Chapter 107: What can't be wagered?
Hayagriva was overjoyed. He nearly laughed aloud in exhilaration.
The dice in his hands were no ordinary ones. Carved from his own bones by the legendary Mayasura, architect of the Asuras, they were imbued with a power that defied fate itself. As long as they remained in his grasp, he could roll any number he desired.
And now, Indra, the mighty King of Svarga, was willing to stake what devas had left on these very dice.
How courageous.
"Indra..." Hayagriva murmured, his fingers gliding over the dice's smooth surface. His blue mane rippled like a storm, and his eyes gleamed with cold, calculated malice as they locked onto the god before him.
The King of Svarga stood tall, radiating effortless confidence, but Hayagriva had already made up his mind.
I will break him.
Indra would fall. He would be reduced to nothing more than a pawn, a mere slave who takes care of his gardens. Let's see if this so-called king could still hold his head high after being trampled beneath his hooves.
Hayagriva's lips curled into a sneer.
"Then let's play."
"Good," Indra said smoothly. A slow smile curled across his lips as he folded his hands beneath his chin, his golden eyes gleaming with challenge. "But I want to raise the stakes."
"Oh?" Hayagriva smirked, intrigued. "And what exactly do you wish to add?"
Indra's gaze sharpened, his voice low and commanding. "Winning little by little is too slow. Let's decide everything in a single round."
The air crackled with tension.
"I," Indra continued, "will wager all the Devas."
Gasps echoed across the heavens.
"If I lose," Indra declared, his voice resonating like rolling thunder, "then every last Deva shall be yours, bound to serve you for eternity in this great calamity."
He leaned forward, golden light flickering around him like a raging storm.
"But if I win…" His gaze darkened. "What will you wager, Hayagriva?"
The name struck the cosmos like a war drum.
Hayagriva. Hayagriva. Hayagriva!
Indra's voice carried across the starry expanse, shaking the very fabric of existence. The celestial bodies trembled, the heavens split with a terrible groan, and across the vastness of space, volcanoes erupted in cascading fury—an omen, as if the universe itself recoiled at the weight of this gamble.
The Devas stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief.
What do we do?!
If Indra lost, every last one of them would be condemned to servitude—slaves to the Hayagriva.
In Satyaloka,
Upon the sacred lotus, Brahma's expression tightened, his serene composure disrupted by the weight of what he was witnessing. His countless faces turned toward the sky where Svarga and the human world met, his wise eyes flickering with uncertainty. He stroked his long, snow-white beard, his fingers tightening ever so slightly.
"Indra is risking too much," he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. There was no divine pronouncement, no cosmic certainty, only the quiet worry of a father watching his son play a game with stakes too high.
Beside him, Saraswati let out a breath, shaking her head. Her white robes shimmered, the golden ornaments at her wrists catching the light as she folded her arms. Her eyes, dark and sharp, did not hold the same doubt.
"He's Indra," she said simply. "His strategies have never failed before. Not against Hiranyaksha, not against Hiranyakashipu. And certainly not against some arrogant Asura with another boon up his sleeve."
Brahma turned toward her, his brows lifting slightly. "You think this is wise?"
Saraswati exhaled, tilting her head as she looked back toward the battlefield. "I think it's necessary. Indra isn't some reckless gambler throwing dice for sport, he's been leading the Devas into war since the beginning of time. He's won every time. Because he doesn't play fair." She gave Brahma a pointed look. "You know this. I know this. And Hayagriva? He's about to find out."
Brahma hummed, his fingers still brushing his beard, his thoughts still tangled. "Even the greatest warrior is one mistake away from ruin."
"And Indra doesn't make mistakes." Her voice was firm, steady. She didn't flinch under his gaze. "He's not just betting on the dice, Nath, he's betting on himself. And when has he ever lost to an Asura King?"
Brahma looked at her for a long moment before turning his eyes back to the battlefield. His silence was not agreement, but neither was it outright denial.
Elsewhere, in Satyaloka, Rishi Brihaspati was far less composed. The Guru of the Devas paced in front of a swirling celestial mirror, his golden robes rustling with each hurried step. His face was tight with worry, his fingers flicking through the air as though trying to weave an unseen prayer.
"This is madness," he muttered under his breath. "Indra fights with lightning and Vajra, not with fate and numbers. This is a different kind of battlefield, and Hayagriva has already deceived Surya before." His jaw clenched. "If this wager truly rests on a single throw… the Devas are doomed."
The game had begun. The pieces were in motion. And while Saraswati believed in Indra's unshakable will, Brahma remained still, watching, wondering if, for the first time, the King of Svarga had finally overplayed his hand.
