The battlefield was a graveyard of shattered dreams, where the hopes of men bled into the soil. Blood drenched the earth, soaking into the bones of the fallen, painting the once golden fields a deep, dark red. The air was thick with the stench of death, and the cries of dying men echoed like ghostly laments. Everywhere, soldiers lay on the ground, clutching at the dirt, their eyes glazed with the knowledge that they would never see their homes again.

Their final thoughts drifted to the promises they had made—promises whispered in the quiet moments before they left for war. Promises to their wives, to return and hold them close once more. Promises to their children, to watch them grow and teach them the ways of the world. Promises to the elders, to carry forward their wisdom. And now, with each passing breath, those promises slipped away, dissolving into the void.

"Amma..." they whispered, a final word of longing as they lay cradled in the arms of Mother Earth. It was as if the earth itself, weeping silently, had gathered them into her embrace, trying to ease their pain as she wept for her children. The soil, red with their blood, felt like a warm blanket beneath their hands, offering a small comfort as they crossed into the unknown.

In the center of this vast expanse of death, a single chariot stood out, its wheel lodged deep in a hole. A warrior, his skin glowing like molten gold, struggled to free it. He was a figure of divine beauty, radiant as the sun itself, as if the very sun god had blessed him with his own light. The sun seemed to follow him, casting its protective rays over his body, but even the sun's blessing could not free the chariot from the earth's grip.

Suddenly, a voice, soft yet commanding, echoed through the battlefield. "Now is your chance."

The warrior froze, recognizing the voice immediately. He turned his head, and his eyes fell upon another warrior, standing at the opposite end of the battlefield. This warrior was tall, with dark, handsome features, his long, wild hair flowing in the wind. His body was a monument of strength, with arms as powerful as maces, and thighs that seemed capable of crushing mountains. He stood beside his charioteer, the epitome of grace and beauty, with a face as radiant as the moon and the peacock feather adorning his head.

The dark warrior remained silent, his gaze locked on the golden-skinned man.

The charioteer, his voice calm but insistent, broke the silence. "What are you waiting for, Arjuna?"

Arjuna's grip tightened on his bow, but he hesitated. His eyes flickered between the charioteer and the struggling warrior. "No, Krishna," he said softly. "Let him release his chariot wheel."

Krishna's patience was wearing thin. His gaze hardened as he looked at Arjuna. "Kill Karna before he gets his chariot wheel out," Krishna ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

"But Krishna," Arjuna protested, "Karna is unarmed!"

Krishna's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Did you forget how he backstabbed and killed your son, Abhimanyu? Have you forgotten the horror of that day, the pain that tore through your heart as your son lay slaughtered by Karna's cruelty?"

Karna continued to struggle with the chariot wheel, his fingers digging into the earth as he tried to free it.

Krishna's voice grew more urgent. "Then if you cannot kill him, break his chariot, Arjuna. Do it now."

Arjuna, his heart heavy with the memory of his son's death, slowly raised his bow. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, but he knew what had to be done. He took aim, drawing his arrow back with all the strength he could muster. He fired, and the arrow shot through the air, shattering the chariot wheel with a thunderous crack.

Karna stumbled backward, his eyes widening as the chariot splintered beneath him. Before he could react, Arjuna nocked another arrow and aimed it directly at Karna's chest. The memory of Abhimanyu's final moments flooded his mind, fueling his resolve. The arrow began to glow, an aura of divine power surrounding it as Arjuna called upon every ounce of his strength.

With a final breath, he released the arrow.

It flew through the air with deadly precision, piercing Karna's chest. Blood exploded from the wound, splattering across the broken remains of the chariot.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" Karna's scream tore through the battlefield, a sound of both agony and despair.

But then, everything stopped. The battlefield froze in time, as if the world itself had paused to witness this moment. The pain that had consumed Karna vanished, replaced by a strange stillness. He blinked, confused, as he realized that he could move, but everything around him remained frozen.

And then, from the stillness, a figure emerged—Krishna, walking calmly through the frozen chaos, his eyes filled with both sorrow and compassion. Karna recognized him immediately and understood what was happening. He felt a strange peace wash over him as Krishna approached.

"Krishna," Karna said softly, his voice weary but calm. "Can you answer my questions, my friend?"

