"The East grows restless. Clans fracture. The Divide shifts with every year that passes. The Wilds won't remain so quiet for long. The Dhrokari need a blade that can cut through what comes."

"...And I see you becoming that blade."

I held the man's gaze for a moment. "I am not your blade, Chieftain. And I never will be."

His brow arched at that. "Did you not venture here to join us?"

"I did not. No. I am here because I was told these lands were harsh. I was told… that it was torment… out here. I seek strength."

"Strength… a more modest goal than I expected. I can give you that. But…"

The man leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers steepled, the dim light of the lamps glinting off his many rings. His silver eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips raising into a faint, controlled smile. "But you must do something for me in return."

I noticed the weight behind his words. Something told me this was where his real motive lay. Every question had been calculated, each answer leading me closer to a trap. Yet he revealed nothing of his own ambitions---only the barest facts about their people, their territory, and their culture.

This man… is a strategist, I realized. Not a brute chieftain as I had half-expected, but a predator who toys with ideas as much as his prey.

"What?" I asked, wary, letting my voice stay calm despite the tension in the room.

His fingers drummed a quiet, steady rhythm on the rough-hewn table.

"You will represent our Clan in the Youth Festival."

I frowned. "What is that?"

"Every year, the tribes of the Wildlands gather beneath the Pillar of Ash to honor the founding of our kind."

He gestured to the wall beside him, the one plastered end-to-end with the giant map. Inked lines marked rivers, dunes, and jagged cliffs, and the center of everything, was a marker, a single column marked in charcoal-grey. It rose like a sentinel, stark against the flat land around it. The Pillar of Ash.

"The Youth Festival is both celebration and war—a proving ground where the strongest young of each tribe contend before the eyes of every chieftain. Victors earn resources, armaments, territory, and recognition. For their leaders, prestige and a seat at the High Table. And for their clans, prosperity."

He looked at me again, silver eyes fixed, measuring. "The Shavrak have not won in generations. Our rivals smile at us while mocking our weakness behind closed doors. They defile the reputation of what our Tribe once was. They have forgotten the Children of the Sands, for no reason other than their pride."

The man's fists clenched on the table, veins rising like cords beneath his skin.

"I won't stand for it."

I folded my arms across my chest. "You say you won't stand for it. Yet you're asking me to fight your war for you."

"I am offering you exactly what you came for," he replied, voice low but steady. "Strength. Experience. Access to our techniques. Wield them, and you will become one of us, whether you understand it now or not. And when you represent us at the Pillar of Ash in six months, the High Table will be forced to acknowledge the Shavrak once more."

The offer hung in the air. Clear. But laden with hooks.

I shook my head. "I won't be here that long."

His eyes narrowed. "You won't be here… six months?"

"Twenty days," I said. "That's how long I can stay."

He laughed then---loud, booming, the kind of laughter that bounced off the stone and came back louder. "Twenty days! You sought the Wilds for strength and think to claim it in less than a moon's turn? Have you no mind to think, nor eyes to see? You think the Wildlands are a market where power is sold by the pound?"

He continued laughing. I waited.

When he finally stopped, panting, I spoke quietly, deliberately, forcing each word to land with weight. "Five days ago, I was unawakened."

"I was amnesic. I didn't know what the Words were. Didn't know what a beast was. Didn't know how to fight. Nor how to train. But today, I stand before you at Silver, having humiliated your champions."

The laughter faded from his face.

"In five days, I did all that, and more, 'Great Chieftain'. Imagine what I can do in twenty."

His eyes narrowed, skepticism sharp enough to cut.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"You don't have to," I said, "You just have to keep your promise," then added, "and I'll keep mine."

The lines around his eyes deepened with thought as he regarded me for a long while, searching for deceit. He found none.

"You are either mad," he said at last, voice rough. "Or something far rarer."

I sat back, lifting the cub from my shoulders into my lap. Its fur was warm, solid against my chest. "Either works."

The Chieftain's fingers drummed on the table again, slow, deliberate.

He looked at me. "There is but one path forward."

"Five days. The same number you claimed." He stood, slow but sure. "For Five days, I will teach you our ways. How to fight. How to hunt. To Track. To train. And you will show me progress. If I see enough of it to validate your claims, then I will give you unhindered access to our Archives. If you cannot back your words, however, you will submit to me completely, and be bound to the Shavrak permanently."

I stood as well, meeting his smoldering gaze, "Deal."

The man unsheathed the carving knife at his belt, and sliced open his palm without so much as a twitch, proceeding to then hold it out towards me, blood dripping all over his table.

"A blood-pact will seal it," he said.

I followed suit, using the blade of my axe to slice open my palm. I could sense it knitting up almost immediately, especially now that it was even faster than before, so I willed my body to hold off on regeneration, and the wound remained open.

Our hands met over the table, palms bleeding, shaking slightly. His voice lowered, almost a chant under his breath. "Bear witness, Great Mother, and strike down whomever denies the conditions of our pact."

The System reacted first.

[A New Quest has been offered.]

Offered? Not Assigned?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[Quest: Blood Pact]

Impress the Chieftain in the following categories: (0/5)

-Human vs. Beast Combat (Incomplete)

-Human vs. Human Combat (Incomplete)

-Speed of Stage Progression (Incomplete)

-Speed of Mastery Progression (Incomplete)

-Tracking Skills (Incomplete)

Reward: Full Access to the Ancient Archives of the Shavrak Clan.

Failure: Complete Servitude to Intisak Shavrak, and Permanent Bondage to the Shavrak Clan.

Time Remaining: 5 days 00 hours 00 minutes 00 seconds

Quest Reward Scale: 77/23 (in Favor of the Host)

Quest Difficulty: Hard

[Do you wish to accept? (Yes/No)]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I held our handshake firm as I read the Quest details. My eyes skimmed over the categories. Skewed. Overwhelming. Yet the System's reward scale favored me, the Host, rather than him.

Do the Archives contain something so valuable it outweighs lifetime bondage?

I could only assume so. That was the only logical reason for the System to compute a reward in my favor.

I met his eyes again. They gleamed silver, calculating, but there was something else there now—genuine concern, a rare softness at the edges of his predatory gaze. He truly wants the best for his Clan.

I spoke aloud, "I accept."

The blood between our palms glowed crimson for a moment, swirling and dissolving into the air above the table in fine motes of light.

The Chieftain's lips curved into a smile, genuine this time, free of calculation or politics. "It is done."

[Quest: Blood-Pact has been accepted.]

I tore my eyes away from the System screens and met his gaze once more. There was acknowledgment there. Respect, perhaps, or a quiet measure of curiosity. He had just gambled heavily on me. And I, in turn, had just gambled with a blood-pact I could not break.

"So it is," I said.

He nodded once, slow and deliberate, as if weighing the consequences of the next five days in real time. "We begin at dawn. Be ready. Fail, and you will have no choice but to honor the Pact. Succeed, and the path forward will open wider than you can imagine."

I allowed myself a small, silent exhale as I rose from the table.

Five days. That was all I had.

I turned toward the door, cub on my shoulder once more.

The Chieftain's voice stopped me before I reached the threshold. "Boy."

I turned, expecting perhaps an admonition or final warning.

"Your name," he said simply.

I smiled. "Axel. Axel Vorous."

He nodded back. "Intisak Shavrak."

I stepped back out into the black stone corridors, staring back at my blurred reflection on their polished surface.

Five Days to prove myself, or risk being virtually enslaved. Regeneration wouldn't do anything for me then.

The Wildlands...have yet to disappoint.

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