That day, the small dock at Migase Bay bustled with cheers and celebration. A great sailing ship had finally returned after nearly eleven months of journeying across the Southern Sea. On its deck, Pragyan stood, drawing in a deep breath, letting the scent of his homeland fill his lungs. Behind him, crew members began unloading crates filled with treasures: rare shells, pearls, rolls of silk from the city of Patisia, and chunks of raw metal for forging.
But the brightness in Pragyan's face slowly faded when his eyes caught sight of Bala, standing stiffly at the far end of the dock. There was no smile, no warm welcome.
"Bala?" Pragyan stepped off the ship. "Where's Father? He's always the first to greet me."
Bala exhaled deeply, his gaze falling to the ground. "Father… is gone."
Pragyan froze, his brows furrowing sharply. "What do you mean?"
"He… passed away. Exactly one week after you set sail. During the Balevad raid."
Pragyan clutched Bala's arm. "What? Are you serious?"
Bala nodded solemnly. "Come. Let's go home. Praniyen can explain more."
At home, Praniyen was already waiting. The moment she saw her brother, she embraced him—but the hug was cold, her face streaked with dried tears.
"Father..." her voice cracked. "He died… defending the village. He knew we couldn't win, but he stood at the front anyway. They refused to give up our people as tribute to Balevad. And while retreating to the Kavusi cliffs… he fell, along with dozens of other warriors."
Pragyan pulled away, his eyes glassy, his jaw clenched. "And you?" he turned to Bala, voice sharp. "Where were you then? You let him die alone?!"
"Pragyan, stop—" Praniyen tried to calm him.
But Pragyan shoved Bala against the wall. "Why weren't you with him, huh?! You were always at his side! Why not then?!"
Bala lowered his head in silence. "We fought. All of us. But he stayed at the front line… we couldn't reach him in time…"
"Not good enough!" Pragyan shouted. "You know how hard he fought for us! And you just let him fall?!"
Tears streamed silently down Bala's face. "I… I'm sorry."
Eight months had passed since Rogg and Yara took leadership of the Migase tribe. Under their guidance, the village flourished. Defense systems were strengthened, military training became routine, and the people grew more self-sufficient. But peace, as always, was temporary.
From the north, grim news arrived. The Balevad had returned. They had set up camp at the Kavusi ravine along the border—twice as many as before. War drums thundered, and the howls of their war beasts—tigers and wolves—echoed through the valley. This time, they demanded one thing: surrender Rogg, the man who had humiliated them.
That night, the Migase tribal hall was packed. Men bore spears and shields, women with bows on their backs, and even children sat silently, awaiting the decision.
Pragyan stood among the crowd, still in his sailor's garb, bringing with him several swords and pieces of combat gear from the ship. He handed them to the guards.
"It's not much, but enough to help some of us survive longer."
At the front stood Rogg, clad in the leader's robe and crowned with the red-and-black shell diadem. He stepped into the center of the room and raised his hand.
"Silence," he said, soft but firm. Instantly, the room hushed.
"My friends… my Migase family… our old enemies have returned. They don't just bring soldiers—they bring hatred, vengeance. They demand one life, in exchange for sparing the rest. But what kind of life is one lived in fear?"
He looked at the faces around him—faces once pale with dread, now beginning to reflect courage.
"We've learned together. We've grown together. And I swear… I will never surrender even one of you. I will stand in front. We face them—together."
A chorus of cheers rang out. But it was cut short as Pragyan stepped forward to speak.
"If we're going to fight, we need to be truly prepared! Weapons alone won't save us. Strategy. Positioning. Equipment. I have some—brought from my voyage. But it won't be enough unless we're united."
Rogg turned to him. "You brought weapons from your journey?"
Pragyan nodded. "Swords, light shields, iron spears. Not many. But I'll repair and sharpen them fast. I won't let our father's death be in vain."
Rogg's eyes narrowed with resolve. He nodded.
