Upendra lay motionless at Arya's feet. His blood soaked the pit's dirt, seeping into the cracks like the final remnants of his reign.
Raghav and Rudra stood tense, scanning the stunned crowd. What now? The audience was silent, breathless, uncertain. Then, Arya looked up.
The shadow on the balcony met his eyes.
A heartbeat later, it moved.
It was fast—too fast. One moment, it stood above, watching. The next, it was in the pit.
Before anyone could react, it attacked.
A blur of motion. A force unlike anything Arya had ever faced.
Upendra's men had been ready to charge, but as soon as the shadow descended, they hesitated. Terror flickered in their eyes.
The ground trembled beneath its steps.
Arya's instincts screamed. He dodged, barely avoiding a strike aimed at his throat. A gust of wind brushed past his ear—too close.
A kick sent him sprawling, his back slamming into the pit floor. He gasped, struggling to rise. The shadow was relentless.
Strike. Dodge. Block. Too much. Too fast.
Arya's body was failing him. His ribs burned, his vision blurred. Then—
The final blow came.
He raised his arm, knowing it wouldn't be enough.
And the attack stopped.
For the first time, the figure stood still. The dust settled.
The crowd fell silent.
Now, they saw it. The beast of a man standing before Arya was not just a man.
Massive, clad in dark leather and armor. A presence that demanded awe.
Raghav and Rudra stood frozen, their faces a mix of fear and disbelief.
The shadow—no, the warrior—lifted Arya's arm and turned to the crowd.
The silence broke. The arena roared. A new champion had been crowned.
Arya struggled to focus through swollen eyes. His breathing was ragged, his body barely able to stand.
Yet he stared at the figure before him. It was familiar.
And then he realized. It couldn't be.
Whispers spread through the crowd. The twins exchanged uncertain glances. No, it wasn't possible.
But the truth stood before them.
The warrior turned to the men on the balcony and gestured.
Upendra's throne—his symbol of power—was lowered into the pit.
Arya watched, barely comprehending as the throne was placed before him. The warrior's voice was deep, commanding.
"Sit."
Arya hesitated. He looked to the twins. He looked to the crowd.
Then, slowly, he sat.
The pit fighters, Upendra's former men, raised their weapons. A salute. A pledge.
The warrior stepped forward, offering Arya the fallen warlord's sword.
His voice was low, a quiet warning. "Remember this: You sit here because you won. And because I let you."
The words sent a chill down Arya's spine.
The warrior turned, stepping back into the shadows. And just as suddenly as he had arrived—he was gone.
Raghav and Rudra stood close, their breathing uneven, their hands gripping their weapons.
Then, in the chaos of the celebrating crowd, Rudra whispered to Raghav.
"…That's… the legendary Ashvapati?"