Three years passed like a breath in the wind. Aryan was now eleven, his eyes sharper, his presence more composed. Karna, standing tall at fourteen, had grown into a formidable young warrior. Their days under Guru Parshuram ji had shaped them in ways unimaginable to ordinary men. But Aryan wasn't ordinary. With the System multiplying his skills and knowledge by 1000 times, he had reached demi-god level in every domain taught—medicine, philosophy, weapons, combat, survival, and even celestial knowledge.
Guru Parshuram ji had once declared, his eyes focused and intense, "I do not waste my time on the mediocre. Prove your resolve. Lift the stone beneath which ancient fire lies hidden. Only then will I call you my shishya in truth."
Aryan had stepped forward without hesitation. Karna, too, followed, the fire of purpose burning in his veins. Beneath the sacred peepal tree, a massive stone sat, ancient and unmoved for centuries. As instructed, the boys had meditated for seven days and nights, fasting, training their senses to hear the whispers of the forest, the silence of the stone.
And then it happened—Aryan, guided by instinct and divine vision, struck the precise spot, revealing the ancient Agni-Linga beneath. The fire of knowledge awakened, and Guruji had nodded with approval.
"From today, you are not mere boys. You are sadhak—seekers of truth and wielders of sacred fire."
---
Now, Aryan's mastery had evolved to celestial proportions. He could diagnose a wound just by hearing a breath, bend metallic weapons with his fingers, and recreate ancient surgical techniques long forgotten. His martial arts were elegant, lethal, and impossible to track. He had even begun forming his own style—combining chakra flows with swordplay and healing arts.
Karna, on the other hand, had become an archer with such precision that he could shoot the eye of a bee mid-flight without looking. He trained relentlessly. When Parshuram saw him, he often whispered to the forest, "This boy will challenge fate itself… just like Aryan will change the very wheel of time."
---
One evening, as the golden sun dipped behind the hilltop, Aryan sat beside a stream near their training ground. Karna joined him, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Three years, Bhai," Karna said, drinking from the water. "We're almost ready."
Aryan smiled. "And yet, sometimes I feel like the real battles are still ahead. The kind that swords can't win."
Karna chuckled. "You and your riddles. I just want to stand tall. Prove to the world I wasn't born to be mocked."
"You already are more than that," Aryan replied. "But we still have promises to fulfill… family to protect. And I miss them."
---
Meanwhile, in Hastinapur…
Vasumati, Aryan's real mother, had moved back to the palace for safety. After divine intervention and Aryan's blessing from Lord Vishnu and Mata Lakshmi in Vrindavan, Vasumati had been staying there with Aryan's sister. But due to rumors of unrest and internal threats—especially from ministers aligned with the enemies of Aryan's fallen father—Vasumati had chosen to move temporarily to Hastinapur for protection under the Queen's seal.
Her daughter, Aryan's elder sister, now thirteen, had been growing up with poise and intelligence. She had become close with Dushala, learning scriptures, etiquette, and swordplay from Gandhari's court tutors.
Sitting by a balcony in the women's palace quarters, Aryan's sister turned to Vasumati. "Maa, do you think Bhaiya remembers us every day?"
Vasumati caressed her head gently. "Every moment, beta. Aryan's heart beats for us. And when he returns, we'll be there—strong and prepared, just like he wants."
---
In another corner of Hastinapur, Radha Maa and Pitashree, Aryan's foster parents, now served in the royal kitchen, beloved by all for their warmth and cooking. Pitashree would often say, "Hamare beta ka haath daivat jaisa hai. Usne daal makhani banayi, toh devta aashirwad dene aaye the."
Radha Maa would sigh. "Jaldi waapas aayega hamara Aryan. Krishna bhi toh usi ki raah dekh raha hai."
---
Indeed, in Vrindavan, Krishna, now five, would sit under a banyan tree, staring toward the northern path.
"Radha, you remember the boy who brought me the tricycle? He's coming again. And this time, he'll have even more surprises."
Radha, now seven, grinned. "I hope he brings more dolls too."
The children of Vrindavan had never forgotten Aryan's visit—the day daal makhani and paneer khadai filled every courtyard and the boy with stars in his eyes made them laugh.
---
Back at the ashram, Guru Parshuram watched both boys from a distance. His thoughts drifted.
"Simba is still training," he muttered. "Narasimha's son will return when the time is right. Until then, Aryan must become strong enough to lead a kingdom and face fate itself."
The lion cub, Simba, had grown in the divine forests beyond the mountains, testing his strength against rakshasas and other beasts, preparing to become the guardian Aryan would need in the battles ahead.
---
Late that night, under the moon's pale gaze, Aryan sat cross-legged in meditation. The system interface flickered before his inner eye:
> SYSTEM UPDATE: TRAINING COMPLETED
Weapon Mastery – Demi-God Level ✅
Medical Knowledge – Demi-God Level ✅
Philosophy, Strategy, Herbology, and Martial Arts – Enhanced ✅
Family Bond Strength: Stable ❤️
Aryan opened his eyes, fire and peace dancing in them both. He looked at the stars.
"We're coming soon… Maa, Didi, Radha Maa, Krishna… Everyone. Just wait a little longer."
The wind whispered in response, carrying his vow across the night.
And in the shadows, far away… an enemy stirred, sensing his rise.
The stage was set. The prince reborn, the archer brother, the lion cub in training, the lovers waiting, and enemies lurking. All moving toward a fate written in both blood and divinity.
Aryan's journey was far from over.
It was only beginning.