On Mount Kailash…
Far away, seated upon the peak of Kailash, Vishnu observed the unfolding events with a pensive gaze. His Sudarshana Chakra spun idly on his fingertip, a silent reminder of his ever-watchful presence.
"Has Indra's arrogance returned?" he murmured, concern flickering in his voice.
Devi Lakshmi, ever graceful, reached out and gently clasped her husband's hand. The tension in his body did not ease.
Not far from them, Shiva sat still, his Trishul stood by his side. His expression was unreadable, his deep eyes reflecting the countless figures gathered in the starry expanse.
And yet, even he remained silent.
The game had begun.
Asura's eyes widened as he stared at Indra, searching his expression.
"You think I wouldn't dare?" Indra's voice was sharp, unwavering.
Hayagriva chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk. "Since you want to gamble, let's settle this in one round."
He rolled the dice between his fingers, casting a sidelong glance at Indra. His voice was slow, deliberate. "Then I'll wager Svarga itself."
"Not enough." Indra's smile remained, but his tone was resolute, his words ringing with finality.
Hayagriva's gaze turned cold. His mane billowed like a storm, his blue body emanating an abyssal presence—one that threatened to swallow everything.
"Then I'll raise the stakes, two-thirds of the land under my rule."
The air shifted.
The gathered Asura generals—Viprachitti, Shumbha, Puloman, and countless others—stiffened. Their eyes widened in shock as they turned to face Hayagriva, disbelief etched into their faces.
Two-thirds of the land! This madman was betting on everything!
Indra let out a hearty laugh, straightening his posture. He placed one hand on his knee while the other waved through the air.
"Impressive! As expected of the King of Asuras. Today, I, Indra, acknowledge you!"
The sky hung heavy with storm clouds, the scent of rain thick in the air. The battlefield had fallen silent. Not a single blade clashed, not a single war horn blew. Instead, at the center of the vast field, a board of gold and obsidian stretched between two seated figures.
Indra leaned forward, fingers resting lightly on the polished dice. Across from him, Hayagriva sat with arms folded, his crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"This game will decide the tide of battle," Indra said. "Chausar, a contest of skill, luck, and wit."
Hayagriva scoffed. "Luck, is it?" He glanced at the pieces arranged before them—miniature warriors, sculpted in the likeness of their armies. "And the rules?"
Indra smirked. "You'll learn as we play."
Without another word, he rolled. The dice tumbled across the board and landed on a three. No movement. Indra withdrew his hand.
Hayagriva's lips curled into a smirk. "Already hesitating?"
He scooped up the dice and rolled a six.
The asura warriors roared in approval as one of Hayagriva's pieces stepped onto the board. A six meant another turn. He rolled again—a four. His piece advanced further.
Indra remained still, watching. He took the dice and cast them. A five. Still not enough.
Hayagriva chuckled, rolling once more. A two. His piece crept forward, inching toward the center of the board. The asura ranks cheered.
Indra rolled again—six.
The deva warriors held their breath. Indra calmly placed his piece onto the board. Then, without hesitation, he rolled again. Six.
The tension in the air shifted. Hayagriva's smile faded slightly. Indra rolled a third time—five. His piece advanced, closing the distance toward Hayagriva's lead piece.
The asura's eyes flickered with unease. He quickly took his turn—three. His piece was getting closer to a safe zone, but it wasn't there yet.
Indra rolled again. Five.
A sharp crack echoed across the battlefield as his piece landed directly on Hayagriva's. The board trembled. The deva warriors erupted in cheers.
Indra met Hayagriva's eyes, his voice like rolling thunder.
"Capture."
He lifted Hayagriva's piece and placed it back in the starting position.
Viprachitti slammed a fist into the ground. "This is treachery!"
Shumbha's eyes burned with fury. "He tricked our king!"
Puloman shot to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger. "How dare you, Indra?!"
Hayagriva's jaw clenched, his fists tightening. His warriors fell silent, watching as his piece was sent back to the start. To re-enter the game, he would need another six—but Indra had already seized the advantage.
Surya smirked, arms crossed, golden armor gleaming. "It seems Hayagriva's gambling skills aren't as sharp as his blade."
Agni chuckled, flames flickering at his fingertips. "It looks like you can't outmatch the King of Svarga."
"Yes, that's right!" Vayu grinned.
Tch!
Hayagriva exhaled slowly, his gaze sharpening.
"Fine," he thought. "Let's see how long that smugness lasts."
He rolled again. Would fate favor the Devas or the Asuras?
The game was only beginning.
