Time passed, and with the conclusion of the semi-finals, it was soon time for the finals.

After a momentary rest, the match soon got underway.

The bonfires roared, casting long, dancing shadows across the ice. The Arena of Fangs was no longer just a fighting pit; it was a cauldron of noise and bloodlust.

"The Final Match!" The Fox-kin announcer screamed, his voice cracking with strain.

"The Challenger from the Border... LEO!"

The crowd stomped their feet. The vibration shook the icicles from the arena walls.

"Versus... The Pride of the North... PRINCE GORN!"

ROAR.

From the Royal Gate, Prince Gorn stepped out.

He was magnificent. His golden fur was groomed to perfection, shining under the magelights.

He wore ceremonial armor made of white dragon bone and gold, enchanted to deflect magic.

In his hands, he held Stormcleaver, a massive greataxe crackling with blue lightning, a family heirloom of the White Lion line that he had usurped.

From the Common Gate, Leona walked out.

She wore no armor over her white cloak. She carried no weapon. Her left arm was still wrapped in dirty, oil-stained bandages.

They met in the center of the ring. The air between them sizzled with static.

"You've had your fun, peasant," Gorn sneered, looking down at Leona. "You threw a bea and slammed rhino. Impressive carnival tricks."

He pointed Stormcleaver at her chest. The lightning arced, smelling of ozone.

"But I am Royalty. I have the blood of the King. I have been trained by the finest masters in the North. You're just a stray dog with a broken arm."

Leona looked at the axe. It used to belong to her father. Seeing it in the hands of this pretender made the Berserk Aura simmer beneath her skin.

"Royalty isn't gold armor, Gorn," Leona said, her voice distorted by her mask. "And it isn't a loud mouth."

"Insolence!" Gorn roared.

"I will strip that mask off your corpse!"

"BEGIN!"

CRACK-BOOM!

Gorn not waiting for her to react made his move! He swung Stormcleaver.

A wave of blue lightning slashed through the air, carving a trench in the ice.

Leona ducked. The lightning passed inches over her head, scorching her hood.

Gorn was fast. Much faster than the Rhino.

He was a Peak 4th Order warrior, his body honed by royal resources. He spun, using the momentum of the heavy axe to launch a flurry of strikes.

Slash. Chop. Cleave.

The axe moved like a windmill of death.

But Leona moved like a ghost.

She weaved through the storm of steel and electricity.

Neither blocking nor retreating. She dodged with minimal movement, a tilt of the head, a slide of the foot.

Two years on the border. Two years of hunting Ice Drakes and fighting Frost Giants in the blizzard.

Compared to the monsters of the tundra, Gorn's attacks were... predictable.

"Stop running!" Gorn shouted, frustrated that he hadn't landed a hit.

"Lion's Art: Thunder Crash!"

He leaped into the air, bringing the axe down with enough force to split a glacier.

Leona stopped dodging.

She stepped in.

Using her right hand, her flesh hand, she delivered a short, brutal palm strike to the haft of the axe, right between Gorn's hands.

CLANG.

The impact threw Gorn's aim off by inches. The axe smashed into the ice beside her.

Before Gorn could recover, Leona spun.

"Too slow."

She kicked him in the chest.

THUD.

Gorn flew backward. He tumbled across the ice, his golden armor scraping against the frost.

He scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in shock and rage. The crowd gasped. The Prince had been knocked down by a freelancer.

"Is that your best?" Leona asked, adjusting her cloak. "The Border Guards hit harder."

"You..." Gorn's eyes bulged. The humiliation burned hotter than the lightning.

He looked at the crowd. However, instead of cheering for him, they were whispering.

He looked at the High Lodge. His father, King Scar, was watching with a cold, disappointed glare.

Kill him. Immediately.

Gorn's sanity snapped.

"I am a Prince!" Gorn screamed.

"I am a 5th Order genius! I will not be mocked by a stray!"

BOOM.

The air in the arena changed.

It didn't just get heavy; it solidified.

A golden aura exploded from Gorn's body. But it wasn't the erratic, wild aura of a 4th Order. It was dense. Controlled. Tangible.

A massive, spectral image of a Golden Lion materialized behind him, roaring silently.

The pressure slammed into the spectators in the front row, knocking the breath out of them.

"5th Order?!" The Fox-kin announcer shrieked.

"Prince Gorn has achieved the 5th Order! A King-level Warrior under thirty years old! It's a miracle!"

Leona froze. Her knees buckled slightly under the sudden weight.

Intent, she realized. The Intent of Suppression.

It felt like gravity had doubled. Her lungs struggled to draw air.

Gorn floated slightly off the ground, his eyes glowing white with power.

"Surprised?" Gorn laughed, his voice booming.

"I was saving this for the Coronation. But you... you are annoying enough to die early."

He raised his axe. This time, the lightning wasn't blue. It was white.

"Now, rat. KNEEL."

The Intent crashed down on Leona. It was a mental command, a psychic weight forcing her submission.

Leona gritted her teeth. Her legs shook. Her Berserk Aura flared red, trying to fight back, but at Peak 4th Order, she lacked the "Authority" to resist a 5th Order Intent.

She was forced down to one knee.

"Yes," Gorn sneered, walking toward her. "That is where you belong. In the dirt."

He raised the white-lightning axe high.

"Die knowing you were crushed by a King!"

Leona looked up. The axe was descending. The pressure was pinning her in place.

She couldn't dodge. She couldn't run.

But she wasn't alone.

Beneath the bandages on her left arm, the Void Core pulsed. It sensed the overwhelming energy of the 5th Order.

And it got hungry.

Leona grinned beneath her mask.

"A King?" she whispered, her golden eyes burning with a defiance that cut through the suppression.

"You're just a battery."

She ripped the bandages off her left arm.

RIIIIP.

Black metal gleamed in the firelight.

She raised the Void Gauntlet.

"Catch."

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