We arrived at the village around sunset.
When the villagers saw us bringing four prisoners, the village was thrown into an uproar. People ran out of the pit houses, stopped what they were doing, and all looked at us.
"Prisoners! The Chieftain has brought back prisoners!"
A man shouted.
"They are Tiger Tribe bastards! Look at those tattoos!"
A woman said.
"They are definitely Tiger Tribe!"
"The Chieftain captured them!"
People gathered around. In an instant, about forty people had assembled. It seemed the entire village had come out.
Anger and fear were mixed in their eyes. Some people clenched their fists, and others picked up stones. The mood grew fierce, and hatred filled the people's faces.
"We suffered because of those bastards!"
A man shouted.
"They killed my husband!"
A woman wailed.
"Kill them!"
Someone shouted. A woman picked up a stone. A middle-aged woman with cloth wrapped around her head. Her eyes were bloodshot.
"My family died because of those bastards! My son died! We have to take revenge!"
She shouted.
The people stepped forward. One step, then two. Toward the prisoners. The prisoners backed away, frightened.
"We have to take revenge!"
The mood grew savage. Killing intent entered the people's eyes, and someone looked as if he might throw a stone.
I raised my hand.
"Be quiet."
I put strength into my voice. Loud and clear. So it would ring through the entire village. A voice from deep within. A sound from my chest.
The people grew quiet, stopped, and looked into my eyes. Movement stopped, and sound vanished. The authority of the chieftain. The weight of command.
"They are prisoners. We do not kill them carelessly. No one is to touch them without my order."
I declared.
"But Chieftain...! Those bastards attacked our tribe! They killed our families!"
A man protested. A tall man. A hunter.
His face was full of rage. His voice trembled with a mixture of grief and anger.
"There are rules in war. If we kill prisoners, we will also be killed if we are captured. If we abuse prisoners, the Tiger Tribe will abuse our prisoners as well. Then war becomes even more brutal. There will be no end."
I spoke calmly. There was no Geneva Convention here, but the basic principle of war existed. Reciprocity. I treat you as you treat me.
"...."
The people said nothing. But they seemed to understand, and I saw some of them nod. Their anger subsided a little.
"We will obtain information from them. When the Tiger Tribe will attack, how many they have. Only then can we prepare. Information is a weapon. Knowing the enemy is the way to win."
I explained. The basics of The Art of War. If you know the enemy and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles.
The people stirred, but they did not object, and they nodded.
"The Chieftain is right. We need information."
A man said.
"Yes, let us obtain information first and deal with them later."
Another man agreed.
"Solid Rock, lock them up. Make sure they cannot escape. Put them in a sturdy pit house and guard them from outside."
I instructed.
"Understood. I will guard them myself."
Solid Rock lowered his head and struck his chest. His sense of responsibility was strong.
"Give them food too. Do not starve them."
I added.
"Pardon? Feed them?"
Solid Rock was surprised. His eyes widened, and his expression said he could not believe it.
"If we starve them, they will grow weak, and we will not be able to obtain information. Feed them moderately. Just enough so they do not die. There is no need to let them eat their fill."
I explained. Minimum nutrition. Enough to maintain health. To obtain information, the prisoners had to be in a condition where they could speak.
"Understood. But it does feel wasteful. Giving food to enemies."
Solid Rock nodded, though his expression was displeased.
"It cannot be helped. It is a necessary evil."
I shrugged.
The prisoners were taken away. Solid Rock and two warriors escorted them. The prisoners walked with their heads lowered, the gait of the defeated.
I set down the sacks of ore. The heavy sacks fell to the ground with a thud, raising dust.
"Ngh. That was heavy."
My shoulders ached. My muscles were stiff, and my bones throbbed. My stamina had improved through leveling up, but even so, there were limits.
"This is copper ore. We brought it from the western mountain today."
I showed the sacks to the people. I opened them, and the blue stones were revealed.
"Ohhh!"
The people crowded around and examined the copper ore. They touched the pieces one by one, felt their weight, and checked the color.
"This is copper? It is blue!"
A man asked.
"How fascinating!"
A woman said.
Ding!
『Copper Ore Transport Complete』
→ Copper Ore x47 stored
→ Mass Bronze Weapon Production Available
"With this, we can make more bronze weapons. Knives, spearheads, arrowheads. I will give weapons to every warrior. All twelve will be armed with bronze weapons. Then we will become stronger than the Tiger Tribe."
I declared to the people. Twelve warriors. All with bronze weapons. Knives, spears, arrows. Fully armed. Then the Tiger Tribe's stone weapons would not be able to match us.
"Hurrah!"
"Bronze weapons!"
"Long live the Chieftain!"
"Long live the Peregrine Tribe!"
Cheers burst out. The people jumped up, embraced each other, and rejoiced. Children ran around, women laughed, and men shouted. The entire village cheered. Hope. The hope of victory.
That evening, Mother came to see me.
The face of Mother as she entered the pit house was full of worry. The wrinkles lit by the campfire looked deeper than usual.
