(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Not far from the children—Hidden behind the rough trunk of an old tree—
Someone stood.
Silent. Unseen.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Kripi.
She had not come looking for secrets. Only for her son.
But instead—She found his truth.
"…What does milk taste like?"
The question still echoed in her ears.
And the answer—
"I've never had it."
Her fingers tightened against the bark. Her vision blurred.
Not because she didn't know.
"...."
But because she did.
Every day—She saw it.
The way he watched other children. The way he never asked.
The way he never complained.
And that… That hurt the most.
'…Why don't you ask me…?'
Her lips trembled slightly.
She turned her face away. Because she knew the answer.
"...."
He understood.
Even at this age—He understood their situation.
A father bound by dharma. A household bound by scarcity.
She couldn't blame her husband.
Never.
But the mother within her—It didn't care about reason.
It only asked,
'Why can't I give my child something so small?'
A single tear slipped free. Lost before it could even fall.
"...."
Then—Footsteps.
-Thud. -Thud.
She stilled. Peeking slightly from behind the tree—And saw him.
Another boy. Different. Too different.
His presence alone made the space feel… strange.
Clean. Bright.
Like he didn't belong to the same world.
His clothes—Fine. Almost royal. Jewels that caught the sunlight.
'…A prince?'
Kripi frowned slightly.
-Frown!
'What was someone like that doing here?'
She watched.
Carefully. The children turned.
Froze. Ran.
Just as she expected.
But—One didn't. Her son.
Ashwatthama.
Kripi's breath hitched.
'…Don't…'
She wanted to call out. To stop him.
But she didn't.
Because something—Something about that boy—Made her hesitate.
She watched as he approached.
No arrogance. No pride.
Just… Warmth.
"Will you be my friend?"
The question reached her ears.
Simple. Too simple.
Kripi blinked caught off guard by the question which was directed at her son.
-Blink!
"...."
And then—She saw it.
Ashwatthama thinking.
Not afraid. Not hesitant. Just… considering.
And then—
"Okay."
Kripi's eyes widened slightly.
A friend. Just like that.
No judgment. No distance. Her chest tightened.
Because she had seen the other children run.
She had a feeling this was something very big.
But this boy—Didn't. Her gaze softened.
'…Who are you…?'
Not suspicion. But curiosity.
A strange sense of relief.
For the first time—Her son wasn't alone.
And yet—A small unease remained.
Because that boy… Was not ordinary.
She could feel it.
In the way the air shifted around him.
In the way Ashwatthama didn't hesitate.
In the way her heart—Which had been heavy just moments ago—Now felt…
A little lighter.
Kripi wiped her tears quietly.
"...."
Stepping back further into the shadows.
She would not interrupt.
Not this moment. Let him have this.
Just this.
'…If nothing else…'
Her gaze lingered on her son.
'…Let him have a friend.'
The wind passed gently through the leaves.
Kripi did not stay.
She stepped away from the tree quietly.
Carefully.
As if afraid that even the sound of her footsteps might break the fragile moment she had just witnessed.
Her heart still felt heavy.
But now—There was something else mixed into it.
Hope.
She turned toward her home.
'…Maybe…'
Her fingers clenched slightly.
'…maybe there is something left.'
Even as she thought it—She knew the truth.
There wasn't. There rarely was.
Still—She walked faster. Because a mother does not stop trying.
And deep within her heart—A silent prayer formed.
'…Dear please…'
Not spoken. Not voiced. But carried with everything she had.
'…if today… if possible… bring something home.'
Because she knew—Those who sought alms could not choose what they received.
Fate decided that.
And today—She prayed fate would be kind.
Meanwhile… At the Riverbank...
On the shores of the Ganga—Two small figures sat side by side.
Devara. And Ashwatthama.
The river flowed gently behind them, its rhythm steady… watchful.
Ashwatthama looked around curiously.
"…What are we doing?"
Devara grinned at him.
-Grin
"Building something."
He scooped up a handful of wet sand.
"Here—watch."
Ashwatthama leaned closer.
Eyes focused.
Devara poured a bit of water over the sand.
Mixed it with his fingers.
Carefully.
"Not too much water… or it falls apart. Not too dry… or it won't hold."
Ashwatthama blinked seeing what he was doing.
-Blink!
"…So it has to be in between?"
Devara nodded hearing his question.
-Nod
"Exactly."
Ashwatthama tried it himself.
Too much water. The sand collapsed instantly.
"…Oh."
Devara laughed seeing Ashwatthama's reaction.
-Hahaha!!!
"Too much."
