The First Challenger

The celebration in Gargar lasted deep into the night. Drums pounded, voices sang, and the air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and burning firewood. The twins sat in the heart of it all, still catching their breath, their bodies aching but their spirits soaring.

"We did it," Orgar said, staring into the flames. "The game is ours."

Gorgar, sitting beside him, turned the sacred skull over in his hands. "It's bigger than just us now," he murmured. "They all love it. Even Borak respects it now."

Orgar smirked. "That might be the real victory."

Across the village, Borak sat with his fellow hunters, watching the twins from a distance. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the hint of admiration in his eyes.

Then, just as the festivities were at their peak, a stranger stepped into the firelight.

The village quieted.

He was a young man, maybe a few years older than the twins, dressed in a cloak of deep blue fabric that marked him as an outsider. His hair was dark, his eyes sharp, and on his back, he carried a long staff wrapped in leather strips. But it was what he carried in his hands that caught everyone's attention.

A skull.

Not a war trophy, not a relic. A game piece.

Just like theirs.

A Game Beyond Gargar

The shaman was the first to speak. "Who are you, traveler?"

The young man bowed his head respectfully. "I am Varka," he said, his voice strong and sure. "I come from the village of Numaka, far to the west. And I have heard of what you have done here."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The twins glanced at each other.

"Our people," Varka continued, "have played a game like yours for generations. A game of skill, of speed, of honor. And when I heard of Gargar's great match, I knew I had to see it for myself."

He tossed the skull in his hands into the air and caught it effortlessly. "But there is only one way to know if your game is truly great."

A slow grin spread across Orgar's face. "You want to challenge us?"

Varka met his gaze. "I do."

The crowd erupted again, this time with excitement. Another village? Another game? Was it possible that Skullball was not unique to them alone?

The shaman raised his hands for silence. His eyes glowed with the flicker of the firelight. "A challenge has been issued," he said. "And it is only right that we answer it."

Orgar clenched his fists in excitement. "Then let's play."

The Terms of the Match

The next morning, the village gathered once again in the square, though this time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. The game was now part of their culture, and they were eager to see how it would evolve.

Varka stood at the center, facing the twins. Behind him were four other young men from his village lean, athletic, and confident. Unlike Borak's team, they weren't warriors or hunters. They were players.

"We play with five," Varka said, motioning to his team. "Like you."

Orgar nodded. "And how do you play?"

Varka smirked. "The same way you do, it seems. But in Numaka, we play to three goals. No time limit. Just pure skill."

Gorgar frowned. "No time limit?"

Varka shrugged. "We believe a game should be decided by the players, not the sun in the sky."

Orgar's grin widened. He liked this challenger. "Then let's see which village plays it better."

The skull was placed at the center of the field.

The crowd held its breath.

The match began.

Clash of Styles

The moment the drum sounded, Varka's team sprang into action with lightning speed. They moved as if they had been playing together since birth, their passes seamless, their strategy clear. It was unlike anything Orgar and Gorgar had faced before.

Within moments, Varka had the skull at his feet. He sprinted forward, feinted left, and with a sudden burst of speed, he struck the skull hard.

It soared straight past Orgar and into the goal.

The crowd gasped.

Varka turned to the twins, a knowing look in his eyes.

"One goal," he said simply.

Orgar clenched his fists. "Not for long."

The game resumed with even greater intensity. The twins had faced strength before, but this was different. Varka's team was not relying on brute force. They relied on movement, precision, and a deep understanding of the game.

But so did the twins.

Gorgar intercepted a pass with a perfectly timed slide, kicking the skull to Orgar. Without missing a beat, Orgar spun and passed to Varko, their fastest player. Varko took off, dodging past defenders, and with a swift kick, he sent the skull straight into the net.

The villagers erupted into cheers.

"One to one!" Orgar called out, grinning.

Varka just smiled. "Now it's a real game."

A Battle of Equals

For the first time, the twins were not fighting against opponents who underestimated them. They were not facing raw power or brute aggression. They were facing equals players who knew the game as well as they did, maybe even better.

Every move was calculated. Every pass was precise.

The second goal came after an intense battle near the center of the field. Varka's teammate attempted a long shot, but Gorgar leaped into the air, chesting the skull down and redirecting it. Orgar caught it and sprinted forward, but Varka was waiting.

They collided.

Dust kicked up as they both tumbled to the ground. But even as they fell, Orgar twisted his leg, knocking the skull toward his teammate.

Varko was there. He took the shot.

The skull hit the goalpost, bounced once, and rolled in.

"Two to one!" the crowd roared.

Orgar stood, brushing dust off his arms, and offered a hand to Varka.

The challenger took it, grinning. "Not bad."

The Final Goal

With the game at match point, the air was thick with tension. The Numaka team pressed forward aggressively, passing with incredible speed. The twins' team held their ground, countering each move with their own.

And then Varka saw his opening.

With a sudden burst, he darted past Orgar and kicked the skull hard toward the goal. It curved through the air, moving too fast.

Until Gorgar leaped.

He caught the skull midair with his foot and redirected it.

Straight to Orgar.

Orgar sprinted. His lungs burned, his legs ached, but he kept going. The goal was in sight. Varka was closing in, but Orgar was already in motion.

With a final, powerful strike, he sent the skull soaring.

Time seemed to slow as it spun through the air.

And landed in the goal.

Silence.

Then an explosion of cheers.

Respect Earned

Varka stood still, hands on his hips, breathing hard. Then, after a long pause, he laughed.

"Well played," he said, stepping forward. "You are worthy of this game."

Orgar and Gorgar shook his hand.

"You too," Orgar admitted. "We've never played anyone like you before."

Varka smirked. "And you won't be the last. There are other villages. Other players. This game is growing."

The twins exchanged a glance.

The game was bigger than they had ever imagined.

And this was only the beginning.

End of chapter 4