The chase concluded with a dining experience.
That evening, the entire occasion ended with the selection of around 100 kilograms of the best pieces of Oxbear at.
The n of Balak selected the finest cuts of at and hung them on a tall tree, a distance away from the town.
When Vikir appeared confused, Aiyen figured it out.
"It's a sacrifice to Mada Eight Legs."
Vikir nodded slightly.
He had encountered Mada Eight-Legged once before, in the darkness of the jungle.
An unspeakable monster. A creature of untold horror that no man could survive.
The people of Balak seed to use parts of their dead prey, or the bodies of their prisoners of war, as sacrifices, nailed to tall trees.
Curiously, no animals were interested in the at the Balak n hung from the tree.
Hyenas, vultures, and even the occasional insect were not attracted to the at.
They wouldn't even entertain the idea of touching it because they knew to whom it belonged.
"I wonder if the heroes of Baskerville and Morg were also sacrificed to Mada Eight-Legged long ago?
It seed plausible, given the non-human culture of the Balak.
The next day at sunrise.
Vikir rose early and padded out of his tent.
On the way, he noticed a group of drunken Balak champions sleeping in the early morning dew.
Vikir was careful not to step on them, and soon he was walking towards the outskirts of town.
His body was healing faster each day.
And he would need more food if he wanted to recover quickly.
The at, blood, and innards of the oxbear were not enough, so Vikir traveled to the outskirts of the town to find nourishnt for himself.
As a slave, he didn't expect to be allowed to leave the town, but the guards at the gate were surprisingly willing to let him go.
"What are you, a slave, wandering around alone because you did well in the hunt?"
The guard, Ahun, glared at Vikir's audacity but didn't restrain him.
"You don't think you're afraid of the jungle just because you've killed a dying bear, Kek, get out and die."
Ahun waved him off, and Vikir ventured into the wilderness, pondering.
Eventually, Vikir reached the tall tree where he had hung his offering the previous night.
"...!"
Vikir's eyes widened slightly.
Sure enough, the hundred kilograms of at that he had hung on the tall tree was gone.
The disappearance of the at ant that its owner had co and gone, although the wild animals, birds, and insects that road nearby had not seed interested in approaching it.
The area was filled with white, dried sli and scorched, dead grass.
"... ... That's a fearso demon."
Vikir turned away from the spot and headed towards a nearby stream.
A stream of muddy water.
There was no boundary between water and ground.
Only overgrown plants and prickly leaves marked the stream's boundaries.
Vikir climbed a high branch and unraveled his line.
He took out the longest, toughest strand of Oxbear's fur and used it as a fishing line.
At its end was a hook carved from the oxbear's scavenged bones.
Vikir bit the tip of his finger gently to draw blood and splashed it into the stream.
The reaction was imdiate.
Bubbling, gurgling, foaming... ...
Judging from the bubbling bubbles on the surface of the tan water, it had worked.
Vikir threaded a frog that had been wandering nearby onto a fishing guide and cast it into the center of the foam.
The bite was imdiate.
... Tsk!
A fish with teeth as sharp as saw blades snapped off the line.
.
Risk rating (individual): D
Risk rating (group): A
Size: 30cm
Found in: Edge 6, Dark and Red Mountains
-Travels in groups of typically two or three thousand individuals.
When alone, they are timid and shy, but in a group, they will charge at even the largest of foes.
They are sensitive to the sll of blood and will gather in deep pools in rivers, and when they catch the scent of their prey, they will swarm away, leaving only the bones.
The frog used as bait was destroyed, but the oxbear's fur and bones were intact, as were the line and hook.
A fish with a black body and a red belly.
When Vikir caught it, he threaded it onto a spiky branch.
The next bait was a small piece of flesh from the fish he had just caught.
The Nateri were even more eager now that they were consuming at from their own kind as bait.
One, two, three, four... ... fish continued to co.
So were over 70 centiters long, with black or white bodies and red eyes.
"They must be tough to catch."
Vikir muttered as he looked down at the natteri, their gills pierced by long reeds.
They were originally sensitive only to human blood and the flesh of their kind.
Human blood, especially if it has been infused with so degree of mana, is a pri target.
The hunters of Balak don't seem to realize this, so Vikir simply piles up the food quietly.
Vikir then cooked the nateri over a low fire of fallen leaves and sticks.
He ate so, smoked so, and used them to make fish balls.
By the ti he had gathered freshwater crabs and zaras crawling along the stream banks and stocked up on food, the morning sun had risen.
