Gokul had always been enough.
Enough laughter.
Enough butter.
Enough peace.
But destiny had never been known for respecting "enough."
The morning after Keśi's fall, the village woke differently. Not afraid—but alert. Doors opened a little slower. Conversations dropped in volume whenever Krishna toddled past.
Not worship.
Not yet.
But awareness.
Krishna felt it like a tightening thread around the village.
This place could no longer remain invisible.
That realization settled quietly within him.
Nanda felt it too.
He stood at the edge of the fields, gazing toward the distant road that led to Mathura, his brows drawn together in worry. Attacks were coming faster now. Smarter. Louder.
"Gokul is too open," he murmured to Yashoda later that day. "Too close to Mathura."
Yashoda stiffened. "You're thinking of leaving."
Nanda didn't deny it.
Krishna listened from the courtyard, pretending to be deeply invested in a mud sculpture of questionable artistic value.
Within his awareness—
Decision probability: High.
Outcome risk if delayed: Severe.
The system chimed softly.
«Strategic Relocation Detected.
Recommended Destination: Vrindavan.
Environmental Suitability: Excellent.
Butter Availability: Optimal.»
Krishna smiled faintly.
That evening, the elders gathered.
Nanda spoke calmly, but firmly. "For the safety of our children and cattle, we will move to Vrindavan."
Murmurs followed.
"It's farther from Mathura."
"The forests are dense."
"But safer."
Yashoda looked at Krishna.
He met her gaze and nodded slightly.
She exhaled.
The decision was made.
Preparations began immediately.
Carts were loaded.
Cows herded.
Children excited rather than afraid.
Krishna wandered through the village one last time, imprinting every corner into memory.
This place had shaped him.
But it was not where destiny would unfold.
That night, as stars burned bright above, Krishna sat alone for a moment.
His awareness stretched—not just across land, but fate.
Mathura churned.
Kamsa planned.
Aghasura waited.
The system spoke quietly.
«Transition Phase Initiated.
Arc Progression: Butter and Blood continues.
Upcoming Variables: Increased Hostility, New Allies.»
Krishna welcomed it.
Morning came with movement.
The village of Gokul set forth as one.
Krishna rode on Yashoda's lap in the lead cart, humming softly, watching familiar paths disappear behind them.
Yashoda stroked his hair. "Do you like Vrindavan?" she asked gently.
Krishna smiled. "I will."
She laughed. "You always say that."
As they traveled, Krishna felt something shift.
A presence.
Massive.
Hidden.
Waiting.
Aghasura.
He coiled deep within a forest ahead, his serpent form disguised as a mountain cave, planning to swallow the children whole.
Krishna sensed the intent immediately.
Line crossed.
Children targeted.
No negotiation.
He glanced at the playful children running ahead of the carts, laughter echoing freely.
Unacceptable.
The system chimed, tone sharpening.
«High-Risk Threat Detected.
Target: Multiple Minors.
Response Priority: Absolute.»
Krishna relaxed.
Good.
As the caravan neared the forest, the cave loomed invitingly ahead.
"Let's rest there!" some children shouted excitedly.
Adults hesitated.
Krishna smiled.
And walked forward.
"Stay here," he told Yashoda calmly.
She frowned. "Krishna—"
"I'll be right back."
He stepped into the cave.
Darkness swallowed him.
Inside, Aghasura laughed, jaws closing.
Krishna expanded.
Not physically.
Existentially.
Aghasura screamed as his body ruptured from within, divine presence tearing through him like sunlight through mist.
The demon died without ever harming a single child.
Outside, the cave collapsed harmlessly.
Krishna walked back out, dusting his hands.
"What happened?" Nanda asked anxiously.
"The cave was broken," Krishna said. "It fell."
No one questioned further.
They continued onward.
By sunset, Vrindavan welcomed them—lush forests, winding rivers, alive with energy.
Krishna breathed deeply.
This place hummed with fate.
He smiled.
The stage was set.
--chapter 14 ended--