Dr. Rao paused, allowing the harrowing sound of Gauri's cry to hang in the air. Eleanor, the crew, and the audiences watching the simulcast across continents were stunned into a deep silence. The shock was pervasive; even the most optimistic viewers had hoped for Gauri's survival, but the clean separation of the arm meant the last sliver of hope had been extinguished.
Eleanor spoke, her voice laced with pain. "Dr. Rao, how could Zarakan do that? He was so weak, so paralyzed just moments ago! How could he manage a precise cut like that?"
"Remember, Ms. Vance," Dr. Rao replied, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of the warrior psyche. "Zarakan is a Commander, one of highest position in the Saka armies. He comes from battle and blood. His life force was draining, but his will to inflict pain was stronger than any injury. He knew he was dying, but his final instinct was to take his enemy with him, striking at the one weak point Gauri had exposed—the shoulder already compromised by the arrow. That, Ms. Vance, is the cold, desperate strength of a true veteran."
Eleanor nodded slowly, her mind still catching up. "And… Zhao. That name. It is familiar. I can feel the connection."
Dr. Rao offered a grim smile. "We all know, Eleanor. The seeds of history are often planted in the darkest earth. We will continue our story now, and we will see what lies in that name, and how the Samrat rises from this bloody, unforgiving forest."
Dr. Rao's voice dropped to a near whisper, signaling the absolute climax of the battle. "Zarakan's final act was the ultimate measure of his cruelty. He did not aim to kill her outright; he aimed to inflict the maximum possible pain and humiliation—a spiritual death before the physical one. But he underestimated the fire of Gauri's soul and the depth of her son's rage."
.....
Rudraksha, stunned into momentary paralysis, watched the horrific scene unfold. Zarakan, crippled and dying, had nonetheless managed to land a crippling, decisive blow.
He had tried to intervene, but the entire exchange—Zarakan's leap, Gauri's cry, and the final, devastating severing of the arm—had happened in a few blurring seconds. He knew his mother was superhuman, but he now faced the impossible reality: even the strongest can fall.
He saw his mother stagger backward, clutching the newly severed, ruined mass of her left shoulder with her right hand in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the massive gush of blood. Her legs were shaking, her eyes wide with shock, pupils dilated from the overwhelming trauma.
Zarakan, having expended his last, hateful burst of strength, collapsed backward onto the mud. Seeing the monumental damage he had inflicted, a terrifying pleasure overtook him. He laughed—a wild, ragged sound of pure, unhinged madness, the joy of a man who knew he was dying but had taken his enemy with him.
"Hah! I knew it!" Zarakan choked out, spitting blood and rainwater. "You would have dodged my attack if I aimed at your chest! That dagger was too short to penetrate your body, you witch! So I aimed at your most weak part—your arm! Your precious strength!"
Rudraksha, seeing his mother's life slipping away, lunged at Zarakan. The animalistic urge to bite him again, to tear him apart as he had Anuj, boiled up, but the civil training of his life, the lessons Gauri had painstakingly taught him, took hold. Instead of biting, he struck Zarakan's cheek with a trembling, furious fist.
Zarakan didn't stop laughing. Like a madman in the throes of euphoria, he continued to pour out his venom. "Now you will die for sure! With these injuries and a severed arm in this scary forest! I can already imagine how the beasts will find you, and you will die in severe pain until the end!"
Rudraksha hammered him repeatedly, punching his face, driven by pure, helpless rage. But Zarakan, now beyond pain and fearing only the inevitable, continued his vile commentary, his voice growing weaker but retaining its venom.
"It's such a shame that I couldn't taste a beauty like you before you rotted!" Zarakan turned his neck slightly toward the child, his eyes locking onto Rudraksha's face with cold malice. "Bastard, how does it feel to be a fatherless child? You know you are the product of your mother's humiliation. Shame you are not my slave, or I could use you. You have a powerful bloodline that should belong to the Saka Empire!"
Rudraksha paused, his fist frozen mid-air. That final, cruel insult—fatherless child, product of humiliation—hit him harder than any blow. His breath hitched, and he stared at this commander, his young face contorted with exhaustion and uncontrollable fury.
He drove his final, agonizing punch directly onto Zarakan's lower jaw, then fell back, breathing in deep, ragged gasps, utterly exhausted from the violence, the running, and the shock.
Zarakan was attempting to open his mouth again, gathering breath for one last, searing insult—a curse on Gauri's lineage—when a thunderclap shook the air.
And then, he felt an impossible lightness. He could no longer feel his lower body.
His severed head rotated slowly in the air falling down, his eyes wide in disbelief as they registered the sight: his own headless body collapsing into the mud, and Gauri standing over it, the sword dripping blood.
Gauri had used the micro-second distraction of Rudraksha's final, exhausted pause and Zarakan's open mouth to propel her body forward, fueled by the sheer, cold will to erase the insult. She used her remaining strength, and with a clean, powerful horizontal slash, she decapitated the Commander Zarakan.
The head tumbled to the ground, its eyes still processing the shock. He tried to speak one last, final curse, but the sound was only a gurgling, wet breath. "You… rot… in hell…"
And then, silence. Zarakan was finally dead. He had planned to take his own life with the recovered dagger after cursing Gauri, but fate, through Gauri's sword, had denied him even that final act of control.
The moment the sword finished its deadly arc, it slipped from Gauri's grip. She instantly fell to her knees, biting her teeth hard in a desperate attempt to suppress the agonizing scream she wanted to unleash. Her life force was sweeping out of her body with terrifying speed. She was losing consciousness.
Her upper body swayed, about to fall face-first into the muddy ground, when Rudraksha, galvanized by a terror colder and more profound than the rain, lunged forward. He managed to catch her, straining with all his might to keep her upright.
He pulled her heavy, collapsing body with great difficulty toward the nearest tree, settling her back against the rough bark for support. He then kicked Zarakan's headless body away, a small, furious gesture of vengeance.
Then, Rudraksha saw it.
In the mud, near where the final attack had occurred, lay his mother's severed left forearm, now a mangled, useless piece of flesh. He knew, even with his child's knowledge, that it was impossible to reattach. But the sight of it, a relic of her sacrifice, spurred an agonizing devotion.
Rudraksha scrambled to it, picking it up. He clutched the limb tightly to his chest, like a precious, irreplaceable toy. He couldn't bear to leave anything that belonged to his mother to the wilderness. It was a childish, profound act of desperate love.
He sat down beside her, pressing his small body close to hers for warmth. Gauri was silent, her breathing shallow, her thoughts consumed by the inevitable.
I… I will die.
The victory felt hollow. Her greatest vengeance, the man named Zhao, the destroyer of her life, was still free. I want to see his destruction, but now it's definitely impossible.
And her child. My child will be all alone. Who will take care of him? Who will guide him in this brutal world? The thought was a searing fire that briefly fought off the cold darkness of death.
Rudraksha, feeling her subtle movements, knew she was alive. The rain had now slowed to a gentle, steady drizzle, washing the air but not the blood. He began to speak, tears welling in his eyes.
"Maa, you will be okay. I know it. You are the strongest, most beautiful mother in this whole world. Please don't be sad. Talk to me."
Gauri's eyes, dull and heavy, slowly turned toward her son. The maternal instinct, the ultimate life force, seized her. She had a promise to keep, and a final instruction to give.
With supreme effort, she managed to raise her head slightly. Her voice was strained, a fragile thread in the sudden quiet of the forest.
"My… son…" she choked, her voice catching on her own blood. "Do you remember that I had promised you earlier? Now… you need to… make a promise to me also…"