Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince

The day began with the sun shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the lush forest. Leaves rustled gently in a light breeze, and the sky was a clear, brilliant blue. As the hours passed, however, the weather shifted.

Dark clouds gradually rolled in, casting ominous shadows over the landscape. The once gentle breeze turned into a strong wind, shaking the branches of the trees violently. The dark clouds consumed the daylight, enveloping the battlefield in a subtle, creeping darkness.

"SOLDIERS, ASSUME DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!" screamed the commander, ordering his troops to form a phalanx-like formation to defend the oncoming enemy.

The startled soldiers quickly composed themselves and scrambled into position, with their commander at the centre. Fierce clashes erupted as the ambush commenced, and the enemies attacked the guard's shield wall.

*CLANG*

*CLASH*

"They have too many soldiers, Senadhipati (Commander)," reported a guard from the shield wall.

"Damn it! We need reinforcements, and the frontline has advanced too far ahead," the commander responded.

"Senadhipati, the army needs you. We will hold them off to allow you to escape!" said a concerned guard.

The commander cursed himself for his incompetence and failure to prepare for the ambush. The situation grew more dire by the second as the guards fell one by one to the enemy onslaught. They were pushed back due to the enemy's superior numbers.

The battle raged on, with casualties mounting on both sides. The enemy's numbers had dwindled to half, while the guards had lost nearly twenty soldiers. The enemy swiftly adjusted their tactics after facing the formidable defence of the guard force.

They broke through the weaker side with relative ease due to their superior numbers. The commander attempted to adjust the formation, but their depleted numbers made it impossible to mount a proper defence against the onslaught.

Taking matters into his own hands, the commander entered the fray like a lion hunting its prey.

*Swish*

*Swish*

With powerful strikes, he swiftly dispatched three enemy soldiers, slicing them in quick succession.

*Thump*

"COME HERE, YOU COWARDS!! " screamed the commander.

Fueled by adrenaline, he continued his rampage, dispatching three more enemies and bathing in their crimson blood.

However, his momentum was short-lived as he was wounded by a stab to the gut. Collapsing to the ground in agony, subsequent attempts on his life were thwarted by the guards protecting their injured leader.

With their numbers dwindling and exhaustion setting in, a sense of impending doom washed over the commander as he watched his guards being cut down in defeat, clutching his bleeding stomach.

' Oh!! Shiva, Is this the end of my journey!! ' thought the commander, watching the battle unfold with a grim look.

"THE BACKLINE IS UNDER ATTACK!" screamed an enemy soldier, alerting everyone on the battlefield.

"Reinforcements?" exclaimed the commander, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes.

" THE PRINCE HAS COME!! " cried out a guard in relief.

"The prince lives?!" muttered the commander, disbelief mingling in his heart as he rushed to confirm.

"How is this possible? The prince definitely died during the battle!" murmured the commander in utter disbelief, watching the prince fight.

'He didn't die? Did I make a mistake? Was my judgement wrong?!' this thought crept into the commander's mind as he began questioning himself for judging the prince's death.

Approaching the backline, the commander witnessed a remarkable sight: a young man, standing tall amidst the chaos, single-handedly holding off the enemy onslaught. Bodies littered the ground behind him, a mark of his prowess as he dispatched enemy soldiers with swift and lethal strikes.

The commander's despair evaporated as he watched the scene unfold before him. Here was their salvation, embodied in the form of this courageous young warrior.

Just moments earlier, the young man had approached the battlefield, carrying the severed head of the enemy's leader. His intent was clear: to strike fear into the hearts of their adversaries and rally his comrades to victory.

With the battle still raging around them, the guards fought valiantly to protect their commander, their determination unwavering despite the overwhelming odds. And now, with the arrival of the prince, their hopes soared higher than ever.

Unsheathing his sword, he drove it directly into the heart of another unsuspecting soldier in the backline. Chilling screams pierced the air as the soldier drew his final breath. Without hesitation, he swiftly charged at another startled soldier, cleaving his face in half with a powerful upper swing. Flesh flew, revealing the exposed brain as blood and fluids gushed forth like a torrent.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" yelled an enemy soldier, his voice tinged with fear and confusion.