"...?"
As he returned to the town with a bag full of food made from leaves, he saw an odd sight.
In the center of town, in front of Boss Aquila's garrison huts, there was a long line of people.
"What's that?"
Vikir scratched his head.
There were no fewer than thirty people lined up before the clan leader's dwelling.
Interestingly, all thirty were young won.
"Is this so kind of ceremony?"
Regardless, to reach the military enclosure, he would have to pass by this line.
Unaware of Vikir's approach from behind, the young won chattered amongst themselves.
"I've been in line since dawn, thank God I'm near the front."
"I even spent the night here!"
"Too bad. I should have gotten up a little earlier."
Vikir listened, still trying to make sense of it all.
Sothing didn't quite add up about their conversation.
"Given your performance at the last hunting festival, you're probably going to escape without punishnt, right?"
"Then obviously you'll take a woman in the village as a mate?"
"I'll talk to the chief and make sure I'm first to apply."
"I saw you carving up the at yesterday, and it was so good."
"You must be strong to take down an oxbear."
"How handso."
Vikir shuffled away.
"????"
An instinctual warning passes through him before he fully comprehends what's happening.
Vikir is about to turn away.
"These are real!"
He hears a loud cry.
Thirty or so won step back, startled.
Where their gazes were directed, Aiyen stood, her eyes gleaming
.
She was carrying three freshly killed roe deer.
She threw them to the ground and addressed the won of the town.
"'What nonsense,' she said to the won, 'I fed you yesterday at the brew house, and now you're trying to steal from at the last minute!'"
Then, one of the won gathered the courage to speak up.
"Then use it first (?) and then hand it over!"
"Quiet down, you're not talking to a child's slave anymore!"
"Monopolies are awful!"
"If you're so desperate, go out there with a noose and catch him!"
"I've been out many tis and there's never been a boy like that!"
"How far have you been out?"
"To the borders of the realm!"
"You could go out through the gate and find him!"
Aiyen shouted, drawing her knife from her inner thigh.
Then the won in the line began to retreat.
Even the bravest of Balak's won fear Aiyen, the hunting leader.
No wonder, since conflicts with her go beyond hair-pulling and nail-tearing.
Watching the won slink away, Aiyen grunted fiercely.
"Sh*t. If this keeps up, soone will get hurt while I'm waiting for them to heal. I can't trust a bitch like Sagal. I need her to get better soon so she can give an explanation... ... ... "
She turned away, muttering to herself.
Aiyen and Vikir's eyes t.
Vikir, who had been inadvertently hiding behind the tent, tensed.
He hadn't done anything wrong, but he had been seen.
However, it was Aiyen who seed more agitated than Vikir.
".... Look, did you see that?"
"...."
"Hmmm. No."
"...."
"...Khhhh."
An awkward silence fell between them.
Finally, Aiyen scratched her neck and stepped closer.
She's almost a foot taller than Vikir.
Aiyen stepped closer and looked down at Vikir.
When she spoke, he could sll the pleasant scent of tree berries mixed with her warm breath.
"The other night, Mother convened a eting of the Elders."
"...."
"Among the many things on the agenda was your story."
From everything she had said to him before, it was traditionally reserved for those who caught and presented the largest ga in the hunting system to be freed from slavery.
But now, it seems, the reward is more than just a piece of cotton fabric.
"Listen, you can ask my mother for sothing. As a fair hunter of the past slaughter."
Aiyen turned to Vikir.
"She will probably try to match you with a mate."
An outsider, a bonded slave.
The only way to keep such a valuable individual in the clan is to know who they will be paired with.
"... ... I wonder if that's why those won were lined up all morning."
Vikir murmured softly.
anwhile, Aiyen narrowed her eyes and asked in a gentle tone.
"You. Do you have a mate in mind in this clan?"
... There can't be.
His body is broken, he's in enemy territory, and he's been fighting dangerous creatures this whole ti.
As Vikir shook his head firmly, Aiyen's expression softened.
It was a mixture of anger and resignation, of relief and apprehension.
... Tuck!
Aiyen threw her arms around Vikir's shoulders.
Though her strength areas for dominance, she gently lowered her hands when they reached Vikir's shoulders.
Aiyen leaned close to Vikir's ear and spoke in a soft tone.
"Later, when my mother calls for you, I will decide what you will ask from her."
Her eyes glead.
"What should I ask for... ... "
She looked as if she were planning so kind of trick or another.
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