(A/N):
Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.
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Bhu Lok...[1]
At the banks of the sacred river—Where Ganga flowed in timeless rhythm—A lone figure stood.
Water rose to his wrists.
Cold. Steady.
Unmoving—Just like him.
Maharishi Durvasa.
Eyes closed. Breath controlled. Mind vast.
"...."
The world around him faded—As his consciousness turned inward.
Toward the three pillars of creation.
And from his lips—A mantra flowed.
"Om, the eternal truth—salutations to the Trimurti.
Salutations to Brahma, Vishnu, and Maheshwara.
To the forces of creation, preservation, and dissolution—my reverence..."
The mantra echoed—Not in sound—But in existence.
Durvasa's mind moved deeper.
Beyond senses. Beyond time.
And there—He saw it.
The imbalance.
Adharma rising. Not abruptly. But steadily. Like poison dissolving into water.
'…Something is wrong.'
His drishti stretched further.
Across timelines. Across cycles.
Every era followed a pattern.
Dharma weakened. Vishnu descended.
Balance restored. A new Yuga began at the end of an.
Always.
But now—The pattern broke.
'…The avatar has not come.'
No descent. No preparation. No sign.
Just—Delay.
Durvasa's thoughts sharpened.
'…Why?'
Was it fate? Was it change? Or something deeper?
Something unseen—Even by time itself?
'…I must know.'
His focus deepened. His tapas intensified.
The river responded. Currents slowed.
Wind stilled.
Even the sky seemed to hold its breath witnessing how intense the tapse is.
Then—Butterflies.
Dozens. Hundreds.
-Flutter! -Flutter!
-Flutter! -Flutter!...
They filled the air—Swirling in shimmering patterns.
The space before him shimmered—As if reality itself made way.
And from within—Two figures emerged.
Rambha.
Menaka.
Grace. Beauty. Movement shaped into perfection.
They stood at a distance.
Watching. Measuring.
"...."
"...."
Menaka spoke softly—
"…He is deep tapse."
Rambha nodded silently looking at Sage Durvasa.
-Nod
"…Deeper than expected."
A pause.
"…We proceed."
No hesitation. No retreat.
They stepped forward. And began to sing and dance.
A melody rose. Soft at first.
Then—Layered. Rich.
Their voices intertwined—Like flowing silk.
Feet moved in rhythm.
Hands painted stories in air.
Eyes carried emotion.
Not crude. Not forceful.
But precise.
Each note—Designed. Each step—Calculated.
To break focus. To disturb stillness.
To pull the mind—Back into the world.
The butterflies circled them—Enhancing the illusion.
If a normal human saw this scene he would be mesmerized to the point thinking he was in a dream and die to not wake up from the dream.
The river shimmered. The air vibrated.
A perfect performance.
For any being—It would have worked.
But Durvasa did not move.
Not a flicker. Not a breath misplaced.
"...."
The mantra continued.
Steady. Unbroken.
As if—Nothing existed beyond it.
The song rose. Stronger.
The dance intensified.
More emotion. More allure. More force.
Still—Nothing.
Menaka's brows tightened slightly.
"…No reaction."
Rambha's gaze sharpened.
"…Increase."
They did.
The performance reached its peak—Sound. Movement. Presence.
All directed at one point.
And yet—Durvasa remained—Unshaken.
A subtle shift happened. Not in the sage.
But in the world.
Something—Didn't align.
Because this moment—Should not have failed.
And yet—It did.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Rambha and Menaka slowed.
For the first time—Uncertainty touched them.
Because the man before them—Was not being tempted.
He was—Searching.
And nothing—Short of truth—Would pull him back.
The music lingered.
The last note of their song trembled in the air—Refusing to fade.
Rambha and Menaka slowed.
Their movements stilled.
Something was… off.
They were about to act—To call out.
To force the disturbance—
-Clap!
A single sound. Light. Clear.
Both of them froze.
"...."
"...."
"...."
-Clap! -Clap!
They turned to look who it was.
And saw—A boy.
Sitting casually atop a crocodile.
Legs swinging slightly.
Hands clapping with unfiltered excitement.
A wide smile stretched across his face.
"…That was amazing!"
Devara beamed looking at them.
The crocodile beneath him blinked slowly—As if this was completely normal.
Rambha and Menaka stood stunned.
"...."
"...."
Not because he interrupted.
But because—He shouldn't be here.
This place—This moment—Was not for mortals.
And yet—There he was.
Looking at them like they were performers in a festival.
"…Who…?"
Menaka whispered snapping out of the shock.
But the words felt incomplete.
Because something else—Something stranger—Had already begun.
Their hearts—Fluttered.
A soft, unfamiliar warmth spread within them.
They don't know was it attraction.
They don't know was it desire.
Something gentler. Something instinctive.
