The whisper of leaves seemed to carry an old truth.
"Your father," the forest said, "was once one of the most trusted soldiers of the village."
There was a pause. Then the truth unfolded.
"Years ago, a member of the Kara Army stole a vital piece of information. He ran, fled into hiding… and found refuge in your village."
"And your father—knowing everything—hid him."
Jamadigini had been sent alone to retrieve that secret. The village leader had made it clear:
"Retrieve it at any cost."
Jamadigini had nodded without hesitation.
"I'll do what must be done."
---
He reached the quiet village nestled by the hills, Veerath's village. He asked the people, watched their faces, listened for cracks in their words. Eventually, he found the truth:
The Kara soldier was being hidden under the protection of Veerath's father.
Without delay, Jamadigini approached the old soldier's home.
"I know why you're here," Veerath's father said as Jamadigini stepped in.
"Then you know what I've come for," Jamadigini replied.
"I know he's a criminal. But that doesn't mean he deserves to die."
Jamadigini's voice was low, steady. "For the sake of one life, I can't risk the lives of a hundred villages. He knows something—something that could burn the entire region."
"If you try to harm him," the old man said, stepping between them, "you'll have to kill me first."
Jamadigini's eyes darkened.
"Then I'll kill him... standing on your blood."
Veerath's father didn't flinch. "Come, then. Kill me."
"I don't want to hurt you," Jamadigini said one last time. "Give me the Kara soldier."
But the old soldier shook his head. Calm. Heartbroken.
"You already have. Just by being here... you've broken more than rules. You've broken trust."
There was silence. Then, steel was drawn.
No more words.
Their blades met in a sudden, brutal clash—
Fire against water.
Jamadigini fought like a storm—fierce, merciless, unrelenting.
Veerath's father moved like the wind—calm, fluid, graceful. He defended, not to win—but to protect.
The duel was beautiful and tragic.
Then came the end.
Jamadigini knocked the old blade aside. It fell to the dirt.
The old man stood unarmed.
Still, he didn't kneel.
Veerath's Father gave a faint, tired smile.
"Do what you came to do… soldier."
Jamadigini stepped forward.
He placed a foot gently on the old man's shoulder. Not in pride—but as a cruel mark of duty.
"You chose mercy…" he whispered.
"I chose a hundred lives."
And with a final breath—
He struck.
Quick. Clean. Certain.
The old man fell to the earth.
Jamadigini turned away. He didn't look back.
But his shadow... lingered longer than the sunset.