Krishna's smile was gentle, but his eyes betrayed the weight of all he had seen and endured. They glistened with unshed tears as he nodded.

Karna's voice trembled with emotion as he spoke. "My mother left me the moment I was born. Is it my fault I was born an illegitimate child? I wasn't given the education I deserved because of my caste. Parshurama, my teacher, cursed me when he discovered my true identity. I was disgraced at Draupadi's ceremony. Even my own mother, Kunti, revealed the truth to me only to save her other sons. How was I wrong in standing by Duryodhana, the only one who ever accepted me?"

Krishna's expression softened as he listened. When Karna finished, Krishna spoke with a voice full of understanding. "Karna, I was born in a jail, with death waiting for me before I even took my first breath. I was separated from my parents at birth, raised among cowherds instead of warriors. Like you, I never had the privilege of a formal education, and when I finally received one, it was much later than others. I didn't marry the woman I loved, but those who needed me. I was called a coward for protecting my people. And what have I gained from all of this? Blame. Criticism."

Krishna's eyes locked with Karna's, the weight of their shared struggles hanging between them. "Life is not fair to anyone, Karna. But it's not the unfairness that defines us. It's how we react to it. You, me, Duryodhana, Yudhishthira—we all face challenges. But the question is, in the face of it all, did we stay true to what was right?"

Karna fell silent, the truth of Krishna's words sinking in. After a long pause, he looked at Krishna with a slight frown. "Tell me, Krishna, was I not the greatest warrior? Was I not the best archer, despite all the odds stacked against me?"

Krishna's eyes softened, and his voice was gentle but layered with the weight of divine wisdom. "Karna, you were indeed one of the greatest warriors to have ever walked this earth. Your skill with the bow was unmatched, and your courage was beyond question. Few could stand against you in battle. Even the gods themselves recognized your might—Indra himself had to disguise as a beggar to strip you of your armor, knowing that as long as you possessed it, no one could defeat you."

Krishna paused, his gaze intense as he continued, "But Karna, greatness is not measured by skill alone. You were a brilliant archer, yes, but the greatest warriors are those who fight for a righteous cause, who wield their power with wisdom and restraint. Your loyalty to Duryodhana, though admirable in its own right, led you down a path of adharma. The weight of those choices cannot be ignored, no matter how powerful you were."

Karna's eyes searched Krishna's, looking for answers beyond the spoken words. He wanted to know—did his strength, his valor, his sacrifices make him worthy of being remembered as the greatest?

Krishna, sensing Karna's unspoken question, stepped closer. "Karna, you were not just a warrior. You were a man with the heart of a king, someone who rose above his circumstances with dignity and grace. The chariot that Arjuna rides, the one that even I guide, was pushed back by your arrows. With every strike, you forced the impossible. You fought like a god on this battlefield, and no one could deny that. But being the greatest, Karna... it is more than just the might of your arms or the sharpness of your arrows. It is also the battle within, the choices you make, and the cause you choose to serve."

Krishna's eyes filled with both admiration and sorrow as he looked upon Karna. "You were one of the greatest, Karna. Not because you were flawless, but because despite everything—the curses, the betrayals, the pain—you remained noble in spirit. You may not have always walked the righteous path, but your heart was pure. And that is where your true greatness lies."

In the stillness of the battlefield, amid the silence that followed Karna's final breath, a faint sound echoed—a soft, rhythmic tapping. Footsteps. They grew louder, closer, until they reached the lifeless body of the great warrior. The boy who had been walking stood there for a moment, motionless, gazing down at the fallen hero. He seemed out of place in the desolate expanse, a small figure amidst the devastation.

The boy couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, with strikingly beautiful hair that cascaded over his forehead. His eyes were an unsettling shade of purple, like a deep abyss that seemed to hold the weight of countless sorrows. There was an unusual air about him, a contrast to the chaos around him—he was dressed in a modern hoodie, its hood pulled up, with a mask covering the lower half of his face. The boy's pants were simple, yet the sight of him on the battlefield was jarring, as if he belonged to a different world altogether.

For a long moment, the boy stood in silence, just staring at Karna's body. His presence felt ethereal, almost unreal, as if he were a ghost haunting the remnants of the war. No words came from him; only silence, thick and suffocating, enveloped the air around him.

