The afternoon sun shone brightly on the training grounds. A leaf from a nearby Ashoka tree hovered in the air gently gliding into elegant arches around the grounds and finally fell near Svetavastra’s feet who waited patiently for the duel to start. In front of him at some distance was General Pushya, who was sizing up spears, swords and other weapons from the open display of armoury present on the perimeter of the training grounds.
“Why is he taking so long to choose the weapon?” The preta in the bracer said annoyed for having to wait so long.
The king of Dayita and the crown prince Aryaman watched from the podium seated in their regal chairs. The King looked stoic but was mildly annoyed on the inside. He wanted to get the Blood Oath done by General Pushya at the earliest. Prince Aryaman tried to calm himself but he was somewhat anxious. General Pushya was a renowned and veteran warrior of more than four decades of experience.
According to common urban legends, he had been on the battlefield since he was a little kid. It was sheer tenacity and resolute military leadership that propelled him to the position of the commander of the army of the Dayita kingdom when he was merely 23 years of age. This was before Aryaman was even born, before his parents had even met. Since then General Pushya has been safeguarding the borders of Dayita kingdom and expanding it in all directions. This was a man who never took a single day of rest or a single day of absence from his work. He had no family, and no other interests except warfare.
And so Aryaman worried about the safety of his newly found mentor. Sure, Svetavastra could use his divine sword and wield spiritual powers to subdue rogue unnatural elements - but what of mortal combat with normal weapons? He was blind on top of that and looked so young. Could he really defeat the Defender of Dayita realm? (General Pushya was given this title when Aryaman was a boy of 5 or 6 years. A powerful kingdom from the North had attacked Dayita then, General Pushya commanded the army deftly and took on an army double their size, defending Dayita on the northern border.)
From a concealed spot in the armoury that was in the barracks on one side of the training grounds, the old man, King Nahusha looked at the training grounds, his eyes fixed on Svetavastra.
“So, this is the cultivator,” he said to himself.
“I choose the spear,” said General Pushya coming onto the grounds with a spear in his hand.
“Then, I will choose the spear too,” said Svetavastra with an even tone.
The general gave way for Svetavastra to choose his spear but Svetavastra simply shrugged, unmoving and said, “Any spear will do.” A soldier then picked up a spear from the rack and threw it in Svetavastra’s direction who caught it and held it down.
General Pushya huffed slightly at this deliberate display of nonchalance, a psychological ploy to gain dominance in his opinion. It will be over before you even blink, boy, he thought to himself. Since Svetavastra was blindfolded, this was difficult to ascertain with any modicum of certainty.
The spear had numerous advantages over the sword - it could be used in close combat as well as in long-range combat, it could attack any part of the opponent’s body with ease be it the head, the arms, the torso or the legs. It can thrust, slice through and beat the opponent to the ground. It was honest as it was deadly. A beautiful and formidable weapon in the right hands. It took years of dedicated practice to master the weapon. One could not fake it with the spear and thus General Pushya chose it as his weapon to gauge his opponent’s response.
The air around the training grounds crackled with tension as the duel began, General Pushya charged at Svetavastra with his spear like a tempest, swift offence was his favourite tactic. His arms became blurs of motion, as he thrust the spear at Svetavastra with lethal precision, Svetavastra deftly managed to swerve each time, pushing his feet into the ground to gain momentum, he jumped into the air and put some distance between them.
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Svetavastra observed the red aura of General Pushya from his mind’s eye. He is not a demon, yet he has this aura. It must come from some deep-seated resentment and hatred. But against whom? he wondered.
General Pushya rushed towards him to attack again, this time seeming like an angry bull. His spear sliced through the air when it landed where Svetavastra was but a moment ago. He slipped through the shadows of each of the spear’s thrusts at him, like he was a breeze, like he was water flowing in an amorphous form evading the metal blade with elegance and grace.
Aryaman watched this, his breath held, his eyes unwillingly to blink should they miss anything. His eyes turned to awe from the initial worry of his brows. He hadn’t seen such craftsmanship in defence techniques till then. The king looked at the two figures moving quickly, one attacking, one defending, in the training grounds with interest. Svetavastra came with heaven’s mandate, of course, he would be competent enough to defeat General Pushya but instead of doing that, he was merely evading General Pushya’s attacks.
King Nahusha from his hiding place also wondered the same thing. Why was Svetavastra not attacking?
“Why are you not attacking him, No-god God?” the preta asked the blind cultivator.
“I want to tire him out,” said Svetavastra simply.
So, the blind cultivator ran around the training grounds with General Pushya behind him, for a moment it looked comical but no one in the audience dared to laugh, such was the reputation of General Pushya.
He is baiting me, General Pushya thought to himself. And I’m falling for it! He stopped chasing Svetavastra and stood motionless for a while calculating his next move. Sweating was dripping from the sides of his face from all this action. His rapid breath and fast heartbeats belied the calm his face tried to portray.
Svetavastra turned around from a distance and stood in the direction of the general. He didn’t worry about General Pushya throwing the spear at him, that would be futile given his display of nimbleness. He could anticipate any and all moves of the general by the subtle shifts in air and the accompanying vibration.
Should I save him? Svetavastra thought to himself. His spiritual powers could cleanse the general’s spirit of extreme emotions. He had been assessing General Pushya’s emotions throughout the fight to mark a baseline. Which is why tiring him was so important. When the physical body is tired, the emotions are easier to gauge. If General Pushya’s ill-harboured were strong even when he was physically exhausted - he would pose a danger to someone or even everyone sooner or later.
General Pushya's eyes narrowed as he reassessed the situation, he didn’t see Svetavastra’s handiwork with the spear as he was expecting to. This won’t do, he thought. The silence between them stretched, charged with anticipation.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Pushya charged, not directly at Svetavastra, but towards the side, picking up a cloud of dust in his wake, his movement a blur. Svetavastra remained still, his posture relaxed yet alert.
At the last moment, Pushya pivoted, launching the spear with a twist of his body, aimed not at Svetavastra, but at the ground just before him, using the spear as a diversion. As the spear struck the earth, Pushya was already in motion, drawing a secondary weapon—a short sword from his belt—planning to close the distance between them while Svetavastra was distracted by the spear.
But Svetavastra was not distracted. The moment the spear left Pushya's hand, he had already sensed the change in the air. Svetavastra stepped to the side with ease, with the spear embedding into the ground where he stood just moments before. General Pushya closed the gap, his sword raised for a downward strike, Svetavastra smiled and met Pushya's sword with his spear, deflecting the blow.
For a moment, the two stood locked in a stalemate, Pushya's sword against Svetavastra's spear. Then, with a fluid motion, Svetavastra twisted the spear, leveraging Pushya's force against him and throwing him off balance. Pushya stumbled, his footing lost, but he recovered quickly, retreating a few steps to regain his composure. With the general momentarily unbalanced, Svetavastra executed a swift, precise strike, not with the intention to wound, but to disarm. As General Pushya fell to his knees, his sword fell to the ground with a clank. His neck was barely an inch away from the pointed end of Svetavastra’s spear.
“Do you concede defeat?” Svetavastra asked the fallen general.
The old man hiding in the armoury, his lips curled into a smile. I found the saviour, he thought.