The sun blazed over the plains outside Hastinapur as Bahubali guided the chariot, its wheels kicking up dust along the rugged path. Karna sat at the back, securing their supplies—provisions, weapons, and essentials for their journey to reshape Aryavrat. Both had taken heartfelt blessings from their parents before departing. Sumitra and Abhiram had embraced Bahubali with tears, urging him to uphold dharma, while Radha and Adhiratha had blessed Karna with pride and prayers. Now, the two friends embarked on their mission to challenge the injustices of society, their hearts united in purpose.
As the chariot rumbled onward, Karna leaned forward, his voice curious over the creak of the wheels. "Bahu, where are we headed now? What's our first destination on this grand quest of ours to change Aryavrat?"
Bahubali's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his hands steady on the reins. "We're going to Magadha, Karna. That's where our journey begins in earnest."
Karna's brow furrowed, surprise in his tone. "Magadha? Why there, of all places? Isn't it ruled by Jarasandha, the tyrant said to be immortal? What draws us to his kingdom?"
Bahubali's voice was resolute, tinged with the weight of his vow. "To kill Jarasandha, Karna. Every living being born on this earth has a destiny to die, no matter how invincible they seem. Jarasandha's time has come."
Karna's eyes widened, his mind racing. "Kill Jarasandha? Bahu, why him specifically? What has he done to earn your wrath, and why now?"
Bahubali turned slightly, his expression grim yet determined. "Jarasandha is an adharmi, Karna, a king who defies dharma with his actions. He plans a vile pooja, intending to sacrifice one hundred kings to gain power. He's already captured seventy-six, with only twenty-four left to complete his ritual. I made a vow to my teachers to never overlook adharma in my life. Jarasandha's tyranny must end, and after defeating him, I will claim the throne of Magadha to begin our work."
Karna's shock deepened, his voice rising with disbelief. "You, a king? Bahu, you've spoken passionately about dismantling the varna vyavastha, about creating a world where merit triumphs over birth. Why seek a throne, the very symbol of power you wish to challenge? How does becoming a king align with our mission?"
Bahubali's eyes softened, but his resolve remained unshaken. "Karna, change must start somewhere, and to reshape society, one must wield influence. A king's authority can open doors closed to others, allowing us to enact reforms, to give the lower castes opportunities denied to them. To challenge the varna system, we need power, not for its own sake, but to uplift those crushed by it. My first step is to challenge Jarasandha to a fight, defeat him, and take his throne as a platform for our vision. Trust me, my friend, this is the path to our goal."
Karna studied Bahubali's face, then nodded slowly, his trust in his friend unwavering. "I understand, Bahu. If this is the way, I'm with you. Let's face Jarasandha together and see this through."
The journey to Magadha continued, with Bahubali and Karna taking turns driving the chariot, their bond strengthened by shared purpose and the trials of the road. They crossed rivers, navigated forests, and camped under starlit skies, discussing their dreams for Aryavrat. After a month, they reached the borders of Magadha, the city's towering walls looming in the distance.
On the outskirts, Bahubali paused the chariot and penned a letter, his quill moving with deliberate strokes. Handing it to Karna, he said, "Tie this to your arrow and aim it at Jarasandha's court. Let it deliver our challenge directly to his throne."
Karna nodded, securing the letter to a shaft and drawing his Vijaya bow. With a steady hand, he loosed the arrow, its arc swift and true, piercing the air toward the royal court. The letter landed amidst Jarasandha's courtiers, its words a bold mockery of the king's tyranny and a challenge to face Bahubali in combat. Jarasandha, reading the provocation, roared in fury, his pride stung. He summoned his army—two akshauhini senas, which he could assemble immediately, a formidable force of chariots, elephants, cavalry, and foot soldiers—and marched to the city's edge to confront the challengers.
Outside Magadha, Jarasandha's eyes blazed as he surveyed the lone chariot before him. Bahubali stood at the reins, his presence calm yet commanding, while Karna gripped his Vijaya bow, his stance radiating defiance. Jarasandha's voice thundered across the plain. "Who dares to challenge me, the unconquerable king of Magadha? Speak, fools, before I crush you!"
Bahubali's voice rang clear, unyielding. "We dare, Jarasandha! I am Sumitra Nandhan Bahubali, and this is my friend Radheya Karna. We stand here to end your reign of adharma. Or are you already trembling before the battle begins, hiding behind words?"
Jarasandha's face contorted with rage. "Insolent wretches! From which kingdom do you hail, daring to mock me?"
Bahubali smirked, his tone cutting. "I thought we were here to fight, not exchange pleasantries. Are you so afraid, Jarasandha, that you delay with questions? Face us, or admit your cowardice!"
Enraged beyond reason, Jarasandha bellowed, "Attack! Crush these vermin!" His army surged forward, a tidal wave of steel and fury—elephants trumpeting, horses snorting, and soldiers roaring as they charged. Bahubali glanced at Karna, his voice calm but firm. "Spare the foot soldiers, Karna. Make them unconscious, not dead. They're just following orders."
