“The fight between Lakan and Mogdar will now begin! Are both fighters ready?” Elder Ulganar announced. “No weapons are allowed, and killing is strictly forbidden. You may use any technique at your disposal.”

  “Yes! I’m more than ready. I’ll crush that arrogant fool!” Mogdar sneered, cracking his knuckles.

  “I’m ready,” Lakan replied calmly, his eyes locked on his opponent.

  “Then… fight!”

  Mogdar wasted no time, lunging forward with a powerful punch aimed at Lakan’s head.

  Lakan barely dodged, caught off guard by the sudden aggression but recovering swiftly.

  Mogdar unched another relentless assault, his beastman instincts kicking in as he pressed forward. Lakan barely managed to dodge, weaving through the rapid punches and kicks. Each strike came with a forceful gust of wind, a testament to Mogdar’s raw power. Taking a clean hit would mean getting knocked ft, and Lakan had no intention of letting that happen.

  Realizing he was at a disadvantage, he took a deep breath, centering himself.

  He gathered all his Ki into his heart, feeling it pulse like a steady drumbeat. Then, with a powerful release, the energy spread through his body, heightening his senses and reinforcing his muscles. His movements became sharper, his reactions faster.

  This was the power of the beastmen. Unlike demonkins, who fueled themselves with blood, beastmen harnessed the natural energy within them—Ki—allowing them to push past their limits with controlled bursts of power.

  With his newfound strength, Lakan shifted from defense to offense. As Mogdar unched a straight punch, Lakan ducked low and countered with a sharp strike to the gut.

  Thud!

  Mogdar’s breath hitched as the force sent him stumbling backward. He steadied himself, coughing slightly before wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

  Gasps rose from the on looking beastmen.

  “How does he know our technique?!” one muttered.

  “Did a beastman teach him? No outsider should know this!” another growled.

  Mogdar rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he met Lakan’s gaze. His eyes weren’t filled with rage—rather, they burned with excitement. This was a real fight. A challenge.

  Lakan had no pns of slowing down. He rushed forward, aiming a punch at Mogdar’s face.

  Mogdar blocked the punch and immediately threw a body shot at Lakan.

  Lakan twisted his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike. Seizing the opening, he swept Mogdar’s leg, causing him to fall.

  As Mogdar hit the ground, Lakan drove a punch downward, aiming for his jaw. But before the strike could nd, Mogdar kicked upward, striking Lakan in the chest and stopping the attack.

  Though the kick cked full power due to Mogdar’s position, it was enough to force Lakan back, making him stumble.

  Mogdar wasted no time. He sprang to his feet, but Lakan was already unching forward to throw another punch.

  But Mogdar reacted quickly, stomping his foot down.

  Boom!

  A cloud of dust exploded from the ground, filling the air with thick debris and obscuring Lakan’s vision.

  “Damn it! I can’t see!” Lakan muttered, stepping back slightly.

  Then—he felt it. A surge of energy from within the dust cloud.

  “Shit…” Lakan tensed.

  “HAAAH! Oh mighty Gorzhul, bless this warrior’s spirit with strength!” Mogdar’s voice boomed through the haze.

  Lakan barely had time to react before—

  BOOM!

  Mogdar shot through the smoke, his fist rocketing toward Lakan.

  Lakan raised his arms to block just in time. The impact sent a jolt through his body, pushing him backward several feet, his heels digging into the ground. His arms tingled from the force, but he remained standing.

  Mogdar grinned. “Not bad.”

  “Same to you,” Lakan replied, shaking out his arms.

  Mogdar lunged again, refusing to let up. Lakan quickly grabbed a nearby rock and throw it at Mogdar’s legs. Hoping that it will — disrupt his charge.

  It worked. Mogdar hesitated for half a second, just enough for Lakan to leap backward and put some space between them.

  But Mogdar wasn’t done. He pnted his feet, preparing for another attack.

  Lakan, his arm broken and one knee pnted firmly on the ground, gritted his teeth against the pain. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping down his face. Despite his injuries, he pressed his broken arm against the earth, his fingers digging into the dirt.

  A faint glow pulsed from his hand.

  Elder Ulganar’s sharp eyes caught it immediately. His brows furrowed as he leaned forward, sensing a small but distinct energy seeping from Lakan’s palm.

  “What is that energy…?” he murmured, his voice ced with curiosity and disbelief. “Is that… mana?”

  He turned toward Panday, his expression dark with confusion. “How did that boy use magic? And the beastman techniques as well? No one would have taught him—no one could have.”

  Mogdar, poised to strike, exploded forward with blinding speed, closing the distance to Lakan in mere seconds.

  His fist shot forward like a bullet, but just as he was about to nd the blow, the ground beneath his front foot gave way slightly. The unexpected shift threw him off bance, causing him to stumble forward.

  Seizing the opportunity, Lakan drove his knee into the falling Mogdar. However, Mogdar managed to shield his jaw with his arm, absorbing most of the impact.