'…What is this feeling…?'
Rambha's gaze softened slightly.
"…He's…"
She stopped. Because she couldn't finish it.
Not properly.
Devara tilted his head.
"…Why did you stop?"
He looked genuinely confused.
"I liked the dance."
A pause.
"…Can you do it again?"
The question was simple. Too simple.
For the moment they were in.
Menaka blinked hearing his request.
-Blink!
"…We…"
She hesitated out of words what to say.
Because suddenly—Their purpose felt distant.
Blurry. Unimportant.
Rambha looked at the boy.
Really looked.
At his green eyes. At the calm aura surrounding him. At the way even the air around him felt… peaceful.
'…This child…'
Something clicked. Not fully. But enough.
'…He is not ordinary.'
The butterflies that had surrounded them—Now drifted toward him.
Circling. Drawn.
Even the river—Shifted slightly.
As if acknowledging his presence.
Devara leaned forward slightly—Still sitting on the crocodile.
"…Hello?"
A pause.
"…Are you lost?"
Silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Rambha's lips twitched.
-Twitch!
Menaka covered her mouth slightly.
Because—That question—Was absurd. And yet—Coming from him—It felt natural.
Behind them—Unmoving—Durvasa's mantra continued.
Unbroken.
The air shifted. Not gently. Sharply.
Like something ancient had awakened.
Rambha and Menaka froze.
"...."
"...."
Because the voice they heard after they froze—Was not meant to be heard lightly.
"Were you sent… by Indra?"
Slow. Heavy.
They turned. And there he stood.
Maharishi Durvasa.
Eyes open. Burning.
The river stilled. The wind vanished.
Even the butterflies dropped from the air—As if the world itself bowed to his anger.
The apsaras lowered their heads instantly.
"…Yes, Maharishi…"
No lies. No escape.
Only truth.
Durvasa's gaze hardened.
"To disrupt my tapas?"
Silence.
Which was answer enough.
And in that silence—His anger rose.
Not loud. Not explosive.
But absolute.
"Then—"
He lifted his hand.
Words of a curse forming.
Power gathering. Reality bending.
"—be stripped of—"
"WAIT!"
The word cut through everything.
Sharp. Bright.
Durvasa stopped. Mid-sentence.
"...."
The curse—Paused.
Unfinished.
All eyes turned.
Devara had moved.
From the crocodile's back—To the space between them.
Standing beside the apsaras.
Looking up. Completely unafraid.
Rambha and Menaka panicked.
"No—!"
"Please, move!"
They stepped forward—Trying to pull him back.
"…Maharishi, he has nothing to do with this!"
"He is innocent!"
"Please—spare him!"
Their voices trembled.
Not for themselves. But for him.
Because a curse from Durvasa—Was not something one survived easily.
Devara blinked at their reaction.
"…Why are you panicking?"
The question made it worse.
Durvasa didn't answer them.
He didn't even look at them anymore.
His gaze—Was fixed on the child.
On the boy who stood before his wrath—Without trembling.
Without hesitation.
Without understanding—Or perhaps…
With something deeper.
A flicker passed through Durvasa's eyes.
Recognition.
"...."
Because moments ago—In his tapas—He had seen them.
The Trimurti.
Standing before him.
Their voices echoing as one.
"Everything happens for a reason."
"The answer you seek…"
"…will stand before you when you open your eyes."
And now—Here it was.
Standing.
Looking up at him. Tilting its head slightly.
"…You stopped talking."
Devara said pointing at Sage Durvasa.
"…Were you saying something important?"
Silence.
Heavy. Charged.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Durvasa's brows lifted slightly.
Not in anger. In curiosity.
His voice came—Sharp. But controlled.
"Child."
A pause.
"Do you intend…"
His tone rose slightly—
"…to stop me?"
The question landed.
Not as a threat. But as a test.
Rambha and Menaka held their breath.
"...."
"...."
Because this—Was the turning point.
Devara blinked. Thought for a second.
-Blink!
"...."
Then—
"…Hmm."
A pause.
"…Yes."
Silence.
The river stopped completely.
The world held still.
Because—He didn't say it boldly.
Didn't challenge. Didn't provoke.
He simply answered. As if it was obvious.
Durvasa's eyes narrowed.
Not in rage. But in interest.
"And why?"
The question cut deeper.
Not what—But why.
Devara looked at the two apsaras.
Then back at the sage.
And said—
"Because they danced well."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Rambha and Menaka froze.
Durvasa blinked. Once. Caught off guard by the answer.
-Blink!
"...."
The answer—Was absurd.
Childish. Meaningless.
And yet—It was not false. There was no manipulation.
No fear. No calculation.
Just—Truth. Simple. Unfiltered.
Durvasa stared at him. Longer than necessary.
