The night battle against Krodhakala's demonic legions was a brutal, unrelenting grind. Under the harsh, unsetting glow of the artificial sun, the Maharathis—Bhishma, Drona, Kripa, Karna, Arjuna, and the Pandava brothers—fought with superhuman endurance, their celestial weapons a continuous, necessary counter to the overwhelming numbers and dark sorcery of the Rakshasas.
The soldiers, rallied by Bahubali's courage, found reserves of strength, but their numbers bled freely. They fought valiantly, but the ferocity of the Asuras was relentless. It was only the systematic dismantling of the command structure by Bahubali, Karna, and Arjuna, who acted as three unstoppable axes of war, that kept the demonic host from fully engulfing the Dharma Alliance.
Dawn broke, replacing the artificial light with the pale, weary glow of the true sun. As the morning mist cleared, a horrifying truth was revealed: all of Krodhakala's minions were destroyed or routed. The battlefield was littered with the enormous, decaying bodies of Rakshasas and Asuras, a testament to the night's sacrifice.
Only one figure remained, a monolithic symbol of the darkness that refused to yield: Krodhakala himself, locked in a continuous, furious duel with Mahamahim Bhishma.
Exhaustion was etched onto the faces of the human warriors. Bahubali, seeing the carnage and the heavy breathing of his brave soldiers, gave the command:
"Mahasena! The immediate danger has passed! Retreat from the field! Rest and tend to the wounded! Only the Maharathis remain! You have fought with the courage of gods. Go!"
As the weary soldiers began to withdraw, leaving the vast field to the few supreme warriors, Lord Krishna drove Bahubali's chariot toward the point of ultimate conflict, placing it gently beside the ongoing duel.
Bhishma, his shield battered and his limbs moving with the heavy effort of his advanced years, was giving Krodhakala a magnificent, impossible fight.
Krodhakala, immense and powerful, was constantly pressing the Grand Sire, seeking to break his defense.
Bahubali watched for a moment, then spoke, his voice low and respectful. "Pitamaha," he called out, drawing Bhishma's attention without distracting him from his foe. "Krodhakala is here for me. I killed his brother, Kindhasur. This is a personal matter of vengeance and dharma. It is my duty to face him, to give him the chance he seeks, and to end this threat to Aryavarta. Please, allow me to take over."
Bhishma, deflecting a blow from Krodhakala's mace that sent tremors through the earth, glanced at Bahubali. He saw the grim resolve in the Magadha king's eyes—a true acceptance of responsibility. With a weary but dignified nod, the Grand Sire gracefully disengaged, retreating to the side to recover and offer counsel.
Krodhakala, seeing the change of opponents, let out a terrifying, guttural shriek of triumph and hate. His face, already monstrous, twisted with savage joy.
"BAHUBALI! The murderer of my brother! You dared to show your face to me, I will tear the life from you with my own hands!"
"Your vengeance dies here, Krodhakala," Bahubali retorted, drawing Ajaya Bow. "Your brother was an enemy of dharma. You shall meet the same end, not in hatred, but in justice!"
The final, decisive duel began. Krodhakala, abandoning all pretense of traditional warfare, rushed Bahubali's chariot with astonishing speed, swinging his massive, spiked mace. Bahubali countered the physical assault with a barrage of focused energy arrows.
The battle raged across the desolate field. Krodhakala was a creature of immense stamina and fury, his blows shattering the ground and cracking the air.
Bahubali, however, had the advantage of divine counsel and supreme skill. Guided by Krishna, who constantly shifted the chariot to deny Krodhakala's chase, Bahubali fought with calculated aggression, his mind clear, his strikes relentless.
Slowly, methodically, Bahubali began to dominate. He disarmed the Rakshasa of his mace with a precision-shot from the Vayuvastra, which wrapped the weapon in a miniature cyclone and tore it from Krodhakala's grasp. He then crippled the demon's defenses with successive shots from the Agneyastra, burning away his protective aura.
The battle continued into the twilight of the second day. Finally, with a powerful volley, Bahubali shattered Krodhakala's armor completely, leaving the demon weakened and exposed.
Seeing his opening, Bahubali invoked the mightiest weapons he knew.
First, he chanted the mantra for the Brahmastra. The arrow erupted with blinding light, striking Krodhakala directly in the chest.
The Rakshasa shrieked as he was consumed by the weapon's terrifying power. He fell, a massive, charred heap on the ground.
Then, to Bahubali's horror, the gigantic form of Krodhakala twitched, rose to its feet, and began lumbering toward him again, his massive chest regenerating rapidly.
Bahubali's eyes widened. Impossible!
He immediately nocked another arrow, chanting the mantra for the Narayana Astra. This weapon of Lord Vishnu's aspect was designed to disarm and subdue. It struck Krodhakala with a massive blast of irresistible energy.
The demon was thrown back hundreds of feet, slammed into the ground with catastrophic force. But before the dust settled, Krodhakala once again rose, wobbling slightly, but terrifyingly intact.
Desperate, Bahubali invoked the ultimate weapon known to him—the Pashupatastra. He released the missile, a weapon of overwhelming power that struck Krodhakala in a thunderous explosion.
Yet, after the smoke cleared, Krodhakala stood once more, his hideous form regenerating at a shocking rate. He laughed—a deep, booming, victorious sound that echoed across the abandoned battlefield. "Foolish human! Your weapons are powerless against my destiny!"
Bahubali dropped his bow momentarily, the exhaustion and confusion hitting him hard. He turned to his charioteer, his voice laced with confusion and urgency.
"Prabhu!" he gasped. "What has happened? I have used the most powerful celestial weapons known to the Aryavart! Why can I not kill him?!"
Lord Sri Krishna looked at the devastated King of Magadha. He smiled, a profound, serene expression that held the secrets of existence.
"Bahu," Krishna said gently, "You struck true, and your power is unmatched. But Krodhakala has obtained an extraordinary boon from Lord Brahma himself."
Krishna paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "Krodhakala knew of his brother's fate. He knew the threat of the Kali Yuga mortal. So, he asked for two impossible conditions for his death: First, that he can only be killed by a mortal of the Kali Yuga—which you are."
"But he added a layer of absolute insurance: that his killer must use a weapon that has never before been conceived, forged, or is presently known."
Bahubali's eyes went wide as the full, crushing implications of the boon dawned upon him. The Brahmastra, the Narayana Astra, the Pashupatastra—they were all ancient, known weapons. He was the correct executioner, but he wielded the wrong tools. The answer lay not in the arsenal of the past, but in the innovation of the future.
A deep contemplative look settled on Bahubali's face. He was the man of the Kali Yuga, standing before a demon protected by an impossible loophole. He had to create something entirely new to kill an ancient evil.