As we stared at each other, one of the men arrogantly barked, "What are you all staring at? Kill him and the others!"
They surged towards me, a chaotic mass of aggression. I sprinted to meet them head-on, adrenaline coursing through my veins. As we collided, I leapt into the air, delivering a powerful kick to the chest of the nearest attacker. He flew backward, crashing into one of the cars, the impact denting the metal. I landed lightly on my feet, ready for more.
The other men paused, momentarily shocked by the sudden display of force, but quickly regrouped and charged. One lunged at me with a koyta, a curved blade glinting menacingly in his hand. As his arm swung towards me, I grabbed his wrist and twisted sharply. The sickening crack of bone breaking echoed in the air, followed by his anguished scream. He dropped the koyta, and I caught it mid-air.
I didn't have time to savor the victory; another attacker was already closing in from the side. With a swift motion, I swung the koyta, the blade slicing through the air and embedding itself in his neck. Blood spurted from the wound as he collapsed, lifeless, to the ground. I wrenched the koyta free and immediately plunged it into the throat of the man whose wrist I had broken. He crumpled to the ground, blood gushing from the severed arteries.
A man with a metal rod charged at me, screaming in rage. I dodged to the side, then swung the koyta with precision, severing his hand cleanly from his arm. He screamed, the high-pitched sound mixing with the spray of blood that painted the ground. Tossing the koyta aside, I picked up a knife from the ground, and as another man rushed me, I drove it into his stomach repeatedly. Each stab elicited a spurt of blood, splattering my clothes and face. His body convulsed before he slumped to the ground, lifeless.
The remaining men, now witnessing the brutality and efficiency with which I dispatched their comrades, hesitated. Fear was evident in their wide eyes and trembling hands. The courtyard, once filled with aggressive intent, now reeked of blood and death. The few who had dared to approach me were now corpses or writhing in agony.
I stood among the carnage, my breath steady, my grip on the bloodied knife unwavering. The men in front of me were rooted in place, their previous bravado replaced with stark terror.
As all this unfolded, Athreya and the others emerged from the house, their eyes widening at the scene of carnage. The man who had earlier ordered my death, infuriated by his men's hesitation, shouted again, "What are you all scared of? He's just one man! Kill him!"
With renewed aggression, the remaining men charged at me. I picked up another koyta from the ground, gripping it tightly in one hand while holding the blood-stained knife in the other. The sight of them running at me fueled my rage, and I charged forward with a primal roar.
As we clashed, I moved with lethal precision. The first man's arm swung toward me, but I sliced through his wrist with the koyta, his hand flying off in a spray of blood. Before he could scream, I plunged the knife into his neck, twisting it to ensure a fatal wound. Blood sprayed across my face, mingling with the rain that had started to fall, washing the crimson liquid into rivulets down my body.
Another man lunged at me, but I sidestepped and brought the koyta down on his shoulder, cleaving through flesh and bone. He dropped to his knees, his scream cut short as I kicked him aside and moved to the next target. I slashed at another assailant, severing fingers and ears, the blade moving through them like butter. I stabbed my knife into necks and stomachs, each thrust sending fountains of blood into the air. The ground beneath me turned a deep, slick red.
A particularly large man came at me, swinging a metal rod. I grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head down as I brought my knee up, smashing his face with a sickening crunch. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth. As he staggered, I drove the knife into his throat, feeling the blade scrape against his spine.
The rain intensified, creating a macabre scene as blood mixed with the water, turning the ground into a slippery, red morass. Despite the downpour, I continued my rampage, undeterred. Two men, each wielding koytas, attacked simultaneously. I dodged one, but my shirt got caught on the other's blade, tearing it off in the process. The ripped shirt left me bare-chested, the rain washing away some of the blood but not my fury.
I caught one of the attackers by the neck, locking him in a chokehold. With relentless brutality, I stabbed his chest repeatedly, each plunge of the knife eliciting a spurt of blood. I let his lifeless body drop to the ground and turned to face the others. But at that moment, a searing pain shot through my back—a sneak attack.