"...."
Because something—Didn't align.
This child—Was not speaking to save.
He was speaking because—He believed it.
The curse—Still hovered. Unreleased.
Waiting.
And for the first time—Durvasa did not know—Whether to unleash it. Or not.
The curse still lingered—Unspoken.
Power gathered at Durvasa's fingertips.
Waiting.
But his gaze—Was now calm.
Focused. On the boy.
"Tell me, child."
His voice was steady. Measured.
"Why should I not curse them?"
A pause.
"Their intent was to disrupt my tapas."
His eyes flicked briefly toward Rambha and Menaka.
"Even if it is complete… Their act was impure."
The weight of judgment settled.
"They deserve punishment."
Silence followed.
"...."
"...."
"...."
All eyes turned to Devara.
Waiting.
The boy didn't answer immediately.
Instead—He lifted his hand. And touched his chin.
"…Hmm."
A thinking pose. Serious. Almost comically so.
Rambha blinked watching the conversation.
-Blink!
Menaka stared in silence.
"...."
Because this—Was not fear.
This was… consideration.
Devara looked up.
And asked—
"Why curse the arrow…"
A pause.
"…when you can curse the archer?"
The world stopped. Not metaphorically.
Truly.
The river paused mid-flow.
The wind held its breath.
Because the answer—Was simple.
But it struck deep.
Durvasa did not move.
But his eyes—Shifted. Inward. Thinking.
Processing.
Because the boy had not denied wrongdoing.
He had redirected it. To its source.
And that—Was truth.
A moment passed....
Then—Durvasa laughed. Loud. Sudden. Unrestrained.
"HAHAHAHA!"
The sound echoed across the riverbank—Breaking the tension completely.
Rambha and Menaka froze.
"...."
"...."
Because this—Was rarer than a curse.
Durvasa laughing loudly.
He looked at the boy again. This time—With interest.
Genuine.
"Who are you?"
The question carried weight now.
Not suspicion. Curiosity.
Devara straightened slightly.
"Devaratha."
A small pause.
"But everyone calls me Devara."
He pointed casually toward the river.
"I'm the son of Goddess Ganga…"
Then lightly pointed at the ground.
"…and Goddess Bhūdevi."
Silence.
Rambha blinked hearing his mothers name.
"...."
"...."
Menaka's lips parted slightly.
Because—That was not something said lightly.
Nor falsely.
Durvasa didn't react immediately.
But his eyes—Sharpened.
Because he could feel it. The water. The earth.
Both acknowledged him.
'…So this is the answer…'
The echo of the Trimurti returned.
And now—It made sense.
Durvasa stepped closer.
Not threatening. Not overwhelming. But deliberate.
"Devara."
A pause.
Then—
"Do you wish to learn?"
The question hung in the air.
Not an offer. A path.
Rambha and Menaka looked at him.
Because this—Was no small thing.
To be taught by Durvasa—Was to walk through fire.
Devara blinked hearing his question.
-Blink!
Then—
"…Learn what?"
Durvasa's lips curved slightly.
"Everything you can endure."
A pause.
The boy thought again.
Same pose. Hand on chin.
"…Hmm."
Then—He nodded.
-Nod!
"…Okay."
Simple. Accepted.
Durvasa turned.
Without another word. Without ceremony.
He walked away.
The river resumed. The wind returned.
As if nothing had happened.
And yet—Everything had.
Rambha exhaled slowly.
"…We're alive."
Menaka nodded still couldn't believe what had happened.
"…Because of him."
They both looked at Devara. Still sitting on the crocodile.
Swinging his legs.
"…Are you going too?"
Devara blinked hearing her.
"…I guess?"
A pause.
"…After I tell Mothers about it?"
A faint red shimmer appeared before his eyes.
[–DUM!–DUM!–]
Multiple panels unfolded at once.
✅ [Task Completed – "Save the Apsaras"
Prevented curse upon Rambha & Menaka
Reward: +100 Karma Points]
🎶 [Task Completed – "Acknowledge Art"
Appreciated performance with genuine intent
Reward: +35 Karma Points]
⚖️ [Task Completed – "Redirect Judgment"
Provided superior resolution to Sage Durvasa
Reward: +870 Karma Points]
The numbers stacked. The screen pulsed.
⚖️ [Total Karma Updated...
Previous: 820
Gained: +1005
New Balance: 1825 Points]
Devara blinked looking at the amount of karma points.
"…That's a lot."
For a moment—He just stared.
Because—
'…I didn't even try that hard…'
Flashback...
Just minutes ago—He had been bored.
Floating lazily.
Swinging with his crocodile friend.
"…Nothing to do…"
Then—A sound. A song.
Soft. Beautiful.
"…Oh?"
Curiosity pulled him forward.
