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The war was over.
Ashes still floated in the air like broken memories. Bodies of fallen villagers lay scattered across the scorched earth. Silence ruled the ruins now, broken only by the moans of the wounded and the cries of those who had lost everything.
Then came the sound of hooves.
The village leader arrived—his cloak tattered by wind, his face pale with dread. His eyes searched the battlefield, but he was too late. Way too late.
Hundreds lay dead. The sky seemed heavier.
As he walked through the village center, survivors slowly turned toward him—some with hollow stares, others with quiet anger. But it wasn't him they looked at with awe. It was Parashu—the one who stood bloodied, breathless, barely able to walk… but alive.
The one who fought back.
Word had already spread:
Parashu saved them.
Not the army.
Not the leader.
Parashu.
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The village leader made his way toward him. His heart beat fast—not with fear, but with shame. The moment he reached Parashu, the boy didn't even let him speak.
Parashu's eyes burned with fury.
> "You don't deserve to be the leader of this village."
The words cut like a blade. Everyone turned.
> "Where were you when we needed you? After everything we've already lost—you still left us vulnerable. You knew how many soldiers we had lost in the last war. You knew we were broken. And still... you were gone."
The leader tried to speak, but Parashu didn't stop.
> "Step down. Find someone experienced. Someone who doesn't disappear when death knocks at the door. You've held that seat long enough. Not again."
A heavy silence followed. The villagers didn't cheer. They didn't stop him either.
The village leader finally opened his mouth—his voice quiet, trembling.
> "I… I went to find something… someone… who could bring back the soldiers we lost in the last war. I never imagined… that Kara would strike again this soon."
His eyes welled with tears. He looked around, but no one moved.
> "I was gone to bring back the dead. But I came back to even more graves."
He turned, broken, and walked away—his footsteps slower than ever.
But then his assistant stepped forward, glaring at Parashu.
> "You weren't there. You don't know what he's been through, what he risked."
The assistant's voice shook with rage.
> "If you don't know the anecdote , then try to understand before you pass judgment. Or keep your mouth shut."
Parashu stared at him, speechless—but his heart was still on fire.
He had saved the village.
But it still didn't feel like victory.
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