“Yes!”
All the Totem Warriors simultaneously threw their heads back toward the dark sky and unleashed a massive, gut-wrenching roar of grief and martial fury.
“Yes! Glory to the Sharu!” the rest of the tribe echoed with despair and reverence, dropping to their knees.
“Ha!!!”
The Totem Warriors standing around the dais let out a deep, unified, rumbling battle cry.
In a fraction of a second, the Totem Mark on every single warrior's body flared with a blinding, scarlet light. Complex, blood-red patterns ignited beneath their skin, instantly covering their chests, sculpted abdomens, and massive backs with a pulsating glow.
“Do you see, my child? These are our true Totem Warriors.” Even standing on the precipice of death, the Sharu did not cease passing on his invaluable knowledge, explaining in a raspy whisper straight into her ear:
“They are the ones who use their own flesh to hold the line against the most terrifying Wild Beasts in the depths of the forest. With every single strike, they can unleash the inhuman force of a charging ox, effortlessly crushing the bones and skulls of monsters with their bare hands.”
The elder took a ragged breath and continued with precise classification:
“All Totem Warriors in this world are divided into three fundamental classes: the Stone Class, the higher Bronze Class, and the mighty Silver Class. Each of these great tiers is further divided into four minor stages of progression: the Early Stage, Middle Stage, Late Stage, and the ultimate Peak Stage. Unfortunately, all the current hunters in our decimated clan are merely Stone Class Warriors.
“To gauge their true strength, you must always look closely at the spread of their Totemic Marks. As long as the red pattern does not cross their shoulders and spread down to their hands and feet, the warrior remains in the Stone Class. However, if the Totem Mark spreads thickly over their neck, nape, and cheeks, you are looking at an elite Silver Class Warrior… As for whether there are even more powerful beings beyond the Silver Class, our Ancestors left no clear records on the hides, and in all my eighty-plus years of life, I have never laid eyes on a Silver Class Warrior myself.”
As he spoke, a boundless, historical sorrow for the lost might of bygone eras painted his fading gaze.
“Sharu, please, that is more than enough… Sit down and rest before your strength fails you completely,” Elizabeth said in a hoarse, tight voice.
Over the course of this single, intense day spent in the tent, she had been moved to her very core by this old man's unyielding spirit, iron will, and boundless sacrifice for the good of his people.
“Do not worry for me, child… I have but one final step left to take on this earth, and then I will finally be able to embrace the eternal, long-awaited rest at the side of my loved ones.”
The elder smiled at her with such profound, incredible warmth and peace that it felt as though the emotion alone possessed the power to move mountain ranges.
“Ha!!!” the Totem Warriors roared once more with the full force of their burning lungs. In perfect synchrony, they began their ancient, ritualistic war dance.
They spread their muscular arms wide, took massive, heavy, stomping steps, and bent their supple waists low. Then, with all their might, they raised their bare feet and slammed them into the packed earth with a deafening thud, kicking up clouds of dust as they dynamically thrust their hands toward the sky, circling the wooden dais in tight formation.
“…”
Holding her breath, Elizabeth observed every single movement of the dancing warriors with absolute focus. She quickly perceived a complex, repetitive pattern hidden within the apparent savagery - their synchronized gestures and the tension in their muscles looked exactly as if they were mimicking the behavior, the hunt, and the combat of some gigantic, mythical Wild Beast.
“Show the sacred blood!” the Sharu suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, raising both hands toward the stars.
“Ha!”
The Totem Warriors unleashed a third, deafening, guttural battle cry that made the earth beneath the dais tremble, the echo carrying far into the dark forest.
In that exact fraction of a second, without exception, every hunter drew a sharp stone knife from their leather belt in one fluid, practiced motion. With a lightning-fast, merciless slash, they cut open the palms of their hands.
Hot, steaming scarlet blood immediately gushed from the wounds.