Karna nodded, his expression focused as he drew his Vijaya bow, its string humming with power. "As you say, Bahu." He invoked the Prasvapana Astra, loosing a shimmering wave of arrows that glowed with a soft, ethereal light. The shafts rained down on the advancing infantry, lulling entire battalions into a deep slumber, their bodies collapsing harmlessly onto the field. Dust rose in clouds as thousands fell unconscious, their weapons clattering to the ground.
But Jarasandha's elite rathis—seasoned chariot warriors mounted on heavily armored vehicles—countered the astra with their own mantras, their arrows glowing with protective enchantments that dispelled the sleep-inducing magic. These rathis, clad in ornate armor and wielding bows crafted by master artisans, charged toward Bahubali's chariot, their war cries echoing. Bahubali spurred the horses, the chariot lurching forward at breakneck speed, weaving through the battlefield with the agility of a hawk. "Hold fast, Karna!" he called, guiding the chariot in daring arcs to evade enemy arrows.
Karna stood tall in the chariot's rear, his Vijaya bow a blur of motion as he unleashed a storm of arrows. His first volley targeted the lead rathi's chariot, a massive vehicle drawn by four warhorses. Karna's arrow, imbued with the Agneyastra, struck the chariot's axle, igniting it in a burst of flame that forced the warrior to leap clear as his vehicle collapsed. Another rathi loosed a barrage of arrows tipped with poison, but Karna countered with the Vayvayastra, summoning a gust that deflected the projectiles back toward their sender, riddling the rathi's own chariot.
The battle raged for five hours, Karna's archery a spectacle of divine skill honed under Lord Parashurama. He targeted the rathis with surgical precision, his arrows severing bowstrings, shattering quivers, and unhorsing warriors without taking lives. One rathi invoked the Nagastra, sending serpentine arrows hissing toward the chariot. Karna, unflinching, loosed a counter-arrow imbued with Garudastra, summoning the illusion of a great eagle that devoured the serpents mid-air. Another rathi unleashed a volley of fiery arrows, but Karna's Varunastra doused them with a deluge, turning the battlefield into a muddy quagmire that bogged down enemy chariots.
As the sun climbed higher, Karna faced a trio of rathis who coordinated their attack, circling the chariot like wolves. The first loosed a blinding Suryastra, its radiant beams threatening to disorient. Karna, shielded by his kavach, countered with the Chandrastra, its cool lunar light neutralizing the glare. The second rathi summoned a hail of iron-tipped arrows, but Karna's arrows intercepted each one mid-flight, creating a cascade of sparks. The third rathi, wielding a massive bow, loosed a single arrow imbued with the Brahmastra's lesser form. Karna, recognizing the danger, invoked a defensive mantra taught by Parashurama, his arrow splitting the enemy's shaft and dissipating its energy in a harmless burst of light.
The battlefield became a canvas of Karna's mastery, his arrows weaving a tapestry of destruction and restraint. He disabled chariot wheels, toppled war banners, and knocked rathis unconscious with blunt-tipped shafts, all while protecting Bahubali's chariot from harm. The Magadhan army, despite its vast numbers, faltered under Karna's relentless assault, their formations crumbling as rathis fell one by one. Elephants stampeded in panic, their mahouts struck by Karna's sleep-inducing arrows, while cavalry units retreated, unable to breach his barrage.
For five hours, the battle raged, Karna single-handedly decimating Jarasandha's forces, his Vijaya bow singing a song of destruction. Jarasandha, seeing his army falter against one archer, roared in frustration. "Enough! Cease fighting, all of you! I will face this insolent fool myself!"
Bahubali halted the chariot, his eyes locked on Jarasandha. He leapt down, grabbing a mace from the chariot's rear. Jarasandha, wielding his own mace, strode forward, his massive form radiating menace. "Come, Bahubali! Meet your doom!"
The mace duel began, a clash of titans that shook the earth. Their weapons collided with thunderous force, sparks flying as they traded blows. For three days and nights, they fought without pause, their stamina fueled by divine training and mortal will. On the fourth morning, Bahubali's strength surged, his movements honed by Mahadev's teachings. With a mighty swing, he disarmed Jarasandha, sending his mace spiraling away. Bahubali tossed his own mace to Karna, who caught it deftly, and turned to face Jarasandha bare-handed.
The hand-to-hand combat lasted another day, a brutal dance of grapples and strikes. Jarasandha, weakened but ferocious, fought with desperation, but Bahubali's training with Nandi gave him the edge. At dusk on the fifth day, Bahubali seized Jarasandha, his grip unyielding. With a roar, he tore the king apart, pulling his legs in opposite directions. He hurled the left half to the right and the right half to the left, ensuring Jarasandha's cursed rebirth could not mend. The tyrant king of Magadha was dead; his reign of adharma ended.
The battlefield fell silent, the surviving soldiers staring in awe and fear at Bahubali, the lone warrior who had felled an immortal. Karna approached, his eyes wide with admiration. "You did it, Bahu. Jarasandha is no more."
Bahubali nodded, his breath heavy but his resolve unbroken. "This is just the beginning, Karna. Now, we claim Magadha and start the change we vowed to bring."
With Jarasandha's defeat, Bahubali and Karna stood poised to reshape Magadha, their first step toward a new Aryavrat where dharma and merit would reign supreme.