"Does it matter? HAHAHA!" the young man replied, seizing another sword from a fallen enemy to wield in each hand.

With unmatched ferocity, he charged at the enemy ranks, deflecting blocks and cutting down soldiers with each swing. He deftly ducked under an incoming slash, countering by driving his sword into the enemy's chin, leaving him drenched in blood.

An enemy soldier spared no time lunging at him with a thrust of their sword directed at his gut.

In a fluid motion, he sidestepped the thrust, impaling the enemy's chest before swiftly beheading him with his other sword. Using the lifeless body as a shield, he kicked it toward another advancing soldier, deflecting his attack.

Time seemed to stand still as the young man fought with unmatched skill and determination, the battlefield echoing with the agonized cries of his fallen foes.

Blood stained the earth, mingling with the stench of death that hung heavy in the air. Exhausted and breathless, the young man stood amidst the carnage, the weight of battle heavy upon him.

'This body is at its limit. Too bad,' he thought as he held up the severed head of the enemy leader and addressed the enemy troops.

"YOUR LEADER IS DEAD! YET YOU DARE TO FIGHT. DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER! I SHALL SPARE YOUR LIVES."

The soldiers gazed at the severed head of their fallen leader, their resolve faltering in the face of such a gruesome sight. The demoralizing effect of witnessing their leader's demise, coupled with the overwhelming display of force by the lone warrior, left them shaken and hesitant to continue the fight.

As reinforcements approached from the distance, the defeat of the enemy forces became increasingly apparent. Grim expressions crossed the faces of the remaining soldiers as they realized the futility of their situation.

'The Kafirs are naive! They always spare the lives of those who surrender,' thought one of the enemy soldiers, contemplating his next move.

Taking a decisive step, he lowered his weapon and raised his hands in surrender, acknowledging defeat in the face of overwhelming odds.

The remaining soldiers followed suit, dropping their weapons to surrender, knowing that the Empire would spare them.

Meanwhile, the young man looked amused at the enemy surrendering so easily. He had earlier heard the guards proclaiming, "The prince has come back to save us," leading him to conclude that the previous owner of this body was indeed a prince.

"SOLDIERS! HEAR ME, THE ENEMY HAS SURRENDERED. WE ARE THE VICTORS!" announced the young man, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

The guards cheered for him, while one of the guards attended to the wounded commander. As the reinforcement cavalry arrived to take the surrendered soldiers as prisoners of war, the young man issued a new order.

"THIS IS AN ORDER FROM THE PRINCE!"

The soldiers stood at attention, awaiting his command with bated breath.

"KILL. ALL. OF. THEM!! DO NOT SPARE A SINGLE ONE!"

The enemy soldiers' faces twisted in horror at the unexpected command. They had surrendered in the hope of being spared, only to face a cruel fate.

"BUT YOU SAID YOU WOULD SPARE US!" screamed one of the enemy soldiers in desperation.

"Be more careful in your next life!" the young man replied coldly.

He never intended to spare the lives of his enemies by leaving loose ends in his battle. It could prove to be fatal later on in his journey.

With swords brandished, the cavalry charged at the unarmed enemy soldiers, impaling them without mercy. The cries of agony from the enemies echoed through the battlefield, serving as a grim symphony to the young man's ears as his own body teetered on the brink of collapse.

He struggled to maintain consciousness, determined to witness the battle's conclusion as the world around him blurred rapidly. In the distance, he glimpsed multiple figures, but his vision was fading fast.

With a single cavalry charge, the reinforcements decimated the remaining enemies, and their victory was secured.

' Hmm, So that's the end, ' thought the young man.

As his eyes lost focus and darkness closed in, he collapsed onto the blood-soaked battlefield.

This moment marked a pivotal event in the Empire's history: the defeat of the Bahmani Sultanate in Bidar by the Vijayanagar Empire. The Battle of Gulbarga's failure was a significant factor, as it paved the way for the Empire's advance towards Bidar.

The tide of the battle turned thanks to the heroic actions of a single individual, who single-handedly thwarted the Sultanate's ambush by killing 21 Bahmani soldiers, including the leader of the ambush force. That individual was none other than Harsha Deva Raya, the youngest prince of the Vijayanagar Empire.

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