Looking at the mage before him — still trembling for all that he was wrapped in hides — Du Yi couldn't help shaking his head.
True, at the start, hearing that someone had stolen the mountain's beasts had put a bit of anger in him, but when this mage claimed it was the other savage doing the poaching, Du Yi was simply tickled — for in this day and age there surely couldn't be any trade in furs, which meant the sole purpose of poaching was to eat.
And just how much could one man eat? Even a few more men — how much could they eat?
What followed only bore out Du Yi's read: by the relentless way the mage pressed his attack, leaving the other savage not the slightest opening to speak, he was plainly trying to turn Du Yi against the other man, so Du Yi would flatten him with a swat of the tail.
If Du Yi were truly a snake, he might well have fallen for it — but Du Yi had been a man himself once, so how could he fail to see what was afoot?
This mage did have a glib tongue. But it was precisely because of that glib tongue that he'd overplayed his hand.
Not that Du Yi had any intention of killing the mage; he hadn't the slightest interest in meddling in these savages' grudges. He could see plainly enough that when this savage led the mage over, there'd already been a glint of murder in his eyes — since the two savages clearly had old scores between them, he'd let them settle it themselves.
What he was interested in was the pasture the two of them kept mentioning.
"Farm-raised, eh......"
Du Yi couldn't help recalling a time long, long ago.
That had been the last time he'd woken, when the savage called Lightbringer was still alive. Once they could converse smoothly, Lightbringer would often bring ingredients into the mountains — and Du Yi had to admit, the ingredients Lightbringer brought were several grades above the wild fare he hunted in the mountains.
The reason, naturally, was that those ingredients were all farm-raised.
Du Yi remembered that back when he was still a man, people all thought eating wild game was the finer thing, all believed wild fare was tastier than farm-raised — but now, after a side-by-side comparison, Du Yi could say for certain it was nothing of the sort.
Simply because wild and farm-raised evolve in entirely opposite directions.
Wild animals are all about survival — about standing up to a dangerous wilderness, about staying alive, about growing without end. To put it another way: a wild animal will never give a thought to making itself tasty.
Many wild animals will even actively make themselves unpalatable — like certain wild boars Du Yi had found, whose thick, foul-smelling tendons and hide so turned his stomach that he wouldn't even put them on his menu.
Which, in turn, gave those boars a chance at survival.
Of course, now and then a genetic mutation throws up an exception — like that litter of mammoths he'd hunted earlier, which looked wild but tasted far better than any farm-raised stock. But such cases are, in the end, vanishingly rare; to Du Yi's mind the odds were about as small as winning the lottery.
Broadly speaking, wild fare could never match farm-raised for taste.
For farm-raising and wild survival are utterly different. The savages hadn't set up pastures so the livestock could grow up hale and strong — from the very start, the whole point of herding these beasts was to grow them up and eat the meat.
Which meant that only the ones with the most meat, the best texture, got to breed on generation after generation in the pastures; the ones with little meat, or poor texture, had long since been weeded out at the breeding stage.
"A farm-raised sabertooth...... I never got to eat that back in the day, did I?"
Du Yi thought back; all those years ago, Lightbringer had only ever brought him mammoth meat — mammoth being his favorite, after all.
A farm-raised sabertooth, he truly had never tasted.
"Let's go take a look."
So Du Yi thought.
Since this mage had farm-raised sabertooths, then he'd take him up on it — and of course, he wouldn't really go mooching a free meal; he wasn't that sort.
Even if those sabertooths turned out to taste no better than ordinary, he'd still settle the bill.
"So — lead the way, let's go see these sabertooths you've raised...... I'll give you the payment you're due, and if they really do taste good, I might even put in a standing order."
"Yes! I'll take You there at once!"
The mage's head shot up in excitement, his whole face flushed crimson.
***
On the way out of the sacred mountain, the mage's heart surged.
Having to donate a whole pasture did give him a pang, but the thought of the reward he was about to receive made him feel it had all been worth it.
For the Snake God had promised him, with His own mouth, a reward.
This was a privilege his alone — the Snake God had promised a reward only to him; as for that deserter, he'd gotten nothing at all.
"Only I can receive the Snake God's grace — this is the very reason I am about to become the Sage King."
The mage's heart pounded; he scarcely dared imagine just what grace he might receive.
Picturing the grace to come, the mage's heart grew lighter, and even the deserter trailing along beside him began to look a good deal more agreeable.
After all, that deserter could never receive the Snake God's grace; the one who could become Sage King was him, and him alone.
***
In distant Ignis City, the king of the Ignis people was tending his wounds.
Deep within the palace, in a place only the king could enter, an enormous bathing pool was filled — not with clear spring water, but with limpid honey. One look at that tempting color and you knew it: only the tribute-bees reserved for the chieftain could yield honey of such quality.
Aching head to foot, David Day glanced at the honey — honey so lavish that even as a bestowed reward it would have been extravagant.
And then, with a single plunge, he dove into the pool.
In moments David Day's belly had swelled high, plainly already gorged with honey — yet he kept his body submerged in the honey all the same, letting it soak up the nutrients.
"Not enough...... still not enough."
Feeling his body nearly at its limit, David Day's eyes snapped open.
"Just this much...... is nowhere near enough!"
BOOM—
David Day surged to his feet.
His already towering frame had, in that instant, swelled a whole size larger.
A height so terrible, a build so vast — set even against the giants of the northern tundra, he was no less than their equal now, even faintly their better.
But it wasn't enough.
"Just this much isn't enough to stand level with a god.
"I need more. I have to grow bigger still!"
Recalling the vast snake-body he'd seen before, David Day drew a deep breath.
His challenge to the Snake God had failed, but that failure had also made one key thing clear to him.
That the ancestral teachings handed down by his forebears were, in fact, all of them incomplete.
The First ancestor had gained the power of magic from the Snake God, but having only spied it out, hadn't truly received the Snake God's teaching.
The Nineteenth Sage King had managed to commune with the Snake God, but had gained only a portion of His wisdom; it was only by later descendants' study of those old records that they'd grasped the principle that "the more you eat, the stronger you grow."
But this, too, was only something the Ignivas family had worked out for themselves — not the true power to rival a god.
What could let them stand level with a god had never been magic, and never been mere eating.
It was something else, something that cut straight to the essence.
"And that is...... bigness!"
Recalling that sky-blotting, terrible collision, David Day clenched his fist.
"Big is good!
"This is the very reason gods are mighty!"
Be big enough, and all magic, all fire-waves, became a joke; be big enough, and every so-called attack was no more than an ant's tickle.
Be big enough, and against tiny existences like them, you were already an all-powerful god.
"Not big enough...... I'm still not big enough!"
Looking at his fist, several sizes larger than a man's head, David Day clenched his teeth.
Yes — it all linked up now.
Be big enough and you could wield stronger magic; and to grow bigger, you had to eat enough......
Yes — eat enough.
Eating was the key to growing big.
And likewise the key to growing strong.
"More! I need more!"
Thinking this, David Day strode out.
"I have to eat still more!"