Ashwatthama tried again.
This time—Too dry. Nothing held. He frowned slightly.
-Frown!
"…This is hard."
Devara shook his head.
"No, it's fun."
He adjusted Ashwatthama's hands gently.
"Like this."
Together—They shaped the sand.
Pressed it. Stacked it. Smoothed it.
Slowly—Something began to form.
A small structure.
Then another. And another.
Until—A tiny castle stood between them.
Ashwatthama stared at it. Eyes wide.
"…We made this?"
Devara nodded proudly.
-Nod
"We did."
Ashwatthama's face lit up. Not a big smile. Not loud laughter.
"...."
But something pure. Unfiltered joy.
He touched the small sand tower carefully. As if afraid it might disappear.
"…I've never done this before."
Devara blinked hearing what he said.
-Blink!
"…Really?"
Ashwatthama shook his head.
A pause.
Then—Quietly—
"It's… nice."
The wind passed gently over them. The river shimmered.
Behind them—Unseen—The waters watched.
Ganga's presence lingered.
Silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Protective.
As if ensuring—This moment remained untouched.
Devara looked at Ashwatthama.
At his expression. At the quiet happiness.
And something within him stirred again.
That same feeling.
That something—Was missing. Still missing.
'…Milk…'
The thought surfaced.
And this time—It didn't pass. It stayed.
The small sand castle stood proudly.
Walls built. Towers shaped.
A kingdom born from laughter and wet sand.
Ashwatthama sat beside it, still staring.
"…We really made this."
Devara nodded, a small satisfied smile on his face.
-Nod
"Next time, we'll make it bigger."
Ashwatthama looked at him.
"…There's a next time?"
Devara blinked hearing the confused question from Ashwatthama.
"…Of course there is."
That answer stayed with him.
The wind shifted gently.
Devara looked up. The sky had changed.
The sun had moved. Time had passed.
'…How long?'
Something inside him stirred.
A faint sense. A quiet awareness.
'…Almost time.'
He didn't know why he knew.
But he did. He stood up.
"Hey."
Ashwatthama looked at him.
Devara hesitated for a brief moment—Then spoke.
"Do you want to… drink milk with me?"
Silence.
Ashwatthama froze. His eyes widened slightly.
"…Milk?"
The word felt heavier this time.
"…With you?"
Devara nodded confirming what he had said.
-Nod
"Yeah."
Simple. Natural.
As if it wasn't a big deal.
But to Ashwatthama—It was everything.
"…Really?"
His voice was softer now.
Careful.
As if afraid the offer might disappear.
Devara nodded again.
-Nod
"I said it, didn't I?"
Ashwatthama looked at him.
Searching. For doubt. For hesitation.
For anything that might break this moment.
But there was none. Only sincerity.
"…Okay."
A small answer.
But it carried quiet excitement.
And just as Devara was about to speak again—A sharp red flicker cut across his vision.
Time—Didn't stop. But it felt like it slowed.
A translucent interface unfolded before his eyes.
Crimson. Sharp. Alive.
Only visible to him.
[-DUM-DUM!]
[⚖️ KARMA GENESIS SYSTEM – ACTIVATED...]
A calm, mechanical voice echoed within his mind.
[Host Identified: Devaratha]
[System Initialization Complete]
Devara's eyes widened slightly.
But his expression remained composed.
"...."
[Core Principle: Karma-Based Evolution]
Panels formed rapidly.
Symbols shifting. Information flowing.
[🔹 Primary Function]
[Earn Karma Points by altering fate, influencing lives, and creating meaningful impact.]
[🔹 Secondary Function]
[Spend Karma Points to acquire:]
[-> Abilities
-> Weapons
-> Summons
-> Knowledge]
[🔹 Special Clause]
[Higher impact actions yield exponentially greater rewards.]
A new notification flashed.
[-DUM-DUM!]
[Event: Fate Intersection – Subject: Ashwatthama]
Devara's gaze instinctively shifted toward the boy beside him.
[Condition: Subject lacks essential nourishment (Milk)]
[Potential Outcome: Long-term deprivation and emotional imprint]
The screen pulsed faintly.
[Provide Milk → Minor Fate Alteration]
POTENTIAL REWARD
[Karma Points: +10]
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The interface hovered. Waiting.
Devara blinked once.
-Blink!
'…So this is it.'
Not confusion. Not fear. Just understanding.
His gaze softened slightly.
Then—He looked at Ashwatthama again.
"...."
At the boy who had never tasted milk.
Who didn't complain. Didn't ask.