---
Chapter 108 Cheat the Cheaters
"You shall lose."
Hayagriva's cold smile stretched across his face as he locked eyes with Indra. Moving with deliberate slowness, he rolled the dice, letting them tumble lazily from his fingertips.
Clatter!
The dice landed—five!
In an instant, Hayagriva surged forward.
The game intensified as the two rivals continued rolling, moving their pieces across the board with calculated precision. The devas and asuras watched in breathless anticipation, the tension suffocating even for celestial beings who rarely knew fear.
Six!
"I'll surpass you in the next move," Hayagriva sneered, seizing his piece and stepping forward, every motion precise and deliberate. His eyes gleamed as he closed the distance, victory within reach—
Snap!
His blue-skinned arm was suddenly knocked aside, his piece was sent tumbling back onto the board.
"Wait!" he barked.
Indra, still seated, merely smirked. "Your roll was too high. You needed an exact number to land safely. Since you overshot, you stay where you are."
With a flick of his wrist, Indra gestured. Hayagriva's piece, which had barely advanced, remained frozen in place.
"Besides," Indra continued, voice smooth as silk, "I rolled exactly what I needed."
A chuckle escaped him as he moved his piece forward, landing directly on Hayagriva's.
Hahaha!
The devas erupted into laughter as Hayagriva's piece was unceremoniously sent back to the start.
Meanwhile, the asuras clenched their fists, their expressions darkening with barely contained fury. Their bodies trembled as though they might erupt at any moment.
"You should have said that earlier!" Hayagriva growled, teeth grinding.
Indra leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, golden eyes gleaming with amusement, sharp, cutting.
"Explain?" His voice dripped with mockery.
"When Parvati first played this game with Shiva, did he ever explain the rules to her?" His smirk deepened. "Since when did the Asura King ever follow the rules?"
A deadly silence filled the air.
Hayagriva's expression turned glacial. His blue mane rippled like fire, and an overwhelming aura burst from his body.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Thunder roared, shaking the heavens.
Indra's gaze was sharp as steel, his golden eyes locking onto Hayagriva's cold, equine glare. In their stare-down, it was as if a thousand bolts of lightning clashed, their intensity radiating across the battlefield. Their expressions remained unreadable, but the bloodlust between them surged like a raging tide, ready to consume everything in its path.
All around them, tension crackled in the air. Divine weapons materialized in the hands of the devas, while the asuras clenched their fists, poised to strike at a moment's notice.
"You dare make a fool of me?!"
Hayagriva's voice was a guttural growl, his teeth grinding in fury as he glared at Indra.
This bastard—! How dare he! How cunning! How vile!
Indra simply smirked, amusement flickering in his golden eyes.
"Did I deceive you?" He tilted his head, voice mocking. "Hmph! No, I was just playing you."
His grin faded, his voice dropping to a slow, deliberate murmur.
"And besides… didn't you try to cheat me first?"
Before the words had even fully left his lips—
WHOOSH!
Indra's arm shot forward, fingers unfurling like a raging inferno. In one swift motion, he seized the dice from the board, gripping them tightly in his palm before slamming them down.
BOOM!
A blinding flash of lightning erupted upon impact.
The board groaned under the force, fracturing like a spider's web, cracks spreading wildly, threatening to shatter completely. The dice, no longer whole, split apart at the center of the board.
And the Maya, which was alluding to the true form of dice, also broke along with it.
Pale, skeletal bones lay exposed.
The air thickened.
A single moment of silence, stretching unbearably long.
Then—
Indra reached down, plucked the bones from the wreckage, and rose to his full height. His gaze bore into Hayagriva like a hammer upon an anvil.
"You really thought I wouldn't notice?"
His voice was low, laced with quiet fury. He lifted the bones for all to see.
"You tried to cheat me… with dice carved from your ribs?"
His lips curled in disdain.
"How desperate you must be, Hayagriva."
Hayagriva's nostrils flared, his mane rippling like an untamed storm. The asuras behind him seethed in silent fury, their auras darkening.
Indra stepped forward.
"Hayagriva!"
His voice echoed through the heavens, a thunderous decree shaking the cosmos.
"I declare—"
Lightning carved through the sky, the very stars trembling as Indra's voice filled the three worlds.
"Your conquest of Svarga is not by Dharma!"
His words resounded through existence, shaking the very fabric of reality.
"This bet is null and void!"
The proclamation sent ripples through existence itself.
From the endless expanse of the akash, thick black clouds churned into being, spreading like ink across the sky. Lightning howled within them, serpentine and unrelenting, like a thousand Nagas thrashing in the storm.
The very Tri loka shuddered beneath the weight of his words.
