Chapter No.2 Clowns and Impostors

[Drawing… Please wait.]

The symbols swirled faster, creating a crescendo of anticipation before culminating in another victorious chime. The screen flashed again, revealing a card with multiple shadows engraved on it.

[Congratulations! You have drawn: Acting Mastery (Master)]

(A/N: Mastery levels are as follows: Basic->Intermediate->Advanced->Master->Grandmaster->Divine)

As the card materialized before me, I stared at it in disbelief. Acting Mastery (Master)? Of all the abilities I could have drawn, this one seemed the most... mundane. After pulling templates from Greek gods and Primordial warriors, this felt like a bummer. But something told me there was more to this than I realized. The shadows etched on the card danced as if alive, subtly hinting at the depth of this skill.

[Card activated: Acting Mastery (Master). Abilities unlocked.]

Immediately, a flood of knowledge surged into my mind—how to deceive, how to embody different personas, and how to manipulate emotions through body language and speech. It wasn't just about pretending to be someone else; it was about becoming someone else entirely. Whether I needed to blend in or convince others, I now had the power to sway minds, deceive enemies, and influence powerful figures in ways I hadn't imagined.

As the last of the power settled within me, the interface chimed again, but this time with an ominous message.

[All draws complete. Reincarnation will now commence.]

"H-Hey wait, I have questions!" As the words flashed before me, panic set in. I fumbled with my thoughts, desperately trying to comprehend what was happening. The exhilarating high from my draws faded, replaced by a surge of anxiety. "Reincarnation? Where am I going? What's going to happen to me?"

[Due to special circumstances the user is allowed to ask two questions before the reincarnation process begins. Please state your questions clearly.]

"Okay! Uhm…" I took a moment to collect my thoughts, feeling the weight of the situation. I had just drawn incredible powers, and now I was about to be reborn into a new world. This was my chance to escape the void of nothingness, but I needed clarity. "Where am I going to be reincarnated? What kind of world is it?"

[The user will be reincarnated in a world inspired by ancient mythology, specifically during the epic tale of the Mahabharata.]

The interface flickered for a moment, and I could feel a surge of energy building around me.

My heart raced at the mention of the Mahabharata. The epic encapsulated the essence of duty, honour, and conflict. I'd read about it in school—its grand heroes and tragic destinies, the lessons woven through the fabric of its narrative. But this was no ordinary story; I would be stepping into a world filled with gods, warriors, and the weight of fate itself.

"Wow," I breathed, trying to wrap my mind around the enormity of it all. "So, I'll be in a world of gods and heroes… but what about my memories? Will I remember everything?"

[User will retain memories from previous life, but adaptations may occur to fit into the new identity.]

A wave of relief washed over me. I would remember my life as Aditya, my struggles, my dreams, and the lessons learned. But the notion of adaptation intrigued me—would I be reborn as a character within the Mahabharata, or would I create my own path? The possibilities stretched before me like an endless horizon.

"Okay, then… for my second question," I continued, my mind racing with potential. And the most important question occurred in my mind, "How can I gain more draws? As in every gacha game in my past life money was a huge factor."

[The user can acquire draws by altering the fates of important characters within the Mahabharata, completing significant quests, and achieving personal milestones. Additionally, unique events tied to the epic's themes may grant bonus draws.]

Excitement surged through me as the information settled in. I could influence destinies? The thought of impacting the course of such a monumental story was exhilarating, and I envisioned myself weaving through the intricate fabric of the Mahabharata, shaping events to my advantage.

"Thank you! This is… incredible," I said, my voice brimming with enthusiasm. "I'll make the most of it!"

[Reincarnation commencing. Please brace yourself.]

Before I could even think properly, a strange feeling overwhelmed me as if I was being swept away by a powerful tide. Colours blurred, sounds faded into a distant hum, and my consciousness began to unravel. It felt like a wild ride through a kaleidoscope of memories, emotions, and the very essence of existence itself.

"G-Goodbye void—"

***

[Third Person's POV]

[Kampilya, South Panchala]

Kampilya—the entire capital city of south Panchala was in a great mood because today the beloved princess Draupadi's Swayamvara was being held. Festivities filled the air with laughter, music, and the aroma of delicious food.

People the success of the event, hoping for a glimpse of the beautiful princess who was the talk of the kingdom. The sun bathed the city in a warm glow, its rays illuminating the colourful banners that fluttered in the gentle breeze. Everyone was abuzz with excitement, and the atmosphere was charged with anticipation.

