadows, Shakuni, Duryodhana's uncle, smirked, his mind already spinning webs of intrigue at this unexpected turn. Duryodhana, still shaking off the remnants of ice, stared at Karna with curiosity, his interest piqued by the stranger who had freed him.
Bahubali, though inwardly proud of Karna's courage, felt a pang of concern. He knew Karna's heart, still raw from years of being judged for his suta birth, drove this challenge, but he also feared the consequences in Hastinapur's complex court. Rising silently, Bahubali prepared to join his friend, ready to support him while ensuring their mission of dharma remained untainted by pride or conflict.