If Arc One was about survival, Arc Two was about reputation.
And Krishna's reputation was becoming… inconvenient.
By the time the sun rose over Gokul that morning, Krishna had already committed three crimes.
First: stealing butter from a pot that was definitely tied.
Second: stealing butter from a pot that was definitely locked.
Third: convincing everyone that the butter had stolen itself.
Yashoda stood in the courtyard, hands on her hips, staring at the unmistakable trail of white footprints leading directly to Krishna.
"Explain," she said.
Krishna blinked.
Slowly.
Then pointed at a calf.
"Moo."
The calf looked offended.
The village laughed.
Yashoda did not.
"You," she said, lifting him effortlessly, "are going to be tied today."
Krishna's eyes widened.
Within his mind—
«Threat Detected: Maternal Discipline.
Severity: Extreme.
Suggested Response: Innocence Mode.»
Krishna activated Innocence Mode immediately.
"I'll be good," he promised sincerely.
Yashoda was unmoved.
She tied him gently to a sturdy mortar in the courtyard—not tightly, not cruelly, but firmly enough that escape *should* have been impossible.
Should.
Krishna tested the rope.
Weak.
He sighed internally.
Balance, he reminded himself.
Let the story flow.
He sat quietly, watching ants march in neat lines, until the universe itself seemed to hesitate.
Then—
Anomaly detected.
Threat classification: High.
Designation: Twin Arjuna Trees (Nalakubara and Manigriva).
The system's tone sharpened.
«Cursed Celestial Entities Identified.
Status: Intoxicated, Arrogant, Immobile.
Recommendation: Tree-based Rehabilitation.»
Krishna grinned.
The two massive trees at the edge of the courtyard loomed unnaturally, their bark radiating suppressed consciousness and resentment. Celestial beings trapped in wood, cursed by a sage long ago.
They mocked him silently.
A child.
Tied.
Harmless.
Krishna leaned forward.
The mortar scraped.
Yashoda turned sharply. "Krishna! Don't move!"
He moved.
The rope stretched, dragging the mortar behind him as he toddled forward, step by step, toward the trees.
Villagers gasped.
"That mortar weighs more than him!"
"How is he pulling it?"
Krishna reached the gap between the two trees.
The mortar wedged itself.
He pulled once.
Nothing.
Pulled again.
Still nothing.
The system chimed dryly.
«Structural Integrity: High.
Recommendation: Mild Reality Adjustment.»
Krishna sighed and leaned back.
The earth trembled.
The trees cracked—slowly at first, then catastrophically. With a thunderous crash, both trees fell outward, splitting apart as divine light erupted.
From the shattered trunks emerged two radiant beings, kneeling immediately.
"Forgive us, Lord!" they cried in unison.
The villagers froze.
Krishna froze too.
This was not ideal.
He crossed his arms.
"Shh," he whispered urgently. "Inside voice."
They blinked.
Yashoda ran forward, eyes wide with panic.
"What happened? Krishna, are you hurt?!"
Krishna looked up at her and smiled sweetly.
"The trees fell," he said simply.
Yashoda stared at the destroyed courtyard.
Then at Krishna.
Then at the rope—still tied.
Then she fainted.
Chaos followed.
Once calm returned and explanations were… creatively adjusted, Gokul buzzed again with whispers.
"He pulled down two trees."
"They bowed to him!"
"I heard them call him—"
"No," Yashoda said firmly, once awake. "They were drunk travelers."
Everyone nodded.
No one believed her.
That night, far away, another demon watched through dark scrying flames.
Bakāsura.
Tall. Ravenous. Cunning.
Unlike the others, he hesitated.
"That child…" he murmured. "Three demons. Two celestials. Still alive."
Fear crept in.
He weighed his options.
Attack.
Or wait.
Within Krishna's awareness, the hesitation registered.
«Hostile Entity Detected.
Status: Observing.
Threat Level: Cautious.
Note: Rare intelligence detected.»
Krishna smiled.
Good.
Fear meant thought.
Thought meant mistakes.
He lay back under the stars, munching on stolen butter.
Arc Two had begun.
Butter would spill.
Blood would follow.
But never in Gokul.
Never for Yashoda.
--chapter 11 ended--