While currently in the grand royal palace in which the contest was held. Kings, Monarchs and Warriors from all over the Aryavarta gathered to witness the event, each one hoping to win the hand of the exquisite princess. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, mingling with the distant sounds of drums and flutes, creating a symphony of celebration.

"Let's the contest of archery begin!" a voice boomed from the dais, drawing everyone's attention. The royal herald stood proudly, his voice echoing through the grand hall. "The one who can lift and string a Kindhura bow, and fire arrows to pierce the eye of a golden fish only by looking at its reflection in the water. Wins the hand of Princess Draupadi in marriage."

As the herald's voice resonated throughout the hall, the atmosphere crackled with excitement. The challenge was legendary, and every suitor knew the stakes: the winner would gain the hand of Draupadi, the princess whose beauty was matched only by her intelligence and strength.

"I will go first!" A crooked-looking man with a sly grin stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with ambition. His garments were rich, but his demeanour suggested a man who relied on trickery rather than skill. The crowd murmured with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

The man's bravado echoed through the hall as he approached the dais, where the Kindhura bow rested, its intricate carvings glistening in the light. He stretched his arms, showcasing a confidence that belied his appearance.

"Step aside, noble warriors. Today, you will witness true mastery!" he proclaimed, drawing chuckles and eye rolls from the gathered suitors.

The herald gestured for him to begin, his voice booming once more. "Let it be known: Only those with the heart of a warrior and the skill of a master can win the hand of Princess Draupadi!"

The man gripped the bow, muscles tensing as he tried to lift the bow. But the bow didn't even budge, its weight a testament to the legends that surrounded it. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as the man struggled, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The bow remained immovable in his grasp.

"Is this what you call mastery?" a voice called out, dripping with sarcasm. The crowd erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the grand hall. The man's confidence began to falter, and he shot a furious glare at the spectators.

With a haughty laugh, he released the bow, stepping back to the sidelines in defeat. "You just wait! I was merely testing the weight!" he retorted, though his bravado faltered under the weight of the mocking jeers.

The next suitor, a young prince of some small kingdom with a broad chest and piercing eyes, approached with unwavering determination. And tried to lift the bow with one hand only but just like before it remained firmly in place, the weight a testament to the tales woven into its very fabric. The crowd watched in silence, tension building with each failed attempt.

"Perhaps the bow is cursed!" someone from the audience joked, prompting a ripple of laughter.

The prince, undeterred by the chuckles, grunted and adjusted his grip. With all his might, he pulled, his face turning crimson. But the bow refused to even budge an inch. With a frustrated grunt, he finally surrendered, stepping back amid chuckles from the audience.

"Next!" the herald called, gesturing for the next contestant. Each suitor who stepped forward faced the same humiliation as the crowd grew restless, the initial excitement morphing into boredom.

At the forefront of the stone slab on which the bow was placed and the pond in which the golden fish rested, an elevated platform provided a perfect view for the assembly, and amidst the chaos of failed attempts, there was one throne and two separate chairs were arranged on either side of the throne.

On the throne sat a middle-aged-looking man with worry and a hint of contempt etched across his face. His royal attire spoke of authority, yet his furrowed brow hinted at a growing impatience. He was the king of Panchala, King Drupada, and the spectacle unfolding before him was both a source of pride and concern.

"Are these truly the best suitors my daughter could attract?" he murmured, glancing at the man sitting on the left of him. "They can't even lift a bow, How can they protect my beloved daughter, Vasudeva?"

"Patience, Maharaj Drupada," replied the man seated beside King Drupada, an enigmatic smile gracing his lips. He was none other than Lord Krishna, known for his wisdom and playful nature. "The true champion will reveal himself when the time is right. A mere test of strength does not define a warrior's worth."

King Drupada sighed, still glancing skeptically at the assembled suitors. "I fear my daughter's future is at stake, Vasudeva. This contest was meant to showcase the bravest among them, yet all I see are clowns and impostors. I do not wish for her to be united with a fool."

Krishna chuckled softly, his gaze shifting toward the contestants. "Fear not, for it is often the quiet ones who possess hidden strengths. You may yet be surprised by the outcome."

