Beast Reborn : I will claim my throne back

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The deafening roar of the packed Hong Kong Arena filled the frigid night air with a frenetic energy, electrifying the thousands packing the massive stadium. Their illuminated faces gazed upon the stark, otherworldly battleground beneath the artificial lights—a fortified ring surrounded by high barrier walls to shield spectators from the brutal forces soon to clash within.

Outside the ring stood Ragnar, reigning Champion XIII. His piercing gaze swept meticulously over every detail, from eager faces in the crowd to banners emblazoned with his armored title. Every calculated step radiated a calm confidence born from countless victories, from beasts mastered and foes dominated.

Yet an edge sharpened Ragnar's eyes tonight. He knew this opponent unlike any before—the ambitious challenger Vaalar waiting obscured in shadows across the ring. Ragnar's gaze shifted briefly to a young girl in the front row,sharp features and intense eyes like Vaalar's staring back with equal parts awe and anxiety. Vaalar's daughter. Ragnar's fists tightened perceiving her, knowing this match meant more than glory—it was for legacy.

A hush fell over the swelling crowd as the booming voice of the announcer echoed throughout the sprawling arena. "Tonight, we bear witness to a clash between two legends! Will the undefeated Champion XIII retain his title once more, or will the fierce and ambitious challenger Vaalar seize victory and claim the crown as his own?"

The throng erupted with frenzied anticipation, yet Ragnar's focus had already narrowed to the circular combat grounds and the formidable foe soon to face him within.

Vaalar strode forward with a jet black beast beside him unlike any Ragnar had witnessed before. Its muscled form was sheathed in gleaming obsidian scales, eyes that blazed like smoldering coals, every exhalation leaving faint scorch marks in the dirt. Gasps rang out across the stands as some whispered in awe-struck murmurs. This creature wasn't merely fierce—it was wildly unstable, utterly unpredictable, radiating barely contained power that seemed to pulse through its massive frame like the beat of a drum.

Though unease flickered at the edges of his mind, Ragnar did not let it show. Instead, he studied Vaalar intently. Young, confident, ambitious—yet a sharp, calculated edge lingered in his gaze, a hunger Ragnar knew all too well from his own past, fighting tirelessly to make his name known and prove himself against all others. But something darker lurked behind Vaalar's eyes, a ruthlessness that caused Ragnar to ponder who might be aiding his meteoric rise.

As Vaalar met his assessing stare, Ragnar offered a nod of respect between adversaries. He was aware this fight would be no simple contest, only serving to stoke the flames of his resolve. Summoning his own beast into the arena, a creature of lithe, corded muscle with shimmering silver fur and keen, intelligent eyes. The profound bond between them was evident, forged through years of companionship and struggles weathered side by side.

The beastmaster's horn bellowed, piercing the tense silence that hung heavy over the packed coliseum. In a flurry of fur and claws, the monstrous predators collided with a bone-rattling impact that sent shockwaves rippling through the sand. Ragnar directed his mount with icy precision, issuing commands in an unwavering tone that conveyed his will as though they shared one mind. His beast wove between its adversaries with liquid grace, its movements flowing and premeditated like an intricate dance through the mayhem.

Vaalar unleashed his beast with savage ferocity, spurring it into a berserk onslaught of crushing blows that made the arena quake. Ragnar watched attentively as Vaalar harassed his charge with a barrage of erratic orders, ruthlessly exploiting its brute might without restraint. Yet for all its brutality, subtle signs hinted at ebbing stamina - labored respiration and a slight stumble in its step.

As the duel wore on, Ragnar began responding to Vaalar's every maneuver with faultless anticipation, foreseeing assaults and guiding his mount to capitalize on openings. Spectators held their breath as Ragnar's beast sprang into motion, slamming into Vaalar's with a shattering hit that left it reeling.

Desperation gripped Vaalar, and with a roar he commanded his beast to unleash a forbidden technique - a move sacrificing vitality for one final, powerful assault. Gasps rippled through the coliseum at the sight of Vaalar's beast beginning to glow, its scales turning an ominous crimson hue.

Ragnar's eyes narrowed calculatively as his mind raced, having faced such techniques before and knowing the risks. He directed his mount to evade, then struck at the perfect instant, countering with a series precision strikes that left Vaalar's beast tottering unsteadily.

With a final, decisive command, Ragnar's beast delivered a crushing blow, knocking Vaalar's beast to the ground. The deafening cheers of thousands erupted as Ragnar stood victorious in the stadium, his title secure once more as Champion XIII.

As Ragnar raised his arms in triumph, the crowd's admiration swelled into a deafening roar. His name echoed through the night as it was chanted by thousands. Though this should have been a moment of pure celebration, culminating his long efforts, an unease grew within him. Among the revelry, Ragnar caught glimpses of familiar faces exchanging glances—old allies, trainers, even rivals, their expressions inscrutable.

Leaving the ring with his loyal beast trailing behind, he noticed a lone figure lingering at the arena's edge. The silhouette was unmistakably his father, watching with an intensity that sent a shiver down Ragnar's spine. In his father's cold, calculating gaze was no pride or applause—only a hollow victory. Before he could approach, Ragnar was ushered away by his team and fans into a blur of congratulations and interviews, his father disappearing into the crowd as an ominous feeling took hold.

Back in the locker room as he removed his gear, the unease deepened. Though the arena's hum was muffled here, it felt suffocating. Just as he began to relax, a flicker of movement caught his eye in the shadows. Tensing, he scanned the room but found nothing. A faint whisper reached him from an unseen voice, murmuring words that echoed ominously in his mind: "This is only the beginning, Ragnar. You may have won tonight, but your reign will soon end."

Ragnar strode through the empty hall, unsettled by the night's strange turn of events. His victory had roused darker undercurrents, and a nameless dread gnawed at the edges of his heart. Something sinister lurked in the shadows beyond, its form shrouded but its malice palpable.

As he exited the towering arena, an eerie sensation prickled the back of Ragnar's neck. He halted and glanced over his shoulder, scanning the dense gloom for any sign of watcher's eyes. None greeted his wary gaze, yet still the feeling lingered that unseen forces observed his every move from the concealing black.