Every member of the Migase tribe approved Rogg's plan—no dissent, just unwavering trust in their leader. Fueled by determination, the Migase warriors—men and a small number of tough women—rallied toward the Kavusi cliff, the battlefield they had chosen. Though heavily outnumbered, their spirit remained unbreakable.
The sentries atop the cliffs greeted the king's arrival with tense faces. In the valley below, the Balevad forces stirred: nearly a thousand warriors accompanied by trained beasts—lions, wolves, bears.
The Balevad roared with confidence, its threefold advantage on display. But Rogg stood unmoved. His strategy was precise. Yara's women archers—skilled in combat and healing—were stationed in the rear as a fast-response support unit.
Suddenly, a massive figure emerged from the Balevad ranks: Billok, southern warlord of Balevad, known as the forest butcher and beast-tamer, wielding a barbed mace and double-edged sword. He strode forward with absolute confidence. Rogg stepped out to meet him in the traditional Kombat Balaidos, a one-on-one duel that would decide the battle's outcome.
Billok sneered. "That small body is meant to die with a soft thud," he growled.
Rogg didn't reply—only tightened his grip on his spear. But before combat began, a Balevad lion broke free and rushed toward Rogg. Chaos erupted. Yara's archers loosed arrows of fire from the walls. One pierced the lion's eye, and it collapsed, lifeless. With the beast's death, the Balevad erupted into rage.
"Fall back to the walls! Hold your ground!" Rogg commanded.
Migase soldiers slid into defensive positions. As Balevad warriors battered the wooden barricades with axes and maces, Migase fighters dropped from above to strike from both sides. The superior height disoriented their foes.
Then, barrels of whale-oil tipped over the parapets and ignited. Flames roared down on the trapped Balevad, who shrieked as the inferno engulfed them.
Billok roared in fury. "Bring down the walls!" He smashed with tremendous strength. Timber splintered—but what lay beyond wasn't Migase warriors at all, but hidden ballistas and more flame barrels. Rogg had relocated his forces, enveloping Billok's troops from both flanks. Balevad found themselves collapsed inward, caught between two fires.
"Form up tight! Fall back!" Billok bellowed as fire arrows continued to rain upon them. Rogg countered: "Hold! Do not pursue!" But Pragyan, blinded by vengeance over his father's death, disobeyed and charged ahead with the left wing. Balevad soldiers lured him into an open field and launched a fierce counterattack.
The lines fractured. Migase fighters pressed by numbers. Pragyan lay wounded, pinned in the midst of the chaos.
Rogg didn't hesitate. He charged into the turmoil, cleaving enemies with unstoppable force. In moments, he repelled the attackers and drew his people back into secure ranks.
From across the battlefield, Panting and bloodied, Billok watched Rogg in awe. Respect replaced contempt, and a spark of curiosity ignited in his gaze.
"So… you are Lokahita Visaka," Billok murmured. "Then let's finish this." The real Kombat Balaidos—the true duel—was about to begin.
Meanwhile, Pragyan, wounded and lying amid the carnage, cracked open his eyes, staring at the blood-soaked sky and dead around him. Pain bled over his face, but nothing hurt more than the sight of so many fallen comrades.
Yara's voice echoed in his mind: "This war isn't about vengeance—it's about our future."
In that moment, he understood.
With labored breaths, Pragyan slowly nodded to himself.
"Rogg was right… What we need is a leader, not an outlet for vengeance. I… I was reckless."
Meanwhile, the war drums began to thunder again. Their deep booms rolled through the Migase ranks, rekindling the fire in every warrior still standing. Victory wasn't theirs yet, but for the first time, the people of Migase believed—they could defeat the mighty force that had long oppressed them. Half the Balevad forces had already fallen.
Across the battlefield, Billok still stood tall, chest heaving with rage as he watched his men falter. His jaw clenched, his face tightened with disbelief. Never before had his soldiers been pushed this far.
His eyes narrowed toward the Migase stronghold.
"Who is he… really?" he muttered, doubt creeping into his voice.
His mind replayed the earlier clash—the precision of Rogg's spear, its uncanny speed, as if it anticipated every move. The dagger at his waist? Terrifying. It cut through iron like parchment. There were legends about Lovarian Steel—the rarest metal used to forge Heraxes blades, short swords only their creators could wield.
Billok glanced at his faltering troops. He knew morale was slipping fast. He had to act.
With a thunderous voice, he roared:
"I challenge the leader of Migase to Kombat Balaidos! Face me! One-on-one! Let us settle this today, once and for all!"
He marched toward the natural arena formed by the cliffs of Kavusi, each step echoing.
"No one interfere! Anyone who approaches—I'll take their head!"
A Migase interpreter rushed to relay the message. Rogg stood tall, his expression unreadable, though his mind moved quickly. He glanced at his warriors… then to Yara, standing by the barricade. Slowly, he stepped forward.
"Tell him this," Rogg said to the interpreter.
"'You want a duel, yet you've already lost the war. How can the defeated challenge the victor?'"
Billok scowled at the translation, then spat.
"You think this is over? We may be losing—but we are far from broken! Don't hide behind your women, false god!"
That insult sparked fury.
Yara stepped forward, her eyes like daggers.
"And you think a true man proves his worth by belittling women?" she shouted. "We are not their shadows. We stand beside them—against you!"
Rogg raised his hand. His voice was calm, but firm.
"In our tribe, women are not currency or offerings. They are mothers of life, protectors of our children. You call them weakness? They are our strength. They shield us while we strike. I stand here because of their courage."
Billok paused. His expression shifted—less mockery now, more caution.
"I accept your challenge," Rogg continued. "But only on one condition."
Billok narrowed his eyes. "What condition? Speak it."
"Have half of your army's weapons thrown into the Kavusi chasm. I want assurance this is truly a duel—not a masked invasion. Your men can remain, but they don't interfere."
A growl rumbled in Billok's throat. His warriors grumbled, but he raised a hand.
"THROW THEM!" he barked.
Reluctantly, swords, axes, and spears clattered into the ravine, the metal crashing against stone far below—a sound that sealed their pact.
Behind him, Yara grasped Rogg's hand. "Are you sure about this?"
Rogg looked into her eyes and nodded. "This isn't about winning or losing. It's about ending this—once and for all."
Yara exhaled. "Then end it, Rogg… but come back."
Rogg tightened his grip on his spear.
"I will. For you. For them."
The battle was about to begin.
Two leaders.
Two legacies.
Two futures.
And one battlefield that would bear witness to the final reckoning.