The rangshala was silent.

  For a moment, all Surya could hear was his own heartbeat, steadying after the intense duel. The dust settled, the weight of a hundred gazes pressing down on him. Then—

  A murmur.

  Then another.

  The audience had been shocked into silence, but now the wave of voices returned. Whispers among the nobles, quiet conversations between the younger kshatriyas, and the rustling of robes as elders leaned in to discuss what they had just witnessed.

  Surya exhaled, finally lowering his blade.

  Across from him, Virat had already sheathed his weapon. There was no bitterness in his face, no anger. Instead, he simply studied Surya for a moment before giving a respectful nod.

  "You have grown stronger, Prince," he said, voice even.

  Surya returned the nod.

  There was no need for excessive words. A kshatriya recognized strength, and Virat—proud son of Senapati Rudra—had done so without hesitation.

  Yet, despite the victory, Surya knew that he had not won easily. The duel had pushed him, tested the limits of his body. His breath was controlled, but beneath his calm exterior, he could still feel the strain in his muscles.

  This body… it's strong, but I still have a long way to go.

  A single duel did not prove everything.

  Then—

  "Well fought."

  A deep, resonant voice cut through the whispers.

  The murmurs died instantly.

  Atop the royal platform, Maharaja Veerajit sat with the presence of a ruler who did not speak lightly. His sharp gaze studied Surya, unreadable. Those two words alone carried the weight of his acknowledgment.

  Surya straightened, meeting his father’s gaze without faltering. Not just approval—recognition.

  The king's silence stretched for a moment before he finally turned away. The court announcer stepped forward, officially declaring the duel over. The crowd slowly began dispersing, though many cast lingering glances at Surya as they left.

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  Among them, some were thoughtful. Others displeased. And some—some watched with quiet envy.

  A Mother's Concern

  As Surya made his way back toward the palace, he knew that someone was waiting for him.

  He didn’t have to look up to feel the presence of his mother, Maharani Maitreyi.

  "You did well today," she said softly as he approached.

  Despite her composed words, he could see the way her eyes flickered across his form, checking for injuries. A mother’s instinct.

  "I am unharmed," Surya reassured her.

  Maitreyi exhaled, folding her hands together. "I know you must walk this path, but as a mother, I cannot help but worry."

  Surya felt a strange warmth in his chest. This was new. Familiar, yet unfamiliar. A memory that was not entirely his own.

  For a moment, a different Surya stirred inside him—the young prince who had grown under her watchful care, who had once held her hand as a child.

  The feeling passed, but it left something behind.

  "I will not fall so easily, Mata," he said, the words slipping from his tongue with ease.

  Maitreyi gave him a small smile. But her eyes—her eyes carried both pride and unspoken concerns.

  She understands the king’s responsibilities too well.

  If something happened to Surya, it would not just be a mother’s grief—she knew the weight of what it meant for the future of Suryavarta.

  And so, she worried for him twice as much—as a mother, and for the part of his father who could not express it.

  Surya bowed his head respectfully. "I will be careful."

  Maitreyi nodded, though her concern did not fade completely.

  "Come," she said. "The royal court will soon gather. Your father will expect you there."

  Surya followed, his mind already shifting toward what lay ahead.

  A Kshatriya’s Journey Begins

  He had barely stepped into the palace corridors when a firm voice called out.

  "Prince Surya."

  Surya turned to see Senapati Rudra standing near the entrance to the training grounds. His arms were crossed, his gaze sharp.

  "You fought well," the Senapati said. "But you hesitated in your offense. Your footwork left openings."

  Surya stiffened. He had expected no empty praise from the Senapati.

  "Strength alone will not be enough in battle," Rudra continued. "Meet me at dawn. Your training does not end here."

  Surya inhaled. The fire within him burned steady.

  "I understand, Senapati."

  Rudra studied him for a moment longer before nodding. Without another word, he turned and left, his presence as solid and unwavering as ever.

  Surya let out a slow breath. Tomorrow, his real training would begin.

  Unseen Eyes

  The palace was alive with movement, but even as Surya walked through the halls, he could feel it—the weight of eyes upon him.

  Some nobles spoke in hushed voices as he passed. Some of the younger kshatriyas watched with newfound respect. But not all were pleased.

  Some gazes held quiet envy.

  Some, silent resentment.

  Surya ignored them. He had no time for those who doubted him.

  Yet, deep within, he understood—his victory had changed things.

  Not just for himself.

  Not just in his father’s eyes.

  But in the eyes of Suryavarta itself.

  And this was only the beginning.

  The Road Ahead

  Tomorrow, at dawn, he would train under Senapati Rudra.

  The days ahead would be difficult. The road ahead, uncertain.

  But he had chosen this path.

  Because today, he had taken his first step.

  And to truly walk the path of a kshatriya…

  He had a long way to go.