King of Devas

Varaha charged straight for Hiranyaksha's giant body. A sharp, cold gleam shot upward, as though piercing through the clouds and splitting the void itself, striking Hiranyaksha's neck with unerring precision.

Once thought invincible and impervious to harm, the Hiranyaksha's body crumbled under the blow. His neck, which even Sudarshan Chakra couldn't mar, yielded as if it were fragile as glass. The skin sank was torn in layers, and with a deafening crack, blood erupted like a storm. A crimson mist filled the air, staining the sky.

A torrential rain of blood fell, painting the earth below in a macabre hue.

Boom!

Hiranyaksha's giant hammer crashed into the ground, powerless in his grasp. Blood splattered across his face, distorting his expression into one of agony and rage. He staggered back, clutching his neck with one trembling hand while using the other to shove Varaha away.

For the first time in his existence, Hiranyaksha felt the cold grip of mortality.

He was dying. He could not accept it. He wasn't the King of Triloka yet.

Desperation ignited within him. His bloodied eyes turned wildly, locking onto Indra, the King of Svarga.

"No!" A sliver of hope gleamed in his frenzied mind. His voice roared like thunder, "Amrita! Amrita! Give me the Amrita!"

Hiranyaksha's cry shook the skies, his blood pooling like rivers and feeding a storm of scarlet clouds. The mountains quaked, the earth split, and the world itself seemed to fall apart, creating a vision of absolute destruction.

Even now, he still had some strength left! Indra's expression darkened, his divine senses recognizing the chaos bearing down on him. He raised the Vajra, his thunderbolt-like weapon, as divine energy surged through him.

The Sahasrakavacha, Indra's celestial armor, pulsed with its power. Wisps of green-blue Halahala poison coiled like serpents around the Vajra. The weapon's tip glowed as thunder and lightning merged with venom, forming a concentrated, deadly force.

With a burst of divine might, Indra hurled the Vajra. The poisonous lightning struck Hiranyaksha's massive form, engulfing him in an incandescent storm of agony.

"Rhaaaa!" Hiranyaksha clutched his head, his roar splitting the blood-red clouds and shaking the earth. His pain was so intense it threatened to strip him of his sanity.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Varaha, undeterred, charged forward. His colossal form moved with unstoppable momentum. With his fangs gleaming like celestial blades, the wild boar struck again, driving his tusks deep into Hiranyaksha's back.

At that moment, the assembled sages and Devas hastened to the mortal realm.

The once-familiar land was now unrecognizable. Fractured earth, shattered mountains, and rivers choked with debris stretched across the horizon. A blood-red mist hung in the air, staining the world with an ominous crimson hue. Yet even amidst this devastation, the colossal form of Hiranyaksha loomed in the distance, the flashes of divine lightning revealing the source of this apocalyptic scene.

Rishi Brihaspati fixed his gaze upon the wild boar, Varaha. In his reflective eyes, the boar's radiant, golden aura shimmered, and within it, a familiar figure began to manifest—the smiling visage of Lord Vishnu himself.

In that instant, the sage recognized the divine truth. The wild boar was no mere beast; it was an incarnation of Vishnu. Brihaspati's voice trembled with awe as he spoke, "This is… the Yogic Shakti of Lord Vishnu! This is his incarnation—Varaha!"

His revelation spread quickly among the Devas, who turned their astonished eyes toward the battlefield.

"It must have been the combined might of Varaha and the King of Svarga that brought Hiranyaksha to his knees," Brihaspati concluded, still in shock.

The Devas murmured their agreement, their gaze shifting to Indra, the King of Svarga. Draped in thunder and lightning, Indra wielded the Vajra with unyielding determination.

"What a fearless and heroic figure," Vayu, the god of wind, exclaimed, his voice filled with admiration. "Even the mighty Hiranyaksha cannot withstand his power!"

As the forerunner of the Devas, Vayu swelled with pride. Yet a question lingered in his mind, prompting a wistful sigh. "Do you think the Indra left on Airavata to guide Hiranyaksha to the Lord Vishnu's incarnation deliberately?"

Suryadev's brow furrowed in doubt. "Could it be?" he wondered aloud. "Indra, for all his bravado, can be impulsive, proud, and quick-tempered. But when faced with an opponent he cannot defeat, he knows when to retreat."

"Unless…" Suryadev straightened his posture, his eyes narrowing as realization dawned. "Unless he had a plan all along!"

A flicker of pride lit his face as he smiled. "It must be his new divine armor!"

Surya's voice brimmed with triumph. "Yes! Sahasrakavacha has absorbed the Halahala poison, making it immensely powerful."

Surya nodded emphatically, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. "Indeed, everything is unfolding under the careful guidance of the King of Svarga!"

Agni chimed in, his voice steady and assured. "Well said! That is absolutely true!"

The road lay shattered, where the Varuna's wrath had cleaved through buildings.

Soma stood in stunned silence for a moment before nodding. If everyone believed it, then it must be true. Indra had clearly orchestrated this outcome, manipulating Hiranyaksha as if the Asura were merely a pawn in his grand design.

"So, the King of Svarga had a plan all along!" Soma finally exclaimed, a note of awe in his voice.

Hearing the conviction in the words of the Devas, the Brihaspati's eyes gleamed with understanding. He quickly retrieved his pen and began recording the momentous events.