Just then, a commotion erupted from the crowd as a muscular man stood up from his chair with an arrogant smirk, his imposing figure drawing attention. He wore simple yet striking attire, a stark contrast to the opulent garments of the other suitors. The crowd's murmurs shifted to whispers of curiosity as he stepped forward, confidence radiating from his every movement.

"I am Duryodhana, son of Dhritarashtra, and I will show you how this bow is meant to be wielded!" he declared, his voice booming with authority. His presence commanded the attention of everyone in the hall, and the previous mockery faded as anticipation filled the air.

King Drupada raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet wary. "This one appears to have confidence," he remarked to Krishna, who merely smiled knowingly.

Duryodhana approached the Kindhura bow, his muscles taut with determination. The crowd fell silent, eyes locked on him as he grasped the bow with both hands. The polished wood gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting the promise of strength and skill. He crouched slightly, channelling all his energy into the task at hand.

"Let me show you all fools!" Duryodhana shouted as he tried to lift the bow with an explosive burst of strength. His muscles flexed under the strain, veins bulging, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might succeed. The bow creaked ominously, but it held its ground, mocking his efforts as the audience held its breath.

"Come on! You can do it!" someone shouted from the crowd, their voice a blend of encouragement and disbelief. Duryodhana's face turned crimson with effort, his teeth gritted, but the bow remained firmly rooted in its place.

"Just lift it already!" another voice chimed in, laughter lacing their words. The tension in the air was palpable as Duryodhana's bravado began to falter.

But with one final force of strength, Duryodhana managed to lift the bow one inch from the stone slab, a look of shock passing across his face as the crowd erupted in cheers. However, the moment was fleeting. The bow slipped from his grasp, crashing back into place with a resounding thud that echoed throughout the hall. Duryodhana staggered back, frustration etched across his features as laughter erupted anew, mingled with shouts of mockery and disbelief.

"Is this the best the Kauravas can muster?" a voice rang out, and the crowd joined in the jeers. Duryodhana's face flushed with anger, fists clenching as he glared at the crowd, the earlier cheers now feeling like daggers aimed at his pride.

"I will not be humiliated here!" he roared, his anger radiating like heat from a flame. The laughter subsided, and the crowd stepped back, taken aback by his fierce declaration. "Karna! My friend, come forth!"

At Duryodhana's call, a tall figure emerged from the crowd, his presence immediately commanding respect. Karna, the son of a charioteer, stood before the assembly with an air of confidence that radiated strength and charisma. His armour glinted in the sunlight, accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular build. The whispers in the crowd turned into murmurs of curiosity and admiration.

"Let me show you how it's done," Karna said, a smirk playing on his lips as he approached the dais. His gaze was steady, and he exuded an air of assurance that was palpable.

Duryodhana stepped aside a mix of relief and desperation in his eyes. "You can do it, Karna! Show them what you're made of!"

Karna nodded, focusing on the Kindhura bow, his brow furrowed in concentration. He knelt down, studying the bow with an intensity that drew the attention of everyone in the hall, including King Drupada and Krishna.

"Remember," Krishna whispered to Drupada, his tone playful yet profound, "the heart of a warrior lies not just in strength, but in skill and precision."

As Karna positioned himself, the audience held its breath, the festive atmosphere momentarily eclipsed by a palpable tension. He grasped the bow, its weight familiar and welcoming in his hands. With a swift, fluid motion, he lifted it effortlessly, showcasing a mastery that sent ripples of awe through the spectators.

"He's actually lifting it!" someone exclaimed, astonishment clear in their voice. The crowd leaned in, eager to witness the spectacle unfold.

With a graceful movement, Karna strung the bow, his muscles coiling like a tightly wound spring. The kind of skill displayed in his stance was reminiscent of a tiger poised to pounce, drawing admiration from all who watched.

"Look at him!" Duryodhana exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "This is what a true warrior looks like!"

Karna turned his gaze toward the pond, where the golden fish glimmered beneath the water's surface, reflecting the sunlight like a treasure. His focus sharpened, the distractions of the crowd fading away as he steadied his breath.

With a swift flick of his wrist, he drew an arrow from his quiver, nocking it against the bowstring. The sound resonated through the hall, a crisp snap that echoed like a challenge. The tension mounted as Karna raised the bow, his eyes narrowing as he aimed solely at the fish's reflection.

"Now!" he whispered to himself, channelling all his energy into the shot.

.

..

...

[To Be Continue]

***

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