Part 3

Kuber, still in shock from the unexpected turn of events, slowly got to his feet. With hesitant steps, he moved closer to the figure, his eyes searching for any sign of life. As the lightning cracked once more, the flash revealed the full extent of the man's condition. His face, covered in deep, bloody wounds, was barely visible beneath the dark cloak. The fabric was soaked in blood, and the man's breathing was shallow, labored—his eyes were barely open, struggling to stay conscious.

The storm was fast approaching, its ominous presence creeping closer with every passing second. Despite the thick, expensive cloak wrapped around him, Kuber could feel the chill seeping into his bones, a reminder of how close the storm really was.

Kuber's heart raced as he looked up at the sky, knowing they had little time before the storm broke. But his focus was drawn back to the man before him, who was clearly in a state of severe distress. Without hesitation, Kuber rushed forward, determined to help. He extended his forearm to offer support, ready to lift the injured man and take him somewhere safe.

However, as soon as his hands made contact with the man's body, something unexpected happened. The moment Kuber touched him, the injured figure surged with strength, pushing him away with surprising force. Kuber stumbled back, shocked and confused, the air between them thick with tension. The man's eyes, though half-closed, flickered with something that Kuber couldn't quite place—a mix of fear, pain, and perhaps...warning.

"Your Highness!" Angad called out urgently, rushing forward to protect Kuber. This was the first time in the history of their peaceful country that someone had attacked another, and Angad's instincts kicked in. Shocked and confused by the sudden aggression, Kuber froze, unsure of how to react. Angad, ready to defend the prince at all costs, took a step closer to the man.

But just as Angad was about to act, Kuber's voice rang out, clear and firm. "Stop! Don't fight him!"

Angad hesitated, his muscles still coiled with the readiness to strike. "But he hurt you, Your Highness!" Angad protested, his voice full of concern and anger.

Kuber, despite the fear gnawing at him, shook his head. "Let it be! He seems injured. Let's first take care of that." His words were calm, but there was a quiet determination in his voice.

Angad looked at Kuber for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. Though he was well-trained in the art of combat, he was from Stambha, a place where compassion and care had always been taught before anything else. His duty to protect the prince came first, but he knew Kuber's heart was kind, and in this moment, it seemed right to follow his wishes.

Kuber, after a deep breath, stood up, his legs still slightly unsteady from the shock of the encounter. He didn't rush this time, approaching the man slowly and cautiously, aware that any sudden movement might cause him to panic again. The storm was approaching fast, but his focus remained entirely on the injured figure before him.

"Why are you resisting?" Kuber asked gently, his voice soft and coaxing. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you. Trust me." He spoke with the kind of sincerity that came from deep within, hoping the man would sense his genuine intentions.

The man's body trembled slightly, his energy clearly depleted. His eyes fluttered, but he no longer resisted. Whether from exhaustion or the weight of his injuries, he simply couldn't fight back. As Kuber moved closer, the man's eyelids began to close, his body surrendering to the overwhelming fatigue. He allowed Kuber to approach without any further struggle, his breath shallow and labored.

Kuber reached out carefully, knowing that any sudden movements could startle the man. But, as he touched the injured figure's shoulder, there was no more resistance. 

Kuber gently placed his hand on the injured man's shoulder to help support him, his grip steady but careful. Angad stepped in to assist, his strong arms steadying the man as they walked together. 

The wind howled around them, its intensity growing with every passing moment. The storm had finally arrived, and it was not a gentle one. It came with fury, a wild force that whipped at their faces, making it almost impossible to stand upright.

Despite the harsh conditions, the group pressed on, determined to get the man to safety. Angad and Kuber struggled against the wind, their bodies bracing against the storm's strength as they held the man steady between them. Ridhi and Sita, with their quick reflexes and calm determination, led the way, navigating the treacherous path.

The storm was relentless, its power increasing by the minute. It felt as though the very air itself was alive, swirling and crashing around them with a force they could hardly withstand. 

But somehow, after what seemed like an eternity of battling the wind and cold, they finally reached the royal mansion.

The intensity of the storm was so fierce that even the soldiers on duty, who were usually well-prepared for anything, had to retreat indoors. The cold and wind were unbearable, and the outer room, built specifically for emergencies like this, had become their sanctuary. Inside, the soldiers huddled together, warming themselves with cups of hot herbal tea, trying to shake off the chill that had crept into their bones.

