Inside the cave, the quiet was broken only by the flicker of firelight.
Amy sat in silence, a twinge of envy coiling in her chest. As a former priest of the Red River Tribe, her abilities had always leaned toward sensing danger—passive and defensive. At times, she had felt more like a ceremonial figure than a real protector.
Tia, on the other hand, now possessed combat-oriented powers—something far more tangible, especially within a rising totem tribe.
When Amy spoke her thoughts aloud, Tia tilted her head in confusion. "But… I've always been a warrior of the tribe. How could I have totem power?"
Enzo rolled his eyes. "Don't overthink it. Just get used to it and start training. Once the new combat team is formed, you'll be leading them. They'll be the backbone of the Crimson Star Tribe's defense."
Tia's amber eyes lit up. She nodded enthusiastically.
Turning to Amy, Enzo asked, "What do you think about the Chagga Tribe?"
Amy had already sensed what he was planning. "If you want to absorb them," she said softly, "the quickest way is to kill their priest. Once he's gone, panic will spread, and you'll have the chance to recruit their people."
Enzo nodded. It aligned with his own thinking.
But infiltrating the Chagga Tribe to assassinate their priest was suicide—unless someone on the inside made the move.
Clara.
With that, Enzo left the cave. On the way, he picked up two strips of boar jerky and walked to the holding cave where Clara was kept.
Inside, Clara was struggling against her restraints. Her injuries hadn't fully healed, and each movement cost her pain, but she bore it in silence.
She was a tenacious one.
Enzo crouched beside her. "Do something for me," he said. "And in return, I'll offer you freedom… and something more. Power."
Clara looked up, eyes narrowing. "You think I'm that naïve?"
Enzo didn't flinch. "I'm offering you the power of the totem. You've seen what it can do."
Clara didn't answer at first. But at the mention of the totem, her breathing quickened—just slightly.
The power of the totem was a thing of legend, on par with priestly inheritance. It could elevate warriors beyond mortal limits.
"You've already seen it," Enzo added.
Clara's brow furrowed. "You mean… the girl who dragged me back?"
Enzo smirked. "Tia. Young, smaller than you—but she could've killed you if she wanted."
That hit its mark. Clara's eyes flicked downward, thoughtful. She stayed silent for several long seconds.
Then finally, she met his gaze. "What do you want me to do?"
"No rush," Enzo replied smoothly. "I don't trust you yet. But your reaction tells me all I need to know—for now."
Clara didn't argue. "Then at least release me from these vines."
Enzo agreed. He had no reason to worry—Clara was still dependent on the divine art that had kept her from death. Without further healing, her body couldn't sustain itself.
He stood and undid the restraints.
Clara rose slowly, her expression unreadable. She met his gaze, her voice casual but edged. "You've been staring a lot. Want to reach out and claim your prize?"
Enzo blinked, then gave a short laugh. "Later, maybe. For now, you're free to move about the camp—but no questions. In two days, I'll give you the full plan. If you're still here by then, I'll know where you stand."
As he turned to leave, curiosity caught him. "You didn't hesitate at the thought of killing your priest. Why?"
Clara looked away. "He ordered my parents executed."
"Why?"
"They were injured protecting others. Mauled by a Silver-Backed Bear. Couldn't walk anymore. He said they were a drain on resources."
Enzo didn't reply. In this world, such reasoning was grimly logical. He'd seen enough to know this was the cost of survival in a savage age.
Later, outside the cave, Clara didn't follow Enzo.
Instead, she wandered the camp, inspecting the blast furnaces and the new farmland. Her eyes lingered on the fired clay structures, the neat rows of sprouting crops—signs of something different, something rising.
Sovita approached Enzo. "Lord Priest… what's going on with her?"
"She's cooperating," Enzo said plainly. "She's agreed to assassinate the Chagga Tribe's priest."
Sovita was stunned. "Truly?"
"If Crue dies," Enzo added, "we'll have a real chance to absorb their people."
Still, the elder looked uneasy. "Can she be trusted?"
Enzo shrugged. "That's what we'll find out. I gave her two days. If she volunteers more intel before then, we'll know she's serious."
Sovita nodded slowly. He didn't fully understand—but he trusted the priest's vision.
That night, the tribe gathered as usual around the fire.
Laughter and low songs echoed into the jungle. Some chewed on leathery jerky, others whispered in shadows, keeping traditions alive. Life, hard and uncertain, still found its rhythm.
Enzo sat with Amy by his side. Her fox tail rested limply in his hand, and though she flushed at the touch, she didn't pull away. She was learning to accept it—learning to trust.
Nearby, Tia was training.
The totem power flowing through her had become clearer—Boar Strength. It gave her incredible might, but only for brief bursts. Right now, she was testing its limits, pushing herself to exhaustion.
She had to prove she was worthy of leading the tribe's new combat team. And Enzo had promised roasted potatoes to the top performers.
Then, Clara appeared again, seating herself beside Enzo without invitation, legs crossed, watching the flames.
She turned slightly and spoke in a low voice. "The priest of the Chagga Tribe is named Crue. Others call him Head Cutter. He inherited wind-based priest powers—he can summon invisible blades sharp enough to sever a beast's head in a single strike."
Enzo's expression turned thoughtful.
Clara continued, "He doesn't use it often anymore… but he's still deadly. If you want to kill him, you'll need a plan."