Alex’s face twisted with frustration as he stared down at Arata, bloodied and bruised, but still wearing that infuriating smile. His fists clenched, anger radiating through him in waves. “Still smirking, even now? After all of this?” His voice was laced with both anger and disbelief. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Without hesitation, Alex surged forward, energy crackling like a storm around him. But just as he closed the distance, Arata calmly raised his hand, unclasping his helmet and tossing it to the side. The broken visor clattered against the ground, leaving his face bare and bloody, his eyes gleaming with a wild, unyielding light. He squared his shoulders, wiping away a trail of blood from his lip, and his smirk grew wider.

“Come on, Alex,” he taunted, his voice low but steady, almost daring. “Is this the best you’ve got?”

Alex’s expression darkened, and he let out a guttural growl as he lunged forward, fists raised. “You’re going to regret this.” He swung with all the power of his kingly Lion form, each blow imbued with the strength of his awakened potential. The ground trembled with each strike as he unleashed his frustration, his fists colliding with Arata in rapid, brutal succession.

But Arata moved with surprising agility, weaving through the onslaught. A punch aimed at his chest—sidestepped. Another to his jaw—ducked. He was dancing around Alex’s attacks, his movements almost taunting, each dodge making Alex’s rage build.

“What’s wrong, Alex?” Arata asked, slipping past a powerful swing that sent shockwaves rippling outward. “Can’t keep up?”

Alex growled and pushed forward, his speed increasing, finally managing to land a hard punch to Arata’s ribs. The impact sent Arata skidding backward, gasping slightly as he steadied himself, but the smile never left his face. Even bruised and battered, he straightened up, challenging Alex with that same unbreakable grin.

Watching from afar, Angela’s eyes flicked between the two fighters as she carefully tended to Elio, who lay unconscious beside her. She felt the clash of energy from Arata and Alex, the air thick with intensity, and a single thought echoed in her mind: “What are you planning, Arata?”

Alex’s attacks grew more desperate, more powerful. He raised both hands, releasing a massive wave of energy that scorched the air around them. The ground cracked, rocks shattering under the force of his attack. But Arata, with a quiet determination, braced himself, meeting the full force of Alex’s energy head-on. His body shook, blood trickling from his brow, yet he stood firm, refusing to back down.

With a growl of frustration, Alex charged again, aiming a brutal kick at Arata’s side. Arata grunted as the blow connected, but instead of falling back, he used the momentum to spin around, landing a swift counterpunch to Alex’s jaw. Alex staggered, momentarily caught off guard by Arata’s unexpected retaliation.

“Still think you’re the king here?” Arata’s voice was low but fierce, his smile undeterred even as he wiped blood from his mouth. “If you want me to fall, you’re going to have to try a lot harder.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Alex’s fists trembled, his fury boiling over as he met Arata’s gaze, that unrelenting smirk staring him down. “Why won’t you just go down?” he shouted, launching himself forward once again, aiming to finally break that defiance.

Arata steadied his stance, bracing himself for the next wave, his smirk unwavering.

A soft, uneven breath stirred from Elio as his eyes fluttered open, the haze of unconsciousness fading into sharp awareness. His gaze settled on Angela, who was seated nearby, her focus split between tending to his injuries and casting worried glances toward the battlefield where Arata was locked in an unyielding clash with Alex.

Angela sensed the movement beside her, and her eyes widened with surprise. "Elio, you’re awake!" she said, relief mixing with her concern. "Arata… he’s fighting like never before. But… something feels different. It's as if he’s growing right there in the battle."

Elio’s lips quirked slightly, a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "He is," he murmured, his voice rough but steady. "Arata’s always been like this… always growing with each fight, facing his limits head-on and pushing beyond them."

Angela tilted her head, puzzled. "But this feels… strange. It’s like he’s not just pushing himself but also letting Alex grow, almost like he’s… encouraging it."

A solemn shadow crossed Elio’s face, and he locked eyes with Angela. "Do you hear it, Angela?" he asked, his voice low and almost reverent.

Angela furrowed her brows, straining her senses. And then she heard it—a distant, primal roar, like the spirit of a lion crying out across the battlefield. "Yes… I hear it," she replied, a shiver running down her spine.

Elio nodded, his gaze unwavering. "That’s the Lion’s voice," he said quietly. "It’s calling out, longing for a fight, a proper fight against someone strong enough to face it." He took a deep breath, his voice carrying a weight of understanding. "Arata doesn’t want to hurt the Lion’s pride. He knows that if he just overpowered Alex, the Lion would never fully respect him, would never truly be his to wield."

Angela’s eyes widened as she began to grasp what Elio was saying. "So that’s why… Arata is letting Alex unleash everything. So that when he finally takes Alex’s ring, the Lion will accept him, accept him with all its pride intact."

Elio looked down, his expression softening with an unspoken sadness. "Yes. He’s letting the Lion roar, letting it unleash every ounce of strength. Only then, when the Lion has given its all, will Arata step in with everything he has."

Angela processed his words, her heart heavy with a mix of awe and worry. "But… that means Arata isn’t really fighting Alex, is he?"

Elio’s gaze turned distant, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "No, he’s not," he murmured. "Arata isn’t fighting Alex, not really. He’s fighting the Lion itself, recognizing it as an opponent worthy of respect. Just like I…"

He hesitated, his voice breaking ever so slightly, and Angela noticed a tear glistening in his eye as he struggled to continue.

"Just like how… right now… I am fighting the Dark Dragon within me," Elio whispered, his voice raw with vulnerability, "the same Dragon that destroyed this entire country." He clenched his fists, and a tear slipped down his cheek, his pain laid bare.

Angela reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, her own heart aching at his sorrow. "Elio…" she murmured softly, her voice filled with compassion and understanding.

But Elio just looked up at the distant horizon, where the roars of battle echoed, his resolve hardening as he spoke again, his words filled with both sorrow and strength. "That’s why Arata’s doing this. Because he knows… sometimes, to conquer a beast, you have to respect it first."

As Angela’s gaze shifted back toward the battle, her heart swelled with a deeper understanding of the struggle unfolding before her—a clash not just of strength, but of respect, pride, and the desire to truly master the power within.