Gavaksha remained on the ground for several moments, taking deep and heavy breaths as he tried to recover from the impact.
His back ached, his muscles burned, and nearly every part of his body carried some bruises from the battle.
Karna had already begun walking away when Gavaksha finally spoke, his voice carrying across the training ground. "I must say, Maharaj, you are as powerful as King Sugriva when it comes to close combat. I am not a match for you, even with the divine mace."
There was no shame in his voice now, only an honest acknowledgment of what he had witnessed.
But then again, Vanaras are simple beings. One could say they can be naive and honest as well.
Karna stopped and looked back at him with a small smile. "You have been away from battle for a very long time, Gavaksha. Your body and instincts will need time to return to what they once were. But that is alright. One day, you will become worthy of earning the right to wield that divine mace. For now, however, I must take it back."
Karna dismissed the weapon from Gavaksha's hands.
The divine mace vanished, and with a simple movement of his raised hand, it returned to Karna's possession.
He placed it beside him and then sat upon the ground.
His attention shifted toward the soldiers who had been injured during the training exercise.
Some were still lying where they had fallen, while others had been ordered by Karna not to be taken to the healing wards because he had wanted them to observe the battle until it was finished.
Karna raised his hands once again. This time, a Veena materialized before him. He settled it comfortably against his body, closed his eyes for a moment, and then began to play.
The first notes of the healing Raga of Mahadeva spread through the training ground.
The melody was gentle, but there was something within it that seemed to settle the body itself. The soldiers who had been lying on the ground slowly became still, their strained breathing easing as the sound reached them.
Cuts began closing. Bruises faded. Injured muscles recovered, and the pain that had remained after the battle gradually disappeared.
Even those among the soldiers who had been carrying illnesses within their bodies, some of which they had not even realized were present, felt something changing within them.
By the time Karna finished the raga, the men who had been unable to stand were sitting upright, touching their bodies in disbelief as they found that their wounds had completely healed.
Gavaksha had also recovered.
He slowly rose to his feet and looked down at his hands.
He flexed his fingers, then touched his abdomen and shoulders, checking the places where he had been injured only moments earlier. There was nothing left. Not even the pain remained.
Gavaksha looked toward Karna in shock. 'I never witnessed such an individual even in my own time,' he thought. He had seen the powers of great warriors, sages, and divine beings during his former life, yet Karna seemed to possess an unusual combination of strength, divine ability, and compassion that he had rarely encountered. 'Perhaps it truly is a blessing that fate brought me across his path.'
***
A few weeks passed.
By then, Karna's policies had been formally implemented throughout Anga.
The changes did not pass without resistance.
Several sections of society were deeply uncomfortable with them, particularly the provisions concerning women.
Many men believed that a woman's place was within the household and that education or participation in professions outside it would disturb the established order.
Others among the higher castes were equally displeased by Karna's decision to allow people from lower castes to enter professions according to their ability rather than their birth.
To them, the old divisions were not merely social customs but the foundation upon which their privileges rested.
Yet the opposition remained limited.
Karna had deliberately excluded professions that required Brahminical duties and specialized priestly knowledge from the unrestricted occupational rules.
He understood the influence of Brahmins within society and knew that their religious authority could not simply be ignored.
More importantly, he considered those particular duties inseparable from the devotional knowledge required to perform them properly. Since those professions remained protected, the Brahmins did not openly oppose the reforms. The remaining resistance gradually became quieter as people began seeing the practical effects of the new rules.
Farmers no longer had local lords extracting taxes directly from them.
Citizens could travel across Anga without being stopped by arbitrary entrance taxes. Women began entering newly established educational institutions, initially under the watchful eyes of curious families and skeptical elders.
People who had previously been restricted to professions because of their birth began appearing in occupations that their ancestors would never have been permitted to enter. The changes were not universally loved, but they were becoming part of everyday life.
Keshivarma and the other vassal lords, meanwhile, appeared to have accepted Karna's authority.
Even Keshivarma, who had once openly proclaimed himself the rightful King of Anga, implemented the royal policies within his territory.
Whether that acceptance came from genuine submission, fear, calculation, or simply an unwillingness to challenge Karna directly was difficult to determine. Karna did not concern himself with the distinction as long as the laws were obeyed and the people benefited.
During the final week of his stay, Karna travelled throughout Anga.
He did not limit himself to the palaces and administrative buildings of the major cities.
Riding through the kingdom in his divine chariot, he visited several important settlements and spoke directly with ordinary people. He listened to farmers, merchants, craftsmen, soldiers, and villagers, asking about taxes, roads, security, trade, and the changes that had taken place since his arrival. He wanted to hear what the people themselves thought rather than relying entirely upon reports prepared by ministers and governors.
Only after completing the tour did Karna finally feel satisfied.
'The kingdom is stable,' he thought as the chariot moved through the sky. 'There are still problems, but Anga no longer requires my constant presence.'
There was one final responsibility remaining.
Karna had promised that the vassal lord who made the greatest progress would become Governor of Anga, and he intended to keep that promise.
After considering the reports from every territory, the implementation of his policies and, most importantly, the response of the people under each lord's authority, Karna appointed a Vassal Lord from a lesser-known minor Noble family, Sanjaya, as the new Governor of Anga. Sanjaya had made the greatest progress during Karna's stay, and the people of his territory had responded particularly well to the changes.
With that matter settled, Karna finally prepared to leave.
He and Gavaksha boarded the divine chariot and departed from Champa, heading toward Kanipura. Navarathri was only a few days away, and Karna intended to return to his own kingdom before the celebrations began.
Gavaksha stood beside him within the chariot, watching Anga gradually disappear into the distance.
Karna looked back only once.
He had come to Anga expecting corruption, rebellion, and disorder. He was leaving behind a kingdom whose foundations had begun to change. Whether those changes would survive after his departure remained to be seen, but for now, he had done what he had intended to do.
Far behind them, in Mancherial, Ripudhaman received a letter.
An eagle had carried it to his palace, and one of his servants brought it directly to him. Ripudhaman broke the seal and read the contents.
A smile slowly appeared on his face.
"So Karna has finally left."
He folded the letter carefully.
"It is time."
For weeks, he and his allies had waited. Their plans had depended upon one thing above all else: Karna leaving Anga. His presence had made rebellion impossible, regardless of how many soldiers Ripudhaman or Keshivarma possessed. Now he was gone. The Governor was new and had not yet established the authority Karna himself possessed, while Keshivarma still had the Bala-rasa vessel granted by Varuna.
Ripudhaman believed the moment had finally arrived.
The throne of Anga was within reach.
But the following day, another letter arrived.
Ripudhaman opened it expecting perhaps news from one of his allies.
Instead, his expression slowly changed.
Keshivarma had been assassinated.
Poison.
The report contained few details. Keshivarma had been found dead, and no one had yet identified the person responsible. More troubling was what had disappeared along with him.
The vessel containing the Bala-rasa was missing.
Ripudhaman read the report again.
Then once more.
His fingers tightened around the letter.
The plan that had seemed so carefully constructed suddenly had a massive hole in its center. Keshivarma was dead, the divine blessing was gone, and the weapon they had intended to use against Karna was nowhere to be found.
Worse, they did not even know who had killed Keshivarma or whether the assassin was still somewhere within Anga. But he strongly believed that Karna might be behind it, as the timing was too coincidental.
Ripudhaman slowly lowered the letter.
Around him, the men who had once spoken eagerly about rebellion now remained silent.
The desire to seize Anga had not vanished because they had changed their minds.
It had vanished because the one advantage they had depended upon had disappeared before the rebellion had even begun.