And the moment he arrived—
[–DUM!–DUM!–]
A task.
Then another. Then another.
One after the other.
Like dominoes falling.
He hadn't even had time to think—Just act.
Naturally. And now—The system flickered again.
🔍 [Analysis: Chain Event Detected
Multiple high-impact actions completed within a short timeframe]
📈 [Efficiency Bonus Applied
+10% Karma Gain Boost[2]]
Devara tilted his head.
"…So doing things together gives more?"
The system remained silent. But the answer was clear.
Devara leaned back slightly.
Looking at the sky.
'…So it's not just big things …It's timing. …And connection.'
A pause.
'…And maybe… luck?'
His lips curved slightly.
The crocodile looked at him.
Unimpressed.
As if saying—
"You walked into chaos and called it curiosity."
Devara patted its head.
"…It worked."
Indra Lok...[3]
Amaravati, Vaijayanta...
The throne hall of Vaijayanta—Usually radiant with effortless authority—Now stood wrapped in tension.
At its center—The Māyā Screen shimmered.
Displaying everything.
Rambha. Menaka.
Their dance. Their failure.
And then—A boy.
Sitting on a crocodile. Clapping.
"…Do it again!"
Confusion rippled across the sabha.
"…A child?"
"Who is he?"
Even the lesser devas leaned forward—Trying to understand.
But two figures did not.
Ganga.
Bhūdevi.
Their eyes widened.
"...."
"...."
Not in confusion. In recognition.
'…Devara…'
Ganga's fingers tightened.
The calm river goddess—For the first time—Looked shaken.
'…Why is he there?'
Bhūdevi leaned forward slightly. Her expression sharpened.
'…That place… is not for him yet.'
Both of them knew—Exactly where he stood.
And who stood before him.
'…Durvasa…'
The name alone was enough.
Both rose slightly from their seats—Ready. To leave. To reach him. To protect him.
But—From the screen—Durvasa's voice thundered.
"Then—"
The curse began.
And both goddesses froze.
Because they were too late. Or so they thought.
"WAIT!"
The word echoed.
Devara stepped forward. And everything changed.
Ganga's breath stopped.
"...."
"...."
Bhūdevi's eyes widened.
'…What are you doing…?'
The scene unfolded.
The plea. The panic of the apsaras.
And then—The answer.
"Why curse the arrow…"
A pause.
"…when you can curse the archer?"
The dev sabha[4] froze.
Not a whisper. Not a movement.
All eyes—Turned. Slowly.
Toward the throne. Toward Indra.
"...."
"...."
"...."
His face—Drained. Color fading. Pride cracking.
Because the words—Were clear.
And the meaning—Unavoidable.
His hand trembled slightly as he pointed at the screen.
"Who is that boy?!"
His voice rose. Sharp. Defensive.
"Why is he meddling in divine matters?! This mortal child—! He should be dealt with—"
He didn't finish.
Because the air—Collapsed. Not physically. But spiritually.
Two auras—Descended. Heavy. Immense. Unforgiving.
The entire hall felt it.
The gods straightened instinctively.
Even Surya's light dimmed slightly.
Because this—Was not ordinary power.
This was—Maternal wrath.
Ganga stood. No longer calm. Her gaze—Cold.
"Say that again."
Bhūdevi stepped forward.
The ground beneath Amaravati itself trembled faintly.
"We would like to hear it clearly."
Indra froze hearing them and feeling their wrath.
"...."
Because now—He understood.
This was no ordinary child might have some connection with them somehow.
And then—
From the screen—
Devara's voice echoed again.
"I'm Devaratha. Everyone calls me Devara."
A pause.
"Son of Goddess Ganga…"
Ganga's eyes softened—Just slightly.
Then—
"…and Goddess Bhūdevi."
The sabha erupted into silence again.
"...."
"...."
"...."
But this time—It was deeper.
Heavier.
Because now—They understood.
Not fully. But enough.
Indra's hand slowly lowered.
His voice—Gone.
Because the child he had just called—
"mortal."
Was son of two goddess and why he didn't know anything about it.
Ganga exhaled slowly. Relief. Hidden beneath control.
-Sigh!
Bhūdevi crossed her arms. Eyes still locked on Indra.
"Your 'solution'…"
A pause.
"…nearly cursed the wrong ones."
Ganga added with a cold tone—
"And threatened the right one."
The words were calm.
But the warning—Was clear.
The Māyā screen flickered.
-Flicker! -Flicker!
Showing Durvasa walking away.
Devara still standing there.
Unaware—Of the storm he had caused. Above.
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(Author note:)
I hope you guys give me your opinion and idea's.
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review!!! And power stone too!!!
Guys it will motivate me more?
[1] Earth
[2] (Temporary)
[3] Heavens ruled under Indra
[4] Royal Court of Devas