Scar was dead!
For his tribe, this was unimaginable. Scar was almost worshipped as a god—a being apart from others. But now, that being lay lifeless, his blood soaking his body, a spear lodged in his throat. Scar, true to his name, had died drenched in crimson.
Scar, the Color of Blood, now literally.
"Hey! Didn't you say the chief would win? Then why is he like this, Anibal?!" Qin shouted. His voice echoed the disbelief and confusion of the entire tribe.
From the elders and the named warriors to the lowest-ranking members, the air was thick with anxiety and turmoil. Some were frozen in shock; others edged forward, ready to attack.
All except one.
"Enough!!!" Snow's voice cut through the chaos.
"My father, the former chief, lost. Simple as that. Now we belong to Alex. Like it or not, that's the truth. We lost in a duel both agreed to. If my father had won, Alex would be dead, and his tribe would be ours. But that's not what happened. So accept it and bow your heads now!" Snow declared.
Despite her anger and conflicting emotions, Snow acted with logic, far more rationally than Anibal, who remained paralyzed by the outcome. But her words snapped him back to reality.
"Bow your heads," another voice commanded.
It wasn't Snow who spoke this time—it was Jack.
Known as Jack the Savage, he was infamous for his brutality and wild nature. Yet, of all people, it was Jack who ordered submission.
Hearing Jack's words, Snow bowed her head to Alex. Anibal followed, though hesitantly. The other named warriors soon mirrored their leaders, and after them, the elders. With their leaders bowing, the rest of Scar's tribe followed, submitting to Alex.
Alex had won, but his victory came at a great cost. He had defeated Scar but lost an arm in the process—a price he would bear forever.
Alex's tribe erupted with cheers as Scar's tribe lowered their heads in submission. Some of them even wished Fred, the leader of the artists, were there to immortalize the scene in a painting:
A one-armed warrior standing over the lifeless body of a giant red beast with a spear impaled in its throat, while the beast's subordinates bowed in surrender.
It was magnificent. Even majestic.
"Hahaha! Look at you all! That's right, bow your heads! You're ours now!" Max shouted, taunting Scar's tribe.
Though they kept their heads down, the anger of Scar's warriors simmered.
"Max! Silence!" Alex exclaimed, his voice sharp and commanding.
Then, addressing Scar's tribe, he spoke: "Take Scar's body and bury him. Tomorrow, the named warriors and elders will come to my tent. Until then, you're dismissed."
With that, Alex turned and walked back to his tent. He had lost an arm, but he had gained an entire tribe.