THE JADA PACKS ARRIVE

As Jada packs one, two, and three sprinted through the dense forests of Delria, the weight of their mission pressed on their shoulders. The towering trees cast long shadows under the dimming sky, their movements barely making a sound as they rushed toward the fallen border. News had already spread—many of the Winzo clan had been overrun, and the Nordians had taken control. Now, before the Beserkers could reinforce their position, Jada's finest warriors had to reclaim what was lost.

The three Alphas—Benji, Leo, and Rubi—ran at the front, their eyes sharp, their minds already formulating a strategy. These were no ordinary beasts. Their names carried weight across the battlefield, whispered in both fear and respect.

Benji clicked his tongue in frustration. "I still can't believe Winzo fell this fast. Those guys might not be Jada, but they're not weak. Nazia especially—he wouldn't have gone down easy."

Leo scoffed. "Solomon must've been there. No way a regular squad is taking out Nazia and the rest of them so quickly. That guy's a freak of nature."

Rubi, usually the quietest of the three, gritted her teeth. "Doesn't matter how it happened. What matters is that we're only thirty deep, and we're about to face an entire occupation force. If we don't push them back before the rest of Jada arrives, they'll have time to fortify their position. This isn't just about reclaiming the border—it's about stopping them from pouring in more Beserkers."

Benji let out a low growl. "Yeah, we don't have the numbers for a full-frontal assault. We'll have to make them think twice before settling in too comfortably."

Leo smirked, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. "An ambush, then. Hit them in the dead of night, catch them when they're at their weakest."

Rubi nodded. "It's our only option. We push them back just enough for the rest of Jada to reinforce us. If we fail, the whole border is lost."

A heavy silence settled over them as they picked up their pace, fully aware of the impossible task ahead. But they were Jada pack one, two, and three—the mightiest warriors of the beast folk. They had been bred for war, sharpened by battle, and they would remind the Beserkers why their name was feared.

The night air was thick with tension as Jada's warriors positioned themselves in the treetops, their sharp eyes locked onto the enemy camp below. Torches flickered, casting eerie shadows over the Beserkers' tents. They were spread across the captured border, some gathered around fires, others lazily sharpening their weapons. They thought they had already won.

Benji crouched low, his eyes scanning the scene. "They're comfortable," he muttered. "That won't last long."

Leo smirked. "That's because they don't know Jada is here."

Jada Clan was unlike any other in Delria. Their bloodline carried the highest number of Ancient Beast Bloodline (ABB) warriors, beasts who could not only transform but also wield elemental inner. While most beast folk relied solely on their transformations, Jada's warriors could fuse their animal abilities with fire, water, lightning, or ice—making them the deadliest combatants in Delria. It was no surprise that they were the most formidable warriors in the entire beast folk nation.

Benji looked at his two fellow Alphas—Leo and Rubi. They weren't just any warriors; they were legends.

Benji, half man, half dragon, with fire inner that could reduce a battlefield to ash.

Leo, a half-lizard warrior whose water inner turned his attacks into a relentless tide.

Rubi, half-woman, half-snake, a master of both deception and fire inner, her strikes as fast as they were deadly.

Benji exhaled, heat radiating from his body. "Rubi, take your squad and hit them from the eas. Leo, you strike from the south. My squad will come from the west. Push them to the center—once they're trapped, we finish them."

Rubi grinned. "By the time they realize what's happening, they'll already be dead."

Benji smirked. "Then let's get started."

The moment Rubi's squad hit the ground, the night erupted into chaos.

She moved like a phantom, her lower body shifting into a coiled tail as she struck. Her first victim barely had time to scream before her bladed fingers sliced through his throat. Flames engulfed her hands, and with a flick of her wrist, fire exploded into a row of tents, burning everything in its path.

From the south, Leo and his warriors struck hard. As they leaped from the trees, their transformations took hold—bodies shifting mid-air. Leo's water inner burst forth in deadly arcs, forming long tendrils that lashed out, slicing through flesh and bone. Some of his squad wielded ice, forming spears that impaled Beserkers as they scrambled for their weapons. Others summoned massive waves that surged through the camp, extinguishing torches and plunging the battlefield into darkness.

