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

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The royal court of Hastinapur was choked in incense and silence.

Dhritarashtra sat upon the throne like a shadow stitched in gold. Beside him, Duryodhana stood with arms folded, eyes sharp with quiet triumph.

The Pandavas stood before them—dressed not in finery, but in the strength of their journey.

Yudhishthira bowed deeply.

"We ask not for vengeance. Only for what was promised."

A pause.

Long.

Measured.

Then Dhritarashtra spoke.

"Your father left no crown. The kingdom is mine to govern."

The words cut.

Yudhishthira's jaw tightened.

Bhima shifted.

Arjuna lowered his gaze—but his hand curled near his bow.

And then—

Krishna stood.

"Then give them what is just."

The room shifted.

Even Drona leaned back.

And finally—Bhishma rose.

He did not shout.

He did not plead.

He only said, "If justice dies here, the land will bury you with it."

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Dhritarashtra exhaled, slow.

Then waved a hand.

"Fine. Let them rule… Khandavaprastha."

A murmur spread.

A stretch of cracked earth, cursed forests, and ruins.

"A kingdom in name," Duryodhana smirked.

Krishna stepped forward—but before he could speak—

Yudhishthira bowed again.

"We accept."

Krishna blinked.

Even Bhima looked stunned.

"Brother—"

"We will build peace," Yudhishthira said.

> "Even from ashes."

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Later that night, in the silent lotus pavilion above the palace garden, Bhishma, Krishna, and Agasthya met in shadowed candlelight.

Krishna paced.

"He took the bait."

Bhishma nodded. "He thinks surrender now will prevent blood later."

"He forgets," Krishna said coldly, "that dharma dies more in silence than war."

Agasthya stood at the edge, watching the moonlit Yamuna.

"He hasn't failed," he said finally.

Both men looked at him.

"He's planted something," Agasthya continued. "We'll just have to decide what grows."

Krishna smiled faintly. "And if it must be watered with fire?"

Agasthya's eyes gleamed.

"Then I will carry the torch."

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