Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince

*BOOM*

*BOOM*

The long passage exploded into a sea of flames. The walls were painted red as the fort shook under the tremor of the explosions. The flames rose high and wide, clutching onto the dead bodies of the Mughals soldiers.

All the soldiers that entered the passage were torn apart due to the explosion. The passage walls were the canvas of the Mughal's intestines and organs. The surviving soldiers were burnt to a crisp from the rising flames due to the oil in the passage.

Shield and armor didn't matter as the flames melted it and the soldiers screamed in agony as molten iron seeped into their bodies, killing them slowly and painfully.

The debris from the passage flew out from both sides of the passage. The Portcullis blocked the ones near the Marathas but unfortunately for the Mughals, soldiers in the front were struck by the debris and some died while others were gravely injured.

Maratha soldiers stood far from the Portcullis to avoid any debris. The passage was filled with flames; it became a sturdy wall for the Marathas, as the Mughals couldn't cross it without self-immolating themselves.

The Portcullis took extensive damage and the heat was also slowly melting it. Once the flames subside, they could be easily broken by the Mughals.

"Wha—" exclaimed Usman, his mouth open with surprise. Half his unit was just killed by a big explosion in the passage.

The gates of Karnavati were made in a large passage, each gate having considerable space in between them. The whole passage was now in flames and most of the soldiers that entered the passages were dead. The smell of burnt human flesh was filling the air.

It made him sick; it was a very potent and foul smell.

Even after multiple chains of explosions, the passage didn't collapse. It was a well-made structure to stand the test of time. Shivaji watched the flames rise in the passage with a grim expression.

The flames were slowly subduing. It means that the swarming of Mughals would start soon.

"Prepare the barricades. We will fight the bastards at the Plaza." He roared.

The spearman and heavy infantry moved in the meantime to set up the barricades and their formation inside the city plaza. They were at a disadvantage yet they trusted the man in front of them.

Karnavati was slowly crumbling down. The Maratha soldiers were dwindling down less than half the number of soldiers in the process.

Askar was taken aback by the thunderous explosion near the passages. He could hear loud screams of agony from the passage. Half of the Vanguard was surely wiped out in that explosion. Askar grimaced as he watched the flames spit out of the passage.

He could see the expression of Usman from afar. It wasn't looking good. He had to intervene directly or else the momentum would go to the Marathas, which was the last thing he needed in the battle.

'That bastard!! Where did he even come from? Since when did the Marathas have this kind of commander?'

he cursed.

Askar had to acknowledge Shivaji; the man had turned the tides not once but twice on him so far. He was dangerous; he proved to be more dangerous than Askar had initially thought.

'Fuck!! I need to take charge.'

"EVERYONE FOLLOW ME." He roared as he charged towards the gate.

The backline troops began to move along with Askar towards the Vanguard to reinforce. Askar noticed that the numbers of the Marathas were very low since they suffered a lot of casualties like the Mughals.

They wouldn't be able to defend against them for a long time.

The walls were being swarmed by the Mughals as the soldiers of the capital were getting slaughtered.

*BOOM*

*BOOM*

Another chain explosion went along both sides of the fort walls. Hundreds of soldiers were yet again dead to the explosions of the fuse grenades. It was the last fuse grenade in the arsenal of the Marathas.

They had exhausted every bit of their supplies in the battle and inflicted the most amount of damage to the Mughals.

The plaza was far away from the walls so the Mughals on top couldn't target the remaining force of the Marathas in the plaza from the walls. The citizens were evacuated to the other side as Shivaji had anticipated the breach last night itself.

All the remaining Maratha forces gathered at the Plaza for their last stand in the battle to protect their capital city. There were less than half of them alive at this point.

Askar joined the Vanguard quickly, taking the reins of charge from Usman, who was panicking a lot from the sudden explosion situation.

"Usman, snap out of it." Askar slapped him tightly. "Focus on the battle."

This slap brought him back to reality.

Askar unsheathed his sword and joined the force along with the others to fight. He wanted to meet the brat that was responsible for this mess and settle the score once and for all.

The flames slowly subsidized before his eyes. His focus was on the man that was behind that iron gate. The man who inflicted this damage on him.

The young man who dared to go against him.

"CHARGE," Askar roared as the flames were near the ground.

All the Mughal soldiers charged with a war cry.

"ALLAH HU AKBAR"

"ALLAH HU AKBAR"

"ALLAH HU AKBAR"

The Portcullis was half melted and the explosions had made it so weak. It broke down with a single smack from the battering ram.

*THUD*

The iron portcullis fell down. The city was finally in their view. The vast capital of the Maratha, the center of the archenemy, Karnavati.

The impregnable fortress of Karnavati was finally open.

They brandished their weapons and, with a thunderous roar, charged right into the city. It was a barricade from all sides and they were led towards the Plaza.

Askar led the charge towards the plaza.

'Where is that bastard?'

His gaze darted around as the plaza came into view.

In front of the Plaza, there were multiple barricades present and the Marathas pointed their weapons at them, ready to fight till death to protect their city.

Askar's gaze fell upon a young man standing in front. His black hair and dark eyes and the scars on his appearance. He emitted an air of authority, a regal aura befitting of a grand ruler. He held his head high, gazing down at him.

It was the final stand of Shivaji.

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