Then, from the west, Benji made his entrance.

A pillar of fire shot into the sky as he landed with a thunderous crash, his dragon form towering over the battlefield. With one deep inhale, he unleashed a torrent of flames, setting the western side ablaze. His warriors, the strongest ABB users, followed suit—some wielding lightning, others ice, each attack tearing through the startled Beserkers.

Despite their numbers, the Beserkers were struggling.

But then, a voice cut through the chaos.

"ENOUGH!"

The battlefield stilled.

From the center of the camp, Solomon emerged, his Halo Sword humming with power, its bright blue glow illuminating the destruction around him. Beside him, Zaia tightened the grip on her dual short swords, her stance unreadable, and Reo cracked his knuckles, eager for the fight.

Benji's blood boiled with excitement. He licked the blood from his lips and stepped forward.

"Finally," he growled. "The real fight begins."

The flames crackled around them, casting flickering shadows across the battlefield. The once-calm night was now consumed by chaos, screams, and the scent of burning flesh. But in the midst of it all, two warriors stood still.

Benji and Solomon locked eyes.

They had never met before, yet they knew of each other. Their names carried weight in their respective nations—living legends, warriors who had carved their legacies through countless battles. Now, for the first time, they stood face to face.

Benji took a slow step forward, his towering, dragon-like form radiating heat. His amber eyes, filled with unfiltered hatred, gleamed in the firelight. His voice was low, like a growl from the depths of something ancient.

"So… you're the infamous Solomon. I've heard your name whispered through Delria for years. The mighty Beserker who cuts down anything in his path." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Funny. I always imagined you as something more… monstrous."

Solomon gripped his glowing sword tightly. His stance remained composed, but there was an edge to his expression. "And you must be Benji of the Jada Clan. They call you the Dragon of Delria, don't they?" He tilted his head slightly. "I thought you'd be bigger."

Benji smirked, but his eyes were dark. "Oh, you'll find out just how big I am soon enough."

Solomon let out a quiet breath. "Tell me, Benji—why do you fight? What fuels the fire inside you?"

Benji's smirk faded instantly. His gaze darkened, his voice turning cold and venomous. "You want to know why I fight, Nordian?" He stepped closer, his claws curling into fists. "I fight because your people have plagued mine for generations. Because I was raised on stories of the cruelty your kind inflicted on my ancestors. I fight because my father told me, as a child, that the screams of our people still echo in the winds of our land."

He bared his sharp teeth, his breathing heavy. "I fight because every time I close my eyes, I see the ruins of our past, destroyed by your kind's greed. I hear the cries of mothers clutching their children as your ancestors burned our villages to the ground. And I smell the blood of my people, soaking the soil that was once ours."

Solomon exhaled slowly, gripping his sword a little tighter. "That was centuries ago, Benji. None of us were alive for that. None of us swung the first blade."

Benji's expression twisted in disgust. "Centuries ago? Does time erase suffering? Does time undo what your ancestors did? You think the wounds have healed?" His voice was shaking now, but not with fear—with rage. "Your people stole everything from us and called it history. And now, after all these years, after everything you've taken, you come here… to take more, you just bomb our capital, killing thousands of innocent civilians?"

Solomon's expression hardened. "I didn't come here to take. I came here because your people murdered one of ours in cold blood. I came here because war was declared, and I serve my king."

Benji let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "That's the difference between us, Solomon. You serve your king. I serve my people." He raised his hand, embers swirling between his fingers. "You fight because you're ordered to. I fight because I want to."

Solomon's eyes narrowed. He could see it now—Benji wasn't just another warrior. He was a man consumed by hatred, forged in the fire of vengeance. There was no negotiating, no reasoning. The battle had already begun the moment they had stepped onto the same battlefield.

"So be it," Solomon said, lifting his Halo Sword, its blue light cutting through the darkness. "Let's see if your hatred makes you strong enough to kill me."

Benji's grin was wild, unhinged. "Oh, I don't want to kill you, Solomon. I need to."

And with that, they lunged at each other.