Just accepted. A quiet resolve formed.
Not because of the system.
But because—
'…He should have it.'
The system flickered once more. As if acknowledging something.
[-DUM-DUM!]
[Intent detected: Genuine]
[Karma Efficiency Increased]
Devara smiled seeing it.
"Come on."
He stood up from the ground.
"Let's go."
Ashwatthama followed immediately.
And behind them—The small sand castle stood.
The riverbank grew quiet.
"...."
"...."
"...."
As both Devara and Ashwatthama had already disappeared along the curve of the Ganga, their figures fading into the distance.
For a moment—Nothing moved.
Then—The bushes rustled.
One head popped out.
Then another. Then three more. The same group of children.
The ones who had run away.
"…They're gone, right?"
"Yeah… I think so."
Slowly, cautiously, they stepped out from their hiding place.
Their eyes immediately fell—On the sand. On the structure.
"…What is that?"
They moved closer. Careful at first.
Then faster.
Before them stood—The small sand castle.
Walls. Towers. A tiny gate.
Not perfect. Not grand.
But… Different. New. One boy crouched down.
"…They made this?"
Another poked one of the walls gently.
It didn't collapse.
"…It's strong."
A third circled around it.
"…How did they do this?"
They had played on this shore before.
Many times. But never like this.
Never with purpose. Never with… creation.
One of them picked up sand.
Added water randomly. It crumbled.
"…No, that's not it."
Another tried copying the shape. It collapsed again.
"…Wait… I saw him do something…"
They paused. Thinking. Remembering.
Hands began to move again. More carefully this time.
Less rushing. More observing.
The castle stood in the middle—Silent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Teaching. Without words. Without its creators.
A boy looked at it again.
"…That new kid…"
A pause.
"…He wasn't like us."
Another nodded with a thought.
-Nod
"…But he didn't act like those rich kids either."
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then—A quieter voice.
"…He asked us to play."
The words lingered. Uncomfortable.
Because they remembered. They had run.
For no real reason.
Just because he looked different. The wind passed gently.
A small piece of the wall shifted—But held.
The children sat around it. Not mocking. Not laughing.
Just… Thinking.
And slowly—They began to build.
Awkward at first. Messy. But trying.
The children gathered around the sand castle.
Curiosity slowly turned into challenge.
One boy cracked his knuckles.
-Crack!
"…Let's see how strong it is."
He stepped forward confidently.
Placed both hands on the outer wall—And pushed.
Nothing happened.
"…Huh?"
He pushed harder this time.
The sand should have crumbled.
It always did in their sand house they build.
But—The wall held.
Firm. Unmoving.
"…No way."
Another boy stepped in.
"Move, I'll try."
He kicked lightly at the base.
Then harder.
Still—Nothing.
The castle stood as if it refused to fall.
Now all of them gathered.
"Together!"
Three of them pushed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Pulled. Kicked.
The sand shifted slightly—But the structure held.
As if it had decided—
"I will not break."
The children stared.
"...."
"...."
"...."
"…How did they make this? …It's just sand…"
But it didn't feel like "just sand."
There was something else.
Something they couldn't understand.
One boy huffed.
"Fine—let's break the top!"
He climbed up slightly—Trying to press down on one of the towers.
And then—His foot slipped. Not like normal slipping.
"...."
The sand beneath him gave way—Just enough.
As if it had decided to.
"WOAH—!"
He fell forward—Face-first into the sand.
-Thud!
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Then—Laughter exploded.
"Hahaha!"
"You look like a fish!"
"Your face!"
The boy groaned, spitting out sand.
"…Shut up!"
But even he started laughing.
The tension broke. The challenge ended. The castle remained.
Untouched. Unbroken.
The children sat around it again.
This time—Not as challengers.
But as watchers.
Respecting something they didn't understand.
And beside them—The river flowed quietly.
As if amused. As if aware.
Deep beneath the waters—Ganga watched.
A faint smile on her lips.
"…You built it well."
Not just the castle.
But the moment. She felt who is responsible for that.
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(Author note:) This story was a heavy A.U and all those characters belong's to the OG creator of the epic. Except the Mc and Oc.
And I would never disrespect them.
I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea's.
WARNING: If you don't feel like you dislike A.U on Mahabharat then there is a chance you might not like the story.
And the story won't just follow the book or any serials.
It's A.U so might feel a mix kind of feeling. Bye guys I hope you enjoy the story.
PLAN: WEEKLY TWO CHAPTERS WEDNESDAY AND THURSDAY.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone too!!!
Guys it will motivate me more?