"Mak'gora!"

The challenge hung in the freezing air, heavier than the glaciers surrounding the Great Den.

Fifty thousand Beast-kin held their breath. In the modern age, Mak'gora was a word rarely spoken, a relic of a bloodier time.

It was the "Duel of Ancestors," a primal law older than the kingdom itself.

Its rules were absolute: No outside interference. No mercy. The winner took the tribe; the loser faced exile or death.

A duel where only those willing to risk their lives were willing to engage.

And Leona, who had found out her father was murdered by her uncle all this while, was willing to do so, as thoughts of revenge clouded her mind.

Even if she was bound to lose, even if she had no hope of winning.

She at least wanted to try to avenge her father!

Leona stood in the center of the ring, the unconscious body of Prince Gorn lying at her feet like a discarded toy.

Her golden mane flowed in the wind, her crimson eyes locked on the High Lodge.

"Answer me, Uncle!" Leona roared, her voice echoing off the ice walls.

"Do you accept? Or are you a coward who hides behind walls?"

In the arena, King Scar trembled.

His claws dug into the hilt of his black sword, Nightfang.

He looked at the girl he thought was dead years ago, then at the mechanical arm that had just crushed his son.

"You..." Scar hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

"You should have stayed dead!."

He looked up at the stands.

The crowd was no longer silent. They were kneeling.

One by one, the Wolf-kin, the Bear-kin, the Boar-kin... they dropped to one knee, fists pressed against the ice in the traditional salute to a Challenger.

Even the Royal Guards hesitated, lowering their spears.

To refuse a Mak'gora in front of the gathered tribes was to admit fear. It was political suicide.

Scar's lip curled in a sneer. He released his grip on his anger, replacing it with cold, arrogant calculation.

"You want to die by my hand so badly, little cub?"

Scar stepped forward.

He stepped off the ledge, walking upon the air itself.

THUD. THUD.

With each step, the air cracked under his feet as if it were solid stone.

He landed in the arena, ten meters from Leona. Standing seven feet tall, he dwarfed even Leona's new height.

He threw off his royal cloak, revealing armor made of black dragon-scale that pulsed with a dark, electric light.

"I accept," Scar announced, his voice booming without magic.

"Let the ancestors witness your folly."

He released his aura.

BOOM!

The ground shattered.

A wave of pressure exploded from Scar's body, infinitely heavier than Gorn's. Dark, stormy grey energy crackled around him, laced with black lightning.

The pressure slammed into the spectators in the front row, knocking them unconscious. The ice beneath Scar's feet turned to powder.

Leona grit her teeth, bracing herself. Her knees buckled. Her new 5th Order aura, which had felt invincible moments ago, flickered like a candle in a hurricane.

"What..." Leona gasped, sweat instantly beading on her forehead. "This pressure... it's not 5th Order."

In the Council Box, Elder Korg, the Mammoth Elder, stood up, his tusks trembling.

"6th Order," Korg whispered in horror. "The King... he has broken the barrier. He is an Elementary 6th Order Warlord."

A 6th Order.

The gap was insurmountable. A 5th Order could level a castle; a 6th Order could level a mountain range.

They had mastered the "Mana Skin," fusing their element with their very flesh.

Scar laughed, seeing the realization in Leona's eyes.

"Did you think I sat idle on the throne, niece?" Scar taunted, walking toward her. The black lightning danced over his skin, forming a secondary layer of armor.

"I took what was owed to me. I took the power your father was too weak to grasp."

"My father wasn't weak!" Leona shouted, forcing herself to stand tall against the crushing gravity of his presence.

"He was the strongest warrior in the North!"

"Strong?" Scar stopped inches from her face. The smell of ozone and blood was overpowering.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that only she, and perhaps the sharpest ears in the stands, could hear.

"Your father was a fool, Leona. He was Peak 6th Order. He was on the verge of the 7th."

Leona froze. "What?"

"But he trusted me," Scar grinned, a cruel, jagged expression.

"He trusted me to guard his meditation chamber while he attempted the breakthrough. He trusted me with his recovery tonic."

Scar tapped the side of his nose.

"A little Abyss Poison... a little destabilization... and poof."

Scar chuckled low in his throat.

"He didn't die in battle. He died screaming, his mana veins bursting one by one, begging me to save him. And I watched."

Leona's vision went red.

The rage she felt toward Gorn was a spark compared to the inferno that ignited in her chest now.

"You..." Leona whispered, her voice trembling not with fear, but with pure, unadulterated hate.

"You murdered him. You poisoned your own brother."

"I took the crown," Scar corrected, raising his sword.

"And now, I will bury his last legacy"

"After all, what are brothers for?" he smiled, spreading his arms into the air

"BEGIN!" The announcer screamed, terrified.

CRACK!

Scar moved.

He vanished in a flash of black lightning, reappearing in less than a second behind Leona.

"Too slow."

SLASH.

He swung Nightfang.

Leona spun, raising her Void Gauntlet to block.

CLANG!

Unfortunately, it was no use.

The impact was devastating to say the least.

Leona was launched across the arena. She smashed through three layers of ice walls before burying herself in the stone foundation of the stadium.

"Is that it?" Scar laughed, walking toward the hole in the wall.

"Is that the power of the 'Border Killer'? Get up, Leona! Die like a Lion!"

Leona coughed, pulling herself out of the rubble. Her armor was dented. Her ribs were cracked.

The Void Gauntlet was humming, struggling to absorb the sheer density of the 6th Order lightning.

She wiped blood from her mouth. Her golden eyes burned.

"I'm not done," she growled.

She charged.

The Mak'gora had begun, and at this point in time, there was no turning back.

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