The escape from the pit was chaos itself. The trio, Arya and the twins, ran through the night, their feet pounding against the dirt as alarms blared behind them. The prison was in turmoil—some prisoners joined them in the escape, others fought to seize control of the pit itself.
Ganak's men and the guards tried to restore order, but they were overwhelmed. The sheer number of prisoners flooding the narrow passageways made it impossible to contain the outbreak. Screams filled the air. The trio sprinted toward the exit, but as they rounded a corner, they found the main gates heavily guarded. Dozens of soldiers stood ready, their weapons drawn, forming an impenetrable wall.
Arya skidded to a halt. "We can't break through. We turn back!"
The twins followed his lead as they darted into another corridor. The sound of chaos behind them grew—prisoners running in every direction, guards screaming orders, the clang of steel on steel as fights broke out in the dimly lit halls.
Above them, on the castle's balcony, Yatnish appeared flanked by his personal guards. He surveyed the madness below and shouted, "Catch them all! Anyone who resists—kill them! No exceptions!"
The order was absolute. His men spread like wildfire, rounding up prisoners and cutting down those who fought back. The tide began to turn. One by one, the prisoners were subdued, their desperate rebellion crushed under the might of Yatnish's forces.
But Arya and the twins kept running. A pair of guards caught up with them. The fight was quick—Arya deflected a spear thrust and drove his sword through the soldier's neck while Rudra twisted behind another, snapping his arm and slicing his throat. They barely had a moment to catch their breath before more soldiers appeared.
"Keep moving!" Arya commanded.
With no other path left, they turned toward the castle itself.
Yatnish roared from above. "Seal the exits! They're headed inside!"
Arya and the twins stormed into the castle, followed closely by a dozen prisoners who had chosen to fight alongside them. The moment they entered, they were met with resistance—guards filled the grand hallways, blocking their path. There was no turning back now.
The Hallway Battle
The first-floor hallway was a battlefield. The guards moved in formation, shoulder to shoulder, their swords gleaming in the dim torchlight. Arya, the twins, and their twelve followers stood across from them, outnumbered but not outmatched.
The silence before the battle was shattered when Rudra launched forward first. He twisted through the nearest guard's defenses, his chain whipping around a man's throat before yanking him to the ground. Raghav followed, using his spear to thrust and pull back, keeping the guards at bay. Arya fought with calculated precision, cutting down men with swift, efficient strikes.
The hallway was tight, bodies clashed and slammed into walls. A soldier grabbed Arya from behind—Arya twisted, slamming an elbow into the man's face before stabbing his sword backward into his gut. Rudra ducked beneath a wild swing, rolling forward and using his momentum to plunge his knife into a guard's ribs. Raghav spun his spear in a wide arc, slicing into two enemies at once.
The prisoners fought with desperation, clawing, stabbing, doing anything to stay alive. They formed a shield against the onslaught, using their numbers to push forward. The fight raged on, the sounds of battle echoing through the castle.
One by one, the guards fell. Blood coated the stone floor. The survivors pressed on, climbing the staircase to the second floor, leaving some of their men behind to guard the entrance.
The Showdown: Arya vs. Ashvapati
As they reached the second floor, Yatnish stood waiting, a smirk on his lips.
Beside him, Marketu sneered. Behind them, more soldiers filled the chamber. Arya locked eyes with Yatnish, but his attention shifted as another figure stepped forward—Ashvapati. The mountain of a man wielded his massive hammer, its weight causing the floor beneath him to groan.
"This ends here," Ashvapati said, his voice steady.
Arya braced himself. He had expected this fight. He was ready.
Ashvapati lunged first, swinging his hammer with terrifying speed. Arya barely dodged, rolling to the side as the weapon crashed into the ground, sending cracks through the stone floor. Arya retaliated, slicing at Ashvapati's exposed side, but the warlord twisted, catching the blade against his gauntlet before shoving Arya back.
Yatnish laughed from his perch. "Kill him already! Stop playing around!"
Ashvapati attacked relentlessly, his hammer a blur. Arya dodged and countered, but every strike he landed felt ineffective against Ashvapati's sheer bulk. The fight stretched on—Arya tiring, Ashvapati remaining relentless. Then, with a final swing, the hammer struck Arya's side, sending him crashing to his knees.
Ashvapati stepped back, twirling his hammer before resting it against his shoulder. "My work is done here."
Guards rushed in, holding Arya down.
The Twins vs. Marketu
Meanwhile, the twins faced off against Marketu.
Raghav lunged first, spear aimed at Marketu's chest. Marketu sidestepped, grabbing the shaft and twisting it, nearly ripping it from Raghav's grip. But Rudra was already behind him, slashing at his back. Marketu spun just in time to parry the blow, the three men now locked in a deadly dance of blades.
Marketu's movements were precise, almost effortless. He dodged, countered, and struck with calculated efficiency. But the twins worked as one—Rudra striking high, Raghav low. Their attacks forced Marketu to stay on the defensive.
Raghav's spear finally found an opening—he drove it forward, piercing Marketu's side. Marketu staggered, but he wasn't finished yet. He roared, slashing wildly, forcing the twins back.
But it was too late. Rudra seized the moment, slashing deep across Marketu's chest. Raghav followed with a final thrust of his spear, impaling Marketu straight through.
Marketu gasped, blood bubbling from his lips as he collapsed.
But there was no time to celebrate.
They turned, eyes widening as they saw Arya, held down by guards.
The Betrayal
The twins fought desperately, cutting down the remaining soldiers, but Yatnish had one last move.
Kalanemi rushed forward, trying to help Arya to his feet. The twins stood, weapons drawn, facing Yatnish and his last remaining guards. It was over. They had won.
Then, a sharp gasp cut through the air.
Arya stiffened.
A dagger was buried deep in his lower back.
Blood poured from the wound, staining his clothes. His knees buckled. His vision blurred.