I stumbled forward, the pain nearly overwhelming. They saw their chance, and several more rushed at me. I gritted my teeth, refusing to give in to the pain. I spun around, the koyta in my hand flashing through the rain as I fought back. Each swing of the blade was filled with fury, each stab of the knife an act of vengeance.
Athreya and the others watched in horror and awe as I carved my way through the assailants, my movements a blur of lethal intent. Even as the odds seemed insurmountable, I fought on, driven by a primal instinct to survive and protect those I cared about.
As I stood amidst the chaos, drenched in rain and blood, I heard the roar of an engine approaching at breakneck speed. Before I could react, a car barreled through the melee, sending several attackers flying and crushing them under its wheels. The car screeched to a halt, and the door swung open. Stepping out in his unmistakable style, wielding a long ax, was my old friend Brahma, also known as Abraham Qureshi.
With a wild grin, Brahma immediately joined the fray, his ax slicing through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. I couldn't help but shout at him joyfully, "Don't you think you took too much time to get here?"
Brahma, still cutting down the men around him, shouted back, "Sorry, Chote! The festival traffic was brutal!" His voice was filled with laughter, a stark contrast to the grim scene around us.
As he fought his way through the crowd, Brahma finally reached my side. We paused momentarily, the rain still pouring down, washing away some of the blood. Brahma placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and asked, "But are you fine, Krishna?"
I smirked at him, feeling the adrenaline course through my veins. "What do you think, Brahma? Do I look fine or not?"
He laughed heartily, "Hahaha, you look fine to me!" But our brief respite was interrupted as another attacker lunged at us. With a swift motion, Brahma decapitated the man, his head rolling away as the body crumpled to the ground.
"First, we handle this," Brahma said, his eyes gleaming with fierce determination. "Then we can talk over tea."
I nodded, the grin returning to my face as we plunged back into the fray. The air was filled with the sounds of battle—screams, the clash of weapons, and the relentless rain. Together, Brahma and I moved like a well-oiled machine, complementing each other's moves perfectly.
A man rushed at me with a machete, but I sidestepped and drove my knife into his gut, twisting it to ensure a fatal wound. Brahma swung his ax, cleaving through two attackers at once, their bodies falling in a bloody heap. The ground around us was a slick, red mess, the rain failing to wash away the sheer brutality of our fight.
I grabbed one attacker by the collar and slammed him into the muddy ground, my knife finding his heart with a sickening crunch. Brahma's ax swung in a wide arc, decapitating another man, his headless body staggering for a moment before collapsing.
The battle raged on, but with Brahma by my side, the tide was turning in our favor. We were a force of nature, unstoppable and ruthless. My muscles burned with exertion, but I pushed on, driven by the need to end this once and for all.
One particularly large man, wielding a spiked club, came at me with a roar. I dodged his swing and sliced his Achilles tendon, bringing him to his knees. Before he could react, Brahma's ax came down, splitting his skull with a wet thud.
The remaining attackers, seeing their comrades fall one by one, began to falter. Fear was evident in their eyes, and some even tried to flee. But we gave no quarter. Every man who raised a weapon against us met a gruesome end.
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3RD PERSON POV
As Krishna and Brahma continued their brutal onslaught, Athreya, Sneha, and Bobby watched from the safety of the house. The rain poured down relentlessly, turning the ground into a slippery, blood-soaked mess. Inside, Vasudha, her father, and their man were tied up, forced to listen to the gruesome sounds of the battle outside. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with fear and anticipation.
Bobby, visibly shaken, turned to Athreya, his voice trembling. "You told me about Krishna, but who is that other man fighting with him? He's... terrifying."