"Are you not concerned about His Highness? He went for a walk," a junior soldier asked, his voice laced with worry as he glanced toward the storm battering against the mansion's walls.

The senior soldier, Nakshatra, calmly sipped his hot herbal tea, "You must have heard the popular saying in our country: 'No one can stop the storm and night walk of the prince.'" He looked at the junior soldier, "What do you think that means?"

The junior soldier blinked in confusion, but Nakshatra continued, "There are emergency wooden rooms placed at regular intervals in the royal palace. His Highness has never been one to let a little storm stop him. He's more than capable of finding shelter when he needs it." He shrugged nonchalantly. "He wouldn't be in danger, unless, of course, he found an animal." 

Just as he finished speaking, some of the other soldiers, who had been standing by the window, suddenly peered outside, their faces going tense with sudden realization.

"Who's that? Who's that?" they whispered in hushed voices, 

One of them leaned closer to the window, squinting through the rain and wind. After a moment, his face lit up with recognition. "That's His Highness's neck jewelry shining!"

Sure enough, they could make out the figure of Kuber, his gleaming jewelry reflecting the flashes of lightning. But there was something strange—he was not alone. "He's bringing someone with him," the soldier muttered, his voice filled with curiosity. "Seems like he did find an animal after all."

Nakshatra, who had been listening quietly, stood up without a word. His gaze had already shifted to the window, and now, seeing the prince's unmistakable figure in the storm, he knew what needed to be done. "Prepare yourselves," he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. Without a moment's hesitation, he headed for the door.

The other soldiers, who had been in the middle of their tea, immediately stood up and followed him.

The weight of the unconscious man seemed to grow with every step. Kuber's breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles aching from the strain. "I can't do this anymore..." he whispered, his voice laced with exhaustion and pain. His grip on the man slackened slightly, the burden of carrying him growing too much to bear. The man's heavy blood-soaked cloak made it even more difficult for Kuber to support him, and the prince's own body was protesting.

Angad, who was equally worn out, struggled beside him. "Just a little more, Your Highness," he urged, though his voice was tight with fatigue. The two of them were barely holding onto the injured man, their steps slow and unsteady. 

Ridhi and Sita, seeing their prince's struggle, rushed forward to help, offering their support from behind the man. Together, they slowly made their way forward, but the weight of the situation—and the man—was becoming unbearable.

It was then that the soldiers spotted them, and Kuber's heart lightened as he saw them rushing to their aid. Relief washed over him. "Take him to the room beside mine," Kuber ordered,

Everyone in Stambha, the land of peace and innocence, believed in the goodness of all things. No one questioned the appearance of the mysterious man—they simply acted to help. All except Nakshatra.

As the soldiers laid the unconscious man on Kuber's bed, Nakshatra's sharp eyes caught something unusual—a small sword-like weapon hanging from the man's waist. His hand shot out, quick as lightning, snatching the weapon away and tucking it into his belt. 

After a few hours, the storm finally began to die down, and once the winds had settled, the royal doctor was called—not for the man, but for Kuber. The prince winced as he sat down, his back aching from the unnatural weight he'd carried through the storm.

After treating Kuber's back with care and applying soothing ointments, the doctor turned his attention to the injured man. He examined him thoroughly, noting the various injuries that marred the stranger's body. "He's not in any immediate danger," the royal doctor said, his tone measured. "Just some cuts and bruises, likely from fighting a predator." He glanced at the prince. "He'll recover quickly with the right medicines."

"A predator?" Ridhi and Sita exchanged a glance, their eyes full of concern as they offered Kuber a cup of herbal tea.

The royal doctor nodded. "Yes. But I doubt this man is from the martial arts world." His eyes lingered on the prince, his expression unreadable. 

The mention of the martial arts world sent a chill down Kuber's spine. He felt a wave of dread wash over him as the realization settled in. What had I done? Kuber's thoughts spiraled, his heart heavy with fear. All his life, he had worked to spread peace and love, worshiping the gods, living in devotion, and avoiding any wrongdoings. He had devoted himself to purity, to the ideals of his country. And yet, here he was, helping a man who might be from the very world he had worked so hard to avoid.

He stared at the doctor, his face frozen in shock and fear. Ridhi, Sita, and Angad stood around him, their expressions mirroring his own sense of dread. No one spoke. The air in the room felt heavy, the uncertainty pressing down on them all. The prince had unknowingly crossed a line, and none of them knew where it would lead.

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