Mandala Mountain trembled, its foundations groaning under divine wrath. The sacred peak quaked as if the cosmic churn had begun anew, sending countless ripples through the vast void.
And then—
A shift.
A power long denied suddenly surged through the devas' veins.
One by one, their eyes widened in realization.
Agni's flames blazed higher, his voice crackling with renewed vigor. "Our strength… it has returned!"
Surya's radiance flared, golden and blinding. "Yes! The power of Svarga flows within us once more!"
Vayu's presence swept through the heavens like a roaring tempest. "We are the rightful rulers of the svarga!"
A triumphant roar erupted from the devas, their divine essence blazing anew, their very presence setting the skies aflame.
The tides of battle had turned.
And at the center of it all stood Indra, King of the Devas, his gaze locked onto the defeated Hayagriva—his eyes alight with storm and judgment.
…
The devas erupted in cheers, their voices ringing with disbelief and exhilaration.
Meanwhile, the asura generals behind Hayagriva staggered, their expressions twisting in horror. A dreadful realization settled upon them—they could feel it. A portion of the divine power they had seized from Svarga was vanishing.
Viprachitti staggered, his eyes widening in horror. "My celestial power… It's disappearing!"
Puloman snarled, fury twisting his features. "Damn it! We have to crush them and reclaim what's ours!"
Shumbha roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "Attack! Take back our strength!"
The asuras let out a collective roar, their war cries reverberating like a thunderstorm tearing through the battlefield.
Indra, however, frowned slightly. Something felt off.
Um?
His Svarga's power… had not returned.
Across the battlefield, Hayagriva finally rose to his feet, his blue mane rippling like waves of fire. His piercing gaze locked onto Indra, and in an instant, he let out a terrifying, guttural roar.
"So what if you've restored a fraction of their power?!" he sneered, his voice like a tempest.
A deep, mocking laugh rumbled from his throat, shaking the air.
"This is the Svarga they abandoned! You weren't its king back then, and your brother forsook it. I seized it—fairly, honestly! The vacant throne of Svarga became mine!"
His eyes gleamed with unyielding arrogance as he pointed a clawed finger at Indra.
"This was never part of your so-called gamble! Fight! Conquer! Take what you can by force! That is the dharma of the Kshatriyas! Unless you defeat me, Indra, you have no claim over the power of Svarga!"
His voice rose to a furious crescendo.
"I am still the Lord of Svarga! Now, die!"
With a roar that split the heavens, Hayagriva swung his arm.
BOOM!
A colossal black battle axe materialized in his grip, its aura surging with boundless malice. The weapon's edge gleamed with a deadly brilliance, as cold as the moonlit waters of the Ganges. The divine radiance pouring from it seemed to carry the combined force of asuras, as though the very heavens and earth had fused into a single, devastating strike.
He swung the axe.
The sky howled.
The stars trembled.
A golden light flared.
BOOM!
Two radiant golden arms shot up, crossing high above Indra's head. The impact was cataclysmic, shaking the cosmos itself. The force of the collision sent shockwaves rippling outward, distorting the fabric of space.
Indra's arms shone like molten gold, exuding an overwhelming power. His blood pulsed with the fury of the Ganges, his muscles coiling and twisting like the body of a great naga. His golden skin radiated divine brilliance, illuminating the battlefield in an ethereal glow.
And then—
CRACK!
The mighty battle axe, forged by Mayasura himself, splintered.
In an instant, cracks spread across its surface like a shattered mirror.
BOOM!
It exploded.
Shards of divine metal burst outward, streaking across the battlefield like meteorites. But even before they could reach the ground, the fragments disintegrated, crumbling into cosmic dust that scattered across the sky in a dazzling golden drizzle.
The battlefield fell silent.
Hayagriva stood frozen, his face drained of all color. His breath hitched as he stared in disbelief.
The golden dust fell upon his head like divine ashes, and reflected in his wide, horrified eyes—
Indra's smile.
Indra was grinning. A slow, knowing smirk stretched across his lips, his amusement unmistakable.
He tilted his head slightly, rolling his shoulders with ease.
Crack!
He twisted his neck, flexing his arms.
"Ahhh…" he sighed contentedly.
"This blessing is indeed useful."
---
(A.N.: The line in italic is a nod to a lesser-known story that doesn't show up in the main Puranas, but pops up in some regional traditions, especially in certain Tantric texts from the Khemraj editions and Kashmiri Shaivism. In that version, Parvati beats Shiva at chausar, which is really about how Shakti (divine feminine energy) can outplay even Shiva when it comes to cosmic games and illusion.)
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