Athreya glanced at the mayhem outside, then back at Bobby. His voice was calm, almost detached. "That man, ha? For the past many years, his name has gained a lot of notoriety in this state. He is a genius who has secured a firm hold in the Jan Jagruti party and garnered adoration among the people in a very short time. He is dangerous and mysterious. His name is Brahma."
Athreya paused, his gaze intense. "It's best if we don't know too much about him. I don't want to know more than what is necessary. We already know about Krishna, and that is enough."
Hearing this, Bobby and the others nodded, their eyes wide with fear and respect. They turned their attention back to the fight outside, mesmerized and horrified by the display of raw power and brutality.
Krishna and Brahma were a sight to behold. Krishna moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his knife and koyta cutting through the attackers with deadly precision. His shirt, torn and bloodied, clung to his muscular frame, a testament to the ferocity of the battle. Brahma, with his ax, was a force of nature. His powerful swings cleaved through the men like they were nothing more than paper. Each strike was accompanied by a spray of blood, the sound of bones breaking, and the cries of dying men.
Despite the overwhelming odds, Krishna and Brahma fought on, their movements perfectly synchronized. They covered each other's backs, creating a whirlwind of death and destruction. The attackers, initially confident in their numbers, were now hesitant, their resolve crumbling in the face of such relentless savagery.
A particularly large man, wielding a spiked club, charged at Krishna. Krishna dodged the swing with ease, his eyes cold and calculating. He struck low, severing the man's Achilles tendon, causing him to collapse in agony. Before the man could react, Brahma's ax came down, splitting his skull with a sickening crunch.
The remaining attackers, seeing their comrades fall one by one, began to falter. Panic set in, and some tried to flee, only to be cut down before they could escape. There was no mercy, no hesitation. Krishna and Brahma were a relentless force, unstoppable and unforgiving.
Finally, the last of the attackers lay dead or dying, their blood mingling with the rainwater in the street. The battle was over, but the aftermath was a grim tableau of violence. Krishna and Brahma stood amidst the carnage, breathing heavily, their bodies drenched in rain and blood.
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As the rain poured down, mixing with the blood and mud, I surveyed the aftermath of the brutal fight. Bodies of the men who had come to kill us lay scattered across the ground, their lifeless forms a testament to our desperate battle. Amidst the carnage, one man still clung to life, barely conscious. Throwing the koyta aside but still gripping the knife, I walked over to him, grabbing his collar and demanding, "Tell me the name of the one who sent you."
He gasped for breath, eyes glazed with pain and fear, but before he could utter a word, his strength failed, and he slumped back, silent. Frustrated, I let go of him, my mind racing with questions.
At that moment, Brahma's voice cut through the rain. "I know who sent them to kill you."
I turned to him, my anger flaring. "Tell me his name, and I will kill him after this."
Brahma shook his head, his expression grave. "We can't kill him. At least, not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet?" I demanded, my voice rising. "Are you saying we can't kill this ant?"
Brahma's tone was firm but calm. "I said, not yet."
"Why?" I asked, barely able to contain my frustration.
"Because he is Satyapriya's husband," Brahma replied, his eyes meeting mine with a look of understanding.
The name hit me like a punch to the gut. "You mean Jaidev? Then this is the perfect time to kill him."
Brahma sighed. "No, it's not. I want to reveal his true face in front of Satyapriya first. Then, we can kill him. And anyway, this is all because of you."
"Because of me?" I asked, incredulous. "What do you mean?"
Brahma's frustration was evident. "I told you to impress her and marry her, but you didn't do that. And now this has happened."
I shot back, "I told you, she's five years older than me. When you suggested that, I was too young. Besides, what are we going to do with these bodies?"
Brahma looked over to Reddy, a man that come to pick bodies for me,standing by Brahma's car, waiting. "Reddy," Brahma called out.
Reddy nodded, understanding his role without further explanation. He would handle the cleanup. With that settled, Brahma and I made our way back to Athreya and the others, who had been watching the scene unfold from the shelter of the house.
(Word's Count:2426)