Capítulo 18: The Guardian of Mallikarjuna
The sun cast a golden glow over the landscape as Rudra stepped out of his inn, his gaze sweeping the sacred surroundings of the Mallikarjuna Jyotirlinga temple. He felt an inexplicable calm wash over him. This journey, though rooted in his devotion to Lord Shiva, was becoming a strange mix of self-discovery and a quiet longing to learn more about this world he now walked among.
As he made his way toward the temple, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Rudra? Is that you?"
He turned to see Reva, her face bright with joy and morning glow. She looked beautiful and glowing in the morning sun. Their meeting at Somnath had been brief, yet here she was again, on the same path.
"Reva," he greeted her. "You're here for darshan as well?"
She nodded, catching up to him. "Yes, I am exited to know and research on the temple and it's history."
Rudra chuckled softly. "You are clearly exited for aren't you?"
As they walked together, Rudra found himself feeling at ease in her company. Their conversation flowed naturally, Reva speaking about the history of the temple and its significance, while Rudra listened intently, admiring her knowledge of the past—albeit a history that was now vastly different from the one he had lived through.
"You seem to have a deep understanding of these places," she commented after a while.
Rudra smiled. "Perhaps more than you think."
They reached the steps of the temple, the towering spire looming over them, imbued with divine energy. As they prepared to enter, something strange happened. Time itself seemed to slow down, the world around them freezing in place. Reva's words trailed off as her eyes widened, noticing the change.
Rudra immediately became alert. His eyes darted to the shadows that stretched unnaturally across the temple courtyard. There was a heaviness in the air—a familiar energy that tugged at his senses. He knew this feeling; it was ancient, sacred, and formidable.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with the grace of a seasoned warrior. A tall man, clad in silver armor, stepped into the light. His eyes gleamed with the power of an ancient being, and his every movement resonated with authority. His face was fierce, framed by a beard, and atop his head rested a crown shaped like a coiled serpent. He was no ordinary guardian; this was a warrior of the Yaksha army, Shiva's ancient protectors. As he emerged from shadows the time around them stopped as if they have entered completely different dimension.
Rudra took a step forward, shielding Reva instinctively. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice calm but carrying the weight of his own strength.
The warrior's voice echoed across the temple courtyard. "I am Agnivetra, protector of Mallikarjuna. You dare approach this sacred ground with your power untested? Lord Shiva's sacred places must not be tainted by those who seek them for ill."
Rudra's eyes narrowed. He recognized the tension in the air; this was a challenge, not an accusation. Agnivetra was testing him—testing the purity of his devotion, his worthiness.
Without another word, the guardian lunged forward, his spear striking out with lightning speed. Rudra was quick, his instincts sharpened by lifetimes of combat. He dodged, stepping aside with practiced ease, but the ground beneath him trembled from the force of the blow.
Reva gasped, taking a few steps back, her eyes wide with shock at the sudden battle unfolding before her. She did not understand what was happening in front of her, she kept observing the situation. But historian and the curiosity got better of her and she adjusted quickly and was excited to see history unfolding before her eyes.
Rudra straightened, his gaze locking onto Agnivetra. "You test me," he said, his voice calm, "but I have no quarrel with the guardians of Lord Shiva."
Agnivetra's spear spun in his hands, and he attacked again. This time, Rudra met him head-on. With swift precision, he parried the blow with a sweep of his arm, and the two were locked in a flurry of strikes. The clash of their powers reverberated through the temple grounds, the force of each blow shaking the very earth beneath them.
The Yaksha warrior moved with the agility of a dancer, his spear spinning in arcs of silver light, while Rudra countered with strength and grace. Each strike, each step was calculated—this was not merely a battle of strength but of will and devotion.
Agnivetra struck again, his spear aimed at Rudra's chest. But Rudra, with a speed born of divine might, deflected the blow and twisted out of reach. His eyes blazed with resolve. "I have no intention of desecrating this sacred place," he said, his voice steady.
For a moment, the world stilled. Both warriors stood their ground, the tension thick in the air. Agnivetra's eyes narrowed as he assessed the man before him. He could sense the immense power in Rudra, the ancient energy that coursed through his veins. But there was something else—a deeper connection, an undeniable link to Lord Shiva himself.
The guardian lowered his spear, though his gaze remained sharp. "You are not what you seem, are you?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost contemplative.
Rudra stood tall, his breathing steady, though his body hummed with the energy of the fight. "No," he replied quietly, "I am not."
Before Agnivetra could respond, the air around them seemed to shimmer, as though time itself was returning to its normal flow. Reva, who had watched the entire exchange with wide eyes, blinked in confusion, her voice barely above a whisper. "What just happened?"
Rudra turned to her, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Just a test."
Agnivetra watched him for a moment longer, then turned away, his form dissolving into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. But before he vanished completely, his voice echoed through the courtyard. "We will meet again."
Rudra watched him disappear, his mind already turning over the meaning of the encounter. His journey was far from over, and as he stepped into the temple, he could feel the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on him.
The temple doors creaked open, and Rudra felt a flood of energy wash over him. This was no ordinary place—Mallikarjuna was alive with the presence of his Lord. As he stepped forward, ready to offer his prayers, his mind remained fixed on the test he had just faced and the challenges that lay ahead.
But for now, in this sacred space, he allowed himself to breathe, to feel the connection with Lord Shiva that had guided him for millennia. And though his journey had only just begun, he felt a strange sense of peace, knowing that, whatever may come, he would face it with renewed strength.
The fight may have ended, but the conversation—between him, the guardian, and perhaps the gods themselves—was far from over.
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