“Commence the Succession Ceremony!” the Sharu bellowed once more, pouring every last ounce of his will to live into those words.
The Totem Warriors raised their bleeding hands high and waved them toward the wooden platform in a solemn gesture that looked simultaneously like a sacred salute and a final, heartbreaking farewell to their departing guide.
“Sacred Ancestors, look upon us and protect our tribe!” the elder cried out, raising his arms to the heavens.
In that very moment, the elder's frail body erupted in a blinding, warm orange light that blazed from within him like a roaring furnace.
Instead of dripping onto the earth, the blood of the Totem Warriors lifted into the air in the form of hundreds of scarlet droplets, as if violently pulled by a massive, invisible magnetic force. It then streamed directly toward the Sharu standing on the dais.
The moment the first stream of blood pierced the aura surrounding him, the entire phenomenon underwent a violent, drastic transformation. The orange light instantly shifted into a deep, bloody, fiery crimson, writhing and howling like wild flames whipped by a gale.
The more warrior blood the luminous barrier absorbed, the more deathly pale, waxy, and lifeless the Sharu's complexion became. His usually sharp, fiery eyes rapidly dulled, losing the last vestiges of consciousness as dark blood slowly trickled from the corners of his cracked lips.
“THE TOTEM APPEARS!” the elder roared with his dying breath. His voice no longer sounded human; it was like thunder tearing through the night.
As those mighty words struck the air, the Sharu's forehead flared with a blinding, bloody radiance.
A long, dense stream of wondrous, burning symbols shot from his brow. Spinning at breakneck speed, they began to merge and materialize in the air, forming a majestic, ethereal entity resembling a Four-Armed Woman of proud stature.
The spectral figure held strange, sharp weapons forged of congealed scarlet blood in each of her four slender hands, and a massive, blazing crown of living fire burned above her lifted head.
Elizabeth instantly recognized the mesmerizing, writhing symbols - it was undoubtedly the Sharu Script she had seen on the sacred scrolls in the chest.
This illusory, yet terrifyingly tangible creature was none other than the incarnate Totem of the Blood Fire Tribe.
The Totem, forged entirely of pulsating Sharu Script, stepped slowly, with unearthly grace, into the fiery crimson light surrounding the elder. Like a luminous serpent, it began to swim and coil around his hunched body.
Cough, cough…
The Sharu coughed violently, expelling thick clots of blood from his mouth that heavily stained his long white beard a macabre red.
“Sharu!” Elizabeth screamed in terror.
She instinctively tried to spring to her feet to catch him, but in that same moment, she was pressed firmly back into the boards with surprising strength by the elder's icy, trembling hand.
“Do not move… I beg you, sit still… We have only one decisive step left,” the Sharu shook his head weakly, fighting through supreme exhaustion. Only pure, unadulterated determination still flickered in his fading gaze.
Slowly, with inhuman effort, he raised his other hand and grasped the Totem swirling around him right by its burning essence.
In response, the entire massive, blood-red light that had surrounded his silhouette violently contracted. It was sucked straight into his palm, where it condensed and automatically formed into an incredibly dense, pulsating sphere of pure light, no larger than a human thumb.
“This is the entirety of the Sharu Inheritance… The whole truth of the ancient Sharu Script and the deepest, primal secret of the Totem are forever contained within,” the elder whispered, struggling to hold the blinding sphere of light between his trembling fingers.
With a slow, inexorable motion, he began to bring it directly toward the smooth forehead of the motionless Elizabeth.
As the burning sphere touched her skin, a quiet hiss echoed in the air. Through the girl's fading senses, the elder's final whisper, brimming with fatherly love, rang out:
“I leave my entire beloved Blood Fire Tribe in your care…”
That was the last thing Elizabeth managed to hear and register before a massive, mind-shattering wave of mystical knowledge and searing heat tore into her brain. Her body went completely limp, slumping against the wooden boards of the platform as she instantly lost consciousness, plunging into deep, impenetrable darkness.