  Lakan, refusing to let up, csped both hands together and delivered a powerful hammer blow to Mogdar’s back. The force sent Mogdar crashing face-first into the ground, unconscious.

  But the blessing of the Orc God, Gorzhul, and reignited Mogdar’s fighting spirit. His body stirred, and with a sudden burst of energy, he sprang back to life, unching himself at Lakan from the ground.

  Lakan reacted instantly, shifting his stance and stepping back while shoving Mogdar down to regain control.

  However, as an orc known for his immense strength, Mogdar pnted his feet firmly and began pushing back, slowly rising despite Lakan’s effort to keep him pinned.

  Frustration built within Lakan—he was nearly out of energy and needed to end the fight.

  With a decisive move, he twisted his body and leaped onto Mogdar’s back, locking in a rear naked choke. To prevent Mogdar from using his superior strength to escape, Lakan turned to the side, forcing Mogdar onto his back.

  Gritting his teeth, Lakan squeezed with all his remaining strength, tightening his hold around Mogdar’s neck. He locked his arms in pce, ensuring Mogdar couldn’t pry them free.

  Within moments, Mogdar’s resistance faded, and his body went limp as unconsciousness took him.

  “Stop! The fights over—Lakan wins!”

  Hearing the call, Lakan released his grip and colpsed onto his back, breathing heavily as he y still, catching his breath.

  The crowd fell into stunned silence, the weight of the unexpected outcome settling over them like a heavy fog. Even the great warriors Zarik and Baloga, seasoned fighters who had seen countless battles, were left speechless.

  They had expected Mogdar to win. How could he not? He was a champion of the sve fighting arenas' teen category in Viscount Beaufort’s territory, hardened by brutal combat. Among their group, even as a teenager, he was the strongest—unrivaled in sheer power and skill.

  And yet, here he y, defeated.

  By a boy who had just turned thirteen.

  The fight ended with Lakan’s victory, but he sustained more severe injuries—a broken arm and bruises all over his body—while Mogdar only suffered minor injuries.

  Exhausted, the two fighters slept early in the afternoon and did not wake until the next day.

  “Augh, my body aches.” Blurp “I’m hungry,” Lakan muttered as he got up, craving something to eat.

  Lakan wandered around the encampment in search of food when he spotted Mogdar eating with the other orcs.

  “What are you staring at?” Mogdar asked.

  “Quite arrogant for someone who lost. Don’t forget our agreement,” Lakan responded.

  The two stared at each other for a while, the tension in the air making the nearby orcs uneasy as they prepared to intervene if another fight broke out.

  “Well, I was the one who challenged you and got defeated. I acknowledge you as the leader,” Mogdar said.

  “Then I’ll work you to the bone,” Lakan replied.

  Lakan then asked, “Can I eat with you all? I’m starving.” Without waiting for a response, he sat down and began eating.

  As Lakan and the orcs conversed over their meal, a group of beastmen suddenly appeared, searching for him.

  “Lakan! Where did you learn our technique? A filthy half-human like you shouldn’t be using it!” a senior beastman growled, his voice ced with disdain for Lakan’s very existence.

  “It’s none of your business,” Lakan replied coldly.

  “Come! The elder has summoned you.”

  Lakan already knew what this was about, but without resistance, he proceeded to meet Elder Ulganar.

  “Lakan, how are you? Are your injuries healing well?” Elder Ulganar asked.

  “Elder, let’s just get to the point. They brought me here to question me about my technique, right?” Lakan said.

  “Well, you really are a sharp one,” Elder Ulganar said, amused.

  Lakan gnced at the beastmen, his gaze unwavering. “And what if I refuse to answer?”

  “You mongrel!” one of the beastmen spat.

  Ignoring the outburst, Lakan turned to Elder Ulganar. “Elder, I have a suggestion. Why don’t we exile the beastmen? They’re too proud of their past glory, clinging to the belief that it still holds weight. They’ll only be a hindrance when we reach our destination and build a home there.”

  The beastman was enraged by Lakan’s statement.

  Zarik, standing beside Elder Ulganar, looked at Lakan in confusion. Then, he suddenly remembered—Lakan had spared Rhazak and his company despite their betrayal.

  “Beastmen, even though you are a prideful race, you should at least know shame,” Zarik said, his voice firm. “Do you even realize that during Lakan and Rhazak’s st expedition, they abandoned him? Do you really think you’d still be here if Lakan had told the others about it?”

  The beastmen were stunned by the sudden revetion. Their eyes shifted toward Rhazak, who had been silently following them, curious about how Lakan had acquired their technique.

  Rhazak's face paled with fear and confusion.

  “Why are you all looking at me?” he snapped. “You hated him too—for such a petty reason. I was just doing you all a favor.”

  Shame washed over the beastmen. They had harbored resentment toward Lakan despite the fact that they had benefited from joining the expedition. And even after Rhazak’s betrayal, Lakan had chosen to forgive him.

  As the conversation continued, a divide began to form among the beastmen. On one side were the elders and traditionalists who still clung to their past beliefs. On the other were those willing to accept Lakan—not just as one of them, but as their leader.