"Good. You handle the armory. Bala, take charge of the defense formations. Yara… please organize shelter for the children and the elderly."
Yara rose from her seat.
"I'll arrange it. I'll also ready the women archers. And… make sure the wounded won't be left behind."
Rogg looked each of them in the eye.
"We don't have much time. But we have spirit. We've won before, and we can win again. Not because we're stronger—but because we have something to protect."
Pragyan stood frozen at the side of the hall, his gaze fixed on the unfamiliar man wearing the red-black shell crown, standing tall before the people. His voice was commanding, full of charisma, and his presence radiated a leadership that was impossible to deny.
Pragyan approached Bala, who stood not far from him. In a hushed, bewildered tone, he asked,"Who is he? Why aren't the elders leading anymore? Since when do we have a... King?"
Bala turned, eyes steady but filled with reverence."His name is Rogg. He challenged and defeated the Balevad war chief in a Balaidos Combat. He led us in the last battle. He is… Lokahita Visaka—the one we only knew from prophecy."
Pragyan furrowed his brows. "You're serious? A man like him… that powerful? Even in Guava Valley, I've never seen someone as strong—or as fearless—as him."
Bala nodded firmly."He's not just strong. He fights not for power, but for our safety. He refuses to be worshipped like a god, yet everything he's done… it's what makes people believe he is one."
Rogg, who had overheard the exchange, stepped forward and gently removed his crown. He looked straight at Pragyan and said,"I'm not a god—nor someone you need to bow to. I'm just a man who has lost—my brother, my parents, my village… and nearly lost myself to vengeance. But I've learned something: revenge should never be the fuel to kill. It can be a lesson. A reason to survive. A reason to live better than those who tried to break us."
The hall fell silent.
Rogg continued, voice clear and unwavering,"We can no longer live in the shadow of fear. We must face them. But not with brutality—we must win with a calm mind. If they demand a Balaidos duel, then I will stand in the circle. Not you. I will represent Migase."
Yara, who had been seated beside him, rose and spoke firmly,"Rogg's right. We can't fight overwhelming strength with just muscle. We must be smarter, more precise, more composed. Strategy is our weapon now."
Bala looked conflicted. He stepped forward and asked,"But, my King… we've learned so much. We have soldiers. We have strength. Why not strike first?"
Rogg stared at him, unflinching."Because if we attack without thought, we become just like them. We'll lose too much. And in the end, we prove we're no better. We don't want to kill to win—we want to live to win."
Pragyan finally broke his silence. "Then… what's your plan, King?"
"I will challenge their leader in a one-on-one duel. A Balaidos Combat," Rogg said resolutely."If I win, they retreat. If I lose—"
"You won't lose," Yara cut in sharply.
Rogg turned to her, offering a small smile."I'll fight not just for myself, but for all of you. For the children who deserve to grow up without fear, for the women who no longer need to hide, and for those who've already lost everything."
The words echoed throughout the chamber. No one spoke, but their faces had changed—no longer gripped by fear, but by belief.
Elder Hergon rose, his voice calm and commanding."If you are ready, Lokahita Visaka, then so are we. We will face them. With courage, with cunning… and with a clean heart."
A slow cheer began to rise, then grew into a thunderous roar that filled every corner of the hall.
Rogg raised his spear to the air."Tonight, we prepare our defenses. Tomorrow morning… we face them."
Yara stood beside him, squeezing his hand tightly. Pragyan bowed his head and nodded slowly."I will stand behind you, no matter what happens. You may not be a god, Rogg… but perhaps that's exactly why we've chosen to follow you."
And that night, beneath the darkening valley sky, all eyes in Migase looked upon their leader—not for his crown, not for a prophecy, but because he chose to stand… when others would have chosen to kneel.
The night closed with a solemn prayer. Outside, the stars burned brighter than usual.And in the hearts of every Migase soul, the fire of resistance was lit once more.