For several moments the Rakshasa merely stared at him. Then he shook his enormous head.
"No. I received no boon."
A trace of confusion appeared upon Karna's face. "Then how?"
The giant remained kneeling. "My father… When Bhagwan Vamana pushed Maharaj Mahabali into Patala, the divine energy left behind by that event did not disappear. From that lingering energy… I was born. I don't know why, but I was immune to divine energy despite carrying asuric energy. However, I was not invincible either."
The cave became silent once more. The Rakshasa looked directly toward Karna.
Karna's expression slowly changed. "So that is the reason."
Karna remained thoughtful for several moments. Then another question surfaced.
"So, your injuries… will they heal naturally?"
The Rakshasa gave a weak smile. "They will. But it takes time. Perhaps weeks. Sometimes months."
Silence followed. Then, to the Rakshasa's surprise, Suryatej disappeared. The brilliant blade dissolved into countless particles of light before vanishing completely. Karna slowly turned away from him. The giant frowned.
"You… aren't you going to kill me?"
Without answering immediately, Karna walked several steps away until he reached an open patch of stone. There he calmly sat down. Crossing his legs, he gently closed his eyes. The Rakshasa watched in complete confusion.
"What is he doing?"
The next moment, a Veena slowly materialized across Karna's lap—not through ordinary craftsmanship, not carried by hand, but simply appeared through Divya Sankalpa Shakti. Karna gently placed his fingers upon its strings.
*ting*
Then he began to play.
The first note echoed softly through the cavern—gentle, pure.
The melody carried no aggression, no battle, only peace.
The second note followed, then another.
Gradually the cave itself seemed to breathe together with the music.
The Rakshasa blinked. His breathing slowed. The pain was fading. He looked down at his severed fingers. Before his very eyes, fresh flesh slowly began growing. The bleeding stopped. The deep wounds across his arms gradually closed. Even the terrible cuts upon his legs began knitting themselves together with impossible speed.
"What… what kind of music is this…" he whispered.
Karna never stopped playing.
His fingers continued moving across the strings with effortless grace.
The melody carried devotion—a healing Raga created by Mahadeva himself.
As the music spread further throughout the chamber, something else happened.
The unconscious people inside the cages slowly began opening their eyes one after another.
A young woman stirred. An elderly man blinked repeatedly. Several children slowly sat upright. Confusion filled their faces. Then the music reached them. Their frightened breathing gradually slowed. The panic that had lingered within their hearts began melting away beneath the peaceful notes.
Some quietly closed their eyes. Others simply listened. But no one spoke.
For what felt like a long time, the cave knew only music.
Eventually, the final note faded. Silence returned. Karna slowly opened his eyes. The Veena dissolved into light. He rose to his feet. The Rakshasa stood as well. Every wound had disappeared. His severed fingers had completely regrown. He stared silently at his own hands.
"I…" He could not finish.
Karna merely nodded. "You are healed. Just as a wound left in sunlight slowly closes, so does the body respond when the mind is quieted by true devotion."
Without another word, he walked toward the iron cages.
The heavy locks broke apart beneath a simple strike of his hand.
One after another, the doors opened. The prisoners slowly stepped outside. Some supported one another. Others looked around with frightened eyes. Then they noticed the gigantic Rakshasa standing nearby. Panic immediately returned.
"It's him! The demon!"
Several people hurriedly stepped backward. One mother instinctively pulled a child behind her. Before fear could spread further, Karna quietly raised one hand.
"Do not be afraid. You are safe."
No one spoke. Karna turned slightly toward the Rakshasa. "He will not harm you."
Although uncertainty still remained on many faces, the presence of Karna standing between them and the giant slowly calmed their fears. The Rakshasa himself lowered his head. He dared not even meet their eyes.
Karna looked toward him once again. "Durmalochan."
The giant immediately folded both palms. "Yes…"
Karna's voice remained steady. "After today, the Rakshasa tribes shall no longer bring you human tribute. The fate of your future is now yours to decide."
Silence followed. Then, to everyone's surprise, the giant slowly knelt upon both knees. His enormous forehead touched the stone floor.
"O Lord… you defeated me. You spared my life. And after defeating me, you healed me. I have lived for many years. Never has anyone shown me such mercy. From this day onward, whatever command you give, I shall obey."
The former prisoners looked at one another in astonishment. Karna remained silent for several moments. Then he nodded.
"If that is your resolve, then listen carefully."
Durmalochan straightened.
"As the King of Anga desh, I hereby appoint you as the guardian of Kaalavana. From today onward, no Rakshasa under your authority shall leave this forest to hunt humans. Children shall sleep peacefully. Villages shall no longer fear the night. If humans foolishly enter your territory despite warning, it is your right as Rakshasas to hunt. I shall not interfere with nature. But no Rakshasa shall abduct. No Rakshasa shall raid. No Rakshasa shall make prey of those who never entered this forest. This forest possesses rivers. It possesses fish. It possesses birds. It possesses countless beasts. You are not creatures who can survive only upon human flesh."
Durmalochan lowered his head. "I promise. No Rakshasa shall leave Kaalavana to hunt humans again."
Karna nodded. "Good." He then turned toward the rescued villagers. "Your imprisonment is over as of now. Follow me."
The people were relieved and then began to hail the King.
***
A few days passed.
During that time, Karna spent much of his attention understanding the affairs of the kingdom and speaking with his ministers about the conditions outside Champa, but one matter continued to return to every discussion.
32 vassal lords governed different territories across Anga Pradesh, and while 20 of them had answered his summons and agreed to present themselves before the throne, the remaining 12 had chosen not to come.
Their absence alone was not enough to make Karna angry.
A king could be occupied, a journey could be delayed, a matter of state could prevent an immediate appearance at court.
What concerned him was the manner in which the refusals had been made, and particularly the message that had arrived from the most influential man among them.
The royal council had assembled once again when Vikramjit placed the first scroll before Karna. "Maharaj, this is the response from Raja Keshivarma."
Karna opened it and read in silence. His expression did not change, but the fingers holding the scroll became slightly firmer as he reached the final line. There was no attempt to acknowledge his authority, no explanation for the refusal, and no request for an opportunity to present his concerns before the throne. Keshivarma simply stated that he did not recognize Karna as the King of Anga and therefore saw no reason to attend a court whose authority he did not accept.
Karna folded the scroll.
"And Ripudhaman?"
Vikramjit hesitated before placing another letter before him. "His response has arrived as well, Maharaj."
Karna opened it.
The message was considerably longer, but its meaning was simple.
Ripudhaman was currently engaged in an **Ekadashaha Ahina Soma Yajna**, an eleven-day Soma sacrifice that he had undertaken with considerable preparation and expense. 11 other vassal lords had already gathered there at his invitation and, because they were participating in the yajna, would likewise not be attending Karna's summons.
There was no apology for their absence, no expression of regret, and not even a promise that they would appear before the King once the yajna had concluded. The words were formally composed, but the absence of humility was unmistakable.
Karna lowered the letter.