Mother entered slowly, leaning on her cane. Her back was bent, her steps were slow, and her age showed.
"Son."
"Yes, Mother."
I stood and greeted her. I held her hand, supported her, and helped her sit.
"You returned safely."
"Yes, Mother."
"You fought?"
Mother's voice did not tremble, but worry was buried in it. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were uneasy.
"Yes. We ran into a scouting party. There was no choice. We could not avoid it. They discovered us."
I explained the situation briefly and omitted the details.
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
Mother examined my body. My arms, legs, face, one by one. She touched me with her hands, searched for wounds, and looked for blood. Her touch was warm, and I could feel worry in her fingertips.
"No. Everyone is safe."
I answered.
Mother examined my face, and her hand stroked my cheek. It was a warm hand.
Her hands, hardened by long labor, were rough, but a mother's touch was gentle.
"...You truly have changed."
Mother let out a deep sigh. A sigh mixed with sorrow.
"Pardon?"
I looked at Mother.
"The old you would not have fought seven men. You would have run. Because you were timid. No, because you were cautious."
Mother said. She remembered the old Black Panther. Her son, who had been timid, indecisive, and avoided battle.
"...."
I had nothing to say. Mother was right.
"But now you fought, won, and even brought back prisoners. On top of that, with almost no wounded."
Surprise mixed into Mother's voice. Her tone said she could hardly believe it.
"It was necessary. There was no choice."
I answered. It was not an excuse. It was the truth. If we had not fought, we would have died. If we had run, we would have lost everything.
"I know. I am not saying it is bad."
Mother let out a deep sigh. A sigh from her chest. Old sorrow.
"Your father was like that too. If it was necessary, he did anything. For the tribe. He did not refuse dangerous work either. That was why...."
"...."
I knew what Mother was going to say next. I knew even without her saying it.
"That was why he died young."
Tears gathered in Mother's eyes. Reddened eyes. Trembling lips. An old wound. A wound that still hurt.
"Mother...."
My chest hurt. I could feel Mother's sorrow and her fear. Mother was afraid of losing her son.
"Be careful. Do not be reckless. If you die, I... What am I supposed to do?"
Mother said. Her voice trembled, her throat choked, and tears flowed. One drop, then two. They ran down her wrinkled cheeks.
"Understood. I will never die. I promise."
I spoke firmly. Looking at Mother. I met her eyes and put sincerity into my words.
Mother left. Her back looked lonely. A hunched back. Slow steps. The sound of her cane. A figure gradually growing farther away.
I let out a sigh.
'Mother knows too. She knows I have changed.'
But it could not be helped. To protect the tribe, I had to change. A weak chieftain could not protect the tribe. I had to become strong. I had to become cold-headed. I had to make decisions. To survive.
That night, I had the prisoner Sharp Tooth brought in.
A campfire burned inside the pit house. Tension lay on Sharp Tooth's face in the firelight. His hands were still bound, and his eyes moved uneasily.
He looked around. It seemed he was searching for torture tools. He examined the walls, looked at the spear, and looked at the sword. He saw the iron skewer placed beside the campfire, and seemed afraid that he would be burned with it.
"Sit."
I pointed to the seat opposite the campfire. With the fire between us.
"...."
Sharp Tooth slowly sat. Kneeling carefully. Since his hands were tied, it seemed difficult for him to keep his balance. His posture looked uncomfortable, and he shifted his body here and there.
"There is something we need to discuss."
I spoke calmly.
I lowered my voice so it would not sound threatening, but my tone was firm.
"What?"
His voice trembled. His lips were dry, and his voice cracked.
"Tell me about the Tiger Tribe. Hide nothing. Everything. Troops, weapons, plans, the chieftain, all of it."
I counted each item one by one as I spoke. Without leaving anything out.
"Why should I do that?"
Sharp Tooth raised his head. Rebellion lingered in his eyes. His last pride. Perhaps the feeling of not wanting to become a traitor.
"If you want to live."
I answered simply. Short and clear, giving him a choice.
"...Is that a threat? Are you telling me to sell out my tribe's information?"
Sharp Tooth narrowed his eyes. Anger mixed into his voice, and humiliation too.
"It is a trade. Give information, and I will let you live. If you do not...."
I spoke calmly. I toyed with the Bronze Sword. I slowly drew it and held the blade up to the firelight. The blade flickered red in the campfire light. It looked as though it were stained with blood. The firelight danced on the blade as if alive.
"You will kill me?"
Sharp Tooth gulped. His Adam's apple moved up and down.
"I will not kill you. But I can make you uncomfortable. Refuse you food, or lock you somewhere cold."
I shook my head and spoke slowly. One word at a time. I presented the choices. Cooperate, or suffer.
Sharp Tooth looked at me for a long time. He stared directly into my eyes, as if trying to decide whether I was lying or telling the truth.
I did not avoid his gaze and looked straight back at him. There was no lie in my words.
"...What do you want to know?"
In the end, he yielded. His shoulders slumped, his head lowered, and he admitted defeat.
"How many warriors does the Tiger Tribe have?"
I asked.