"The King of Svarga," he murmured as his pen danced across the parchment, "guided by the wisdom of the Vedas, lured the Asura King Hiranyaksha to the Bhuloka. This allowed the incarnation of Lord Vishnu, Varaha, to descend. Through their combined strength…"

Sage Brihaspati wrote with an elegant flourish, his script flowing like a dragon and serpent in perfect harmony.

...

...

On the battlefield, Hiranyaksha's bloodshot eyes widened, his final, trembling gaze locking onto Indra. His massive body trembled as his life force ebbed away.

"My brother... Hiranyakashipu… will avenge me!" he rasped, his voice a furious blend of rage and despair. "Revenge shall be…"

With a deafening crash, Hiranyaksha's colossal form crumpled to the ground, sending shockwaves that rippled through the very fabric of the human world.

Let it be an oath, or let the world bear witness—the Asura's shall rise again.

The earth trembled under the weight of his lifeless form, his colossal corpse now a monument to his defeat.

Varaha, the wild boar incarnation of Vishnu, stood victorious. A serene smile graced his face as he folded his hands in reverence and bowed slightly toward Indra.

"Indra!" Varaha said, his voice rich with gratitude. "The Trimurti cannot intervene directly in the world, bound by our karmic duties. But when one who is dear to us calls for help, as you did, we are compelled to answer."

With that, Varaha bent down and seized Hiranyaksha's enormous body. Taking purposeful strides, he began his journey toward the Milk Sea, his towering figure crossing vast stretches of the human world with ease.

The Devas watched in astonishment, their expressions filled with wonder and confusion. They could not fathom what Varaha intended to do.

"I'll follow and see what happens," Surya said, breaking the silence.

...

Viprachitti's voice cracked with shock. "Hiranyaksha is dead!"

Simhika's eyes narrowed in anger and confusion. "The king is gone…"

Puloman growled lowly, his voice full of suspicion. "Did Vishnu kill him?"

Viprachitti, his loyalty unshaken, glared at Puloman. "The Devas couldn't have done this. At least not alone. Only Vishnu could have killed him. We must avenge him." His words were filled with both grief and resolve. The Asuras had lost their king, and now they would seek retribution.

Simhika, ever the supportive wife, placed a hand on Viprachitti's shoulder, but her gaze flickered to Puloman, sensing his rising ambition. She warned, "Puloman, now is not the time for power struggles. We need unity."

Panic rippled through the Asura army, and their once-imposing ranks began to crumble. The Gandharvas, who had been on the defensive, now found themselves watching the Asura army fall apart.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Varaha, carrying Hiranyaksha's corpse, reached the Kshira Sagara. With a mighty heave, he cast the body into the waters. The colossal splash sent waves surging through the sea, scattering countless Asuras in every direction.

Their arrogant king, once a symbol of their might, had been discarded like refuse. Fear gripped their hearts as the scene unfolded.

"We need to seek out Hiranyakashipu. He is the one who can avenge his brother. We should let our king's last wish known to his brother."

Simhika nodded, her gaze hardening. "We must find him before the Devas can strike again. We cannot allow our enemies to think they have won."

Puloman, his voice tinged with uncertainty, spoke up. "What if we run? Save ourselves. We don't know what the Devas will do next."

Viprachitti glared at him. "No. We are not cowards. We go to Hiranyakashipu. He will know how to fight back. Our king's death will not be in vain."

Simhika placed a reassuring hand on Viprachitti's shoulder. "We stay united. We find Hiranyakashipu and bring him the news."

Puloman hesitated, then growled. "Then let's move quickly. The Devas might already be on their way."

The cries of terror echoed as the Asuras fled, their morale shattered by the sight of their fallen leader and the immense power of their enemies.

...

...

The Asura army crumbled in an instant, their ranks dissolving into chaos.

Puloman's eyes flickered a glint of surprise momentarily crossing his face. Hiranyaksha is dead at last!

His thoughts turned to Hiranyaksha's twin brother, Hiranyakashipu, who was still engrossed in rigorous penance to earn boons from Brahma. Puloman smirked to himself—foolish dedication to such penance would ensure that no one from the Danava clan could rise to power for a long time.

My hard days are finally over, Puloman mused. He was weary of his role as King Danava; it was time to advance to the next stage of his ambitions.

"Puloman- the King of Asuras—that title has a nice ring to it," he murmured with a sly grin.

"Retreat!" Puloman commanded, waving his hand to signal the retreat. The disordered Asura army obeyed, pulling back in utter disarray.

Amid the chaos, Simhika's panicked voice rang out.

"Svarbhānu! Where are you son!" she called desperately, searching for her son. The tumult of the battlefield swallowed her cries, and there was no sign of Svarbhānu.

"Let's go!" Viprachitti urged, grabbing her wrist tightly. He tugged at her with urgency, trying to pull her away from the frenzied scene.

"Husband, Svarbhānu… he's our son…" Simhika froze, anguish etched on her face.

Viprachitti turned to her, his deep gaze filled with both sorrow and resolve. "If our son is lost, we can still hope to begin again. But if I lose you, Simhika, I will have nothing!"

His words struck her heart like a thunderclap, and despite her despair, she allowed herself to be led away, leaving the battlefield behind.

---

Svarbhānu deceitfully quaffed the amrita proffered by Mohini, thereby achieving immortality as two beings despite being beheaded immediately after: his head as Rahu and his body as Ketu.

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