MAHABHARAT: Reborn as a younger brother of Krishna with a system

Chapter 26: Chapter 26:A warrior in disguise



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Panchala had never seen such an assembly.

The Swayamvar grounds glowed with marigolds, sandalwood pillars, and a thousand banners whipping in desert wind. Each banner bore the seal of a kingdom. Each kingdom carried a prince—or a warlord—hungry to win a goddess born of flame.

At the center of the stone arena stood the bow.

No string.

No arrows.

Only the weight of impossibility.

Krishna sat beside King Drupada, smiling like a man watching a play he'd already seen.

Agasthya sat quietly behind him, in the observer's tier—robes dark, eyes sharper than any sword present.

From the high gallery above, Princess Vaidehi watched.

Her gaze never left one man.

Not the challengers.

Not the crowd.

Only him.

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The first prince stepped forward.

He boasted for seven minutes.

Failed in seven seconds.

The second tried to lift it with both hands.

His shoulder popped.

The third cursed the gods, threw wine on the priests, and stormed out.

By the time the fifteenth prince failed, the crowd had shifted from awe to mockery.

Then the murmurs turned hostile.

"We are kings!" one shouted.

"Is this a trick?" another bellowed.

They turned toward King Drupada.

"Return our dignity," one snarled. "Or return your daughter to war."

Swords hissed from scabbards.

Men shouted.

And then—

Agasthya stood.

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He didn't draw a weapon.

He didn't raise his voice.

He simply spoke.

> "You confuse your titles with entitlement. This bow does not test strength. It tests truth."

The arena fell quiet.

He stepped down a single stair.

The nearest prince stepped back without thinking.

Agasthya turned slowly, letting his gaze pass over the crowd.

"Fight, and you dishonor her. Threaten, and you shame yourselves."

One bold lord sneered, "And who are you to silence kings?"

Agasthya looked at him once.

The man sat down.

Without a word.

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Above, in the marble gallery, Vaidehi pressed her fingers to her lips.

She did not smile.

But her breath caught.

> He does not command. He simply… is.

And across the arena, Agasthya looked up.

His eyes found hers.

Just for a moment.

But in that moment—

They both felt it.

Not love.

Not yet.

But something older.

Like they had once stood like this before—beneath a different sky.

And known.

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Then came the whisper through the crowd.

A rumor. A name.

> "There's one more…"

> "A Brahmin?"

> "No… a warrior in disguise."

And into the arena walked a man with dusty robes, calm eyes, and a silent bow in hand.

Arjuna.

The silence returned.

Krishna leaned forward, smiling faintly.

Agasthya did not move.

He didn't need to.

Because the arrow was already nocked.

And fate was watching.

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