Dream - A Karna SI

21. REARGUARD

Karn - 18 years

Yudhisthir - 15 years

Bhima & Duryodhan - 14 years

Arjun - 13 years

Nakul & Sahdev - 11 years

Jarasandh's Camp

Jarasandha seethed with an anger that bordered on madness. His fury was palpable, a burning storm that roiled within him, threatening to consume anything in its path. The morale in his camp had plummeted to unprecedented depths; whispers of dissent and doubt were spreading like wildfire among the ranks. Soldiers who once marched with pride and purpose now questioned their leader's judgment, their faith shaken by the relentless assaults and the recent, devastating losses.

Hans, that sniveling coward, had drowned himself in the Yamuna, unable to bear the weight of his brother Dimbhaka's death. Jarasandha's eyes blazed with contempt as he thought of the fool. Hans hadn't even had the spine to seek vengeance, to channel his grief into something useful. No, he had simply given up, adding to the list of failures that now marred Jarasandha's campaign.

The deaths of Hans and Dimbhaka were an unmitigated disaster. What use were two warriors, blessed with invincibility against weapons, if they could be felled by a nameless upstart in hand-to-hand combat? At least Dimbhaka had died with some semblance of honor, battling to his last breath. But Hans? His end was nothing but a disgrace, a stain on the legacy Jarasandha had worked so hard to build.

Jarasandha's fists clenched as he thought of that nameless warrior-Karna, they said, from Hastinapur. A name now etched in his memory, a target for his unbridled wrath. Karna had cost him not one, but two of his finest generals. It was an insult, a wound to his pride that he would not allow to fester.

No longer could he rely on others to carry out his will. The army needed to be brought to heel, to be reminded of who commanded them. Slowly, methodically, Jarasandha began to reassert his authority, silencing dissent with brutal efficiency. Those who dared to question his leadership were swiftly and mercilessly dealt with, their punishment serving as a stark warning to the rest. The men began to fall in line, the fear of their ruler outweighing their doubts and uncertainties.

But this was not enough for Jarasandha. The humiliation he had suffered would not be forgotten, nor would it go unpunished. He would remember the name Karna, and he would make sure that this insolent warrior would pay dearly for his defiance. The walls of Mathura, once a symbol of the Yadavas' strength, would not protect them from his vengeance. He would tear them down, stone by stone, until nothing remained but dust and ash.

And Krishna-Jarasandha's rage flared anew at the thought of him. The cunning, elusive prince who had dared to challenge him time and again, who had orchestrated these guerrilla tactics that bled his army dry. Jarasandha vowed that he would find Krishna, drag him from whatever hole he was hiding in, and end his life with his own hands. The entire Yadava clan would be brought to its knees, and Jarasandha would be the one to deliver the final blow.

This was no longer just a campaign of conquest; it was a personal vendetta. And Jarasandha would not rest until every last one of his enemies was crushed beneath his feet. He would take command of his army himself, lead them to victory, and when the dust settled, he would stand triumphant over the broken bodies of those who had dared to defy him.

Mathura would fall, and with it, the Yadavas' hope of resistance. Jarasandha would see to it personally. The fire of his wrath would burn until nothing remained but the ashes of his enemies.

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