Then, breaking the quiet, his voice echoed across the battlefield, deep and resonant despite his youthful appearance. "Arise!! The warrior of the sun!!"

As if his command held divine power, a brilliant light began to emanate from Karna's body. It glowed brighter and brighter until, suddenly, Karna's spirit emerged from the still form, shimmering with an otherworldly radiance. Slowly, Karna opened his eyes, now disembodied, and looked around in confusion.

"Am I in hell?" Karna asked, his voice weary but tinged with curiosity.

The boy remained silent for a moment longer before speaking, his tone now laced with a mixture of sadness and reproach. "Why? Why did you?" His voice trembled, though he tried to keep it steady.

Karna's eyes widened at the sound of the boy's voice. It was familiar, yet strange, as if he had heard it in a dream long ago. When he finally turned to look at the boy, something inside him shifted. The boy's presence washed over him like a wave of calm amidst the storm of his past struggles. In that instant, all of Karna's worries, his desperation, his pain—they all seemed to vanish. There was something about the boy's face, even half-hidden beneath the mask, that felt like a ray of hope, piercing through the darkness that had long consumed Karna's soul.

A soft, melancholic smile spread across Karna's face as he looked at the boy. "Hey, kid," he said, his voice carrying a lightness that belied the gravity of the situation. "I think you were right after all..." A chuckle bubbled up from his chest, and soon he was laughing—a deep, hearty laugh that seemed out of place amidst the tragedy of the moment. "Hahahaha!"

But the boy didn't share in Karna's mirth. An unbearable pain seized him, radiating from his chest. His hand instinctively flew to his heart as he tried to hold back the overwhelming emotion that surged within him. Tears welled up in his eyes, falling freely down his cheeks as he struggled to keep himself composed.

"Why...?" the boy whispered through his tears, his voice cracking with sorrow. "After all I wanted... I only wanted a happy ending for my first friend. Why didn't you listen to me?"

The boy's sobs filled the air, breaking the silence that had once reigned over the battlefield. He wept openly now, his tears falling like rain onto the blood-soaked earth. He had tried—he had tried so hard to change Karna's fate, to give him the ending he deserved. But despite all his efforts, it had ended like this.

Karna watched the boy, his own eyes softening with a mixture of regret and understanding. He stepped closer, his spirit form shimmering faintly in the light. "There will be more blood on this battlefield if I didn't die today, kid," Karna said gently, his voice filled with a quiet wisdom.

"But why did it have to be you?" the boy asked, his voice choked with emotion. "Why did it have to be you, Karna?"

Karna sighed, looking up at the sky for a moment before turning back to the boy. "You won't understand it, kid. Some battles... they aren't about winning or losing. Sometimes, it's about the sacrifices we make along the way."

The boy's eyes, once filled with determination and hope, now reflected only sorrow. His tears continued to fall as he tried to grasp the meaning behind Karna's words. But before he could respond, he noticed something strange—his hands were slowly beginning to disappear, fading away as if being pulled into another realm.

Karna noticed it too. He smiled softly, a bittersweet expression crossing his face. "I guess it's your time to go, kid," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

The boy's eyes widened in fear, tears streaming down his face as he shook his head desperately. "No... please, it can't end like this! Please, Karna!" His voice was filled with anguish, his hands grasping at the air as he tried to hold on to what little time they had left.

Karna's smile remained, though tears now filled his own eyes as well. He chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with sadness. "Go now, kid. You have to save somebody too, right? Hahahahaha!" His laughter was a mix of joy and sorrow, a final farewell to the boy who had become his first friend.

The boy's body continued to disappear, now only his head remained. His tear-filled eyes locked onto Karna's, unwilling to let go of the bond they had forged. "No... please..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But Karna remained resolute, his gaze filled with both gratitude and acceptance. "Thank you for becoming my first friend, Veeraa... irrespective of my caste. Thank you for everything." His words were a final gift, a recognition of the connection they had shared, even if only for a brief moment in the vastness of time.

And with that, the boy vanished completely, leaving only the echoes of his sorrow behind. Karna stood alone once more, his spirit glowing softly in the fading light of the battlefield. The weight of all that had happened lingered in the air, but within him, there was a newfound sense of peace—a peace that came from knowing he had not walked this path alone.

-To be continued

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