Happiness came too suddenly, causing Ramos to lose his usual composure. He took a large gulp of wine to restrain his overwhelming excitement. Ramos personally poured Thane a glass of Meli wine, then fixed his gaze on the boy’s every movement.

  Thane looked at the brimming glass in surprise. He had never drunk alcohol before. He hated the feeling of losing clarity. More than that, he loathed the sensation of his body no longer being under his own control. After enduring countless nightmares during his time with Exitus, Thane always wanted to keep a cool head, ready to respond to any sudden situation. He politely pushed the glass away and spoke calmly.

  “Please forgive me, sir. I do not drink.”

  Ramos let out an astonished “Oh”.The boy’s answer made the deputy chieftain frown. Not because he was truly angered by Thane, but because he was disappointed in the boy’s companions. Clearly, the two beside him had not earned Thane’s full trust. As someone who had weathered countless storms in both commerce and war, Ramos could discern many things from a few simple actions.

  Ramos signaled Ulmar with a blink. The elderly priestess immediately understood. Her body trembled as a powerful surge of Will erupted, striking directly into the minds of Mira and Vogar, rendering them unconscious at once.

  “A Sorcerer King.” Thane frowned.

  But that alone was not enough. Vogar was a warlord, after all. His spirit should not have been knocked out by a single blow. Clearly, there was something in the food that worked in concert with the Will just now.

  “You guessed correctly. But do not worry. It is only a bit of herbal sedative,” Ulmar said with a smile.

  The old woman stood and bowed to Ramos, then dragged the two unconscious youths outside, leaving a private space for Ramos and Thane.

  “You seem quite calm,” Ramos said with a teasing smile.

  Thane shrugged. He sensed no malice from them. Moreover, from Ramos’s gaze, Thane subconsciously felt a strange sense of familiarity. Perhaps this man knew something about his origins. Thane thought so quietly. A faint anticipation rose within him. At that moment, he reached out, took the glass of wine from before him, and drained it in one go. The heat rushed straight to his head, leaving him lightheaded, but not nearly as severe as he had imagined.

  “Truly a clever boy. I am quite curious what you have been through,” Ramos said.

  Ramos evaluated Thane extremely highly. The more he looked at him, the more agreeable he found him, the more he liked him. A chieftain needed not only strength, but also cunning and wisdom. Thane possessed all the qualities Ramos desired.

  “I do not believe you went through all this merely for idle conversation.”

  “The night is long. Are you interested in listening as I tell an old story?” Ramos slowly walked to the window. Red moonlight spilled across the black sky. The deputy chieftain seemed to sink into memories of the past. Without waiting for Thane’s reply, he began to recount the story in a calm, unhurried voice.

  Twenty years ago, when Ossa was still a poor land and the tribes were constantly at war over territory and food, the domain of BloodClaw was wedged between three tribes. It frequently suffered clashes large and small along its borders, placing immense pressure on the shoulders of the chieftain at the time, Korath. Korath was strong and intelligent, yet he could never compare to Reddan. If not for the fearsome reputation of Vargan and the rumors that he dwelled within the BloodMoon hills, it would have been inevitable for BloodClaw to be swallowed by the other three tribes.

  Korath became obsessed with finding a worthy successor. A powerful figure like Reddan, someone who could continue the ancient legend of BloodClaw, when it once ruled Ossa and the other leaders bowed at its feet. He had two sons, Nash and Ramos, sons upon whom Korath had placed immense hope and expectation.

  Yet fate was cruel. Nash was born with a deformed body. Though he possessed extraordinary strength, his stature was short and his two arms were long and grotesque. Ramos, on the other hand, was born with a normal body, but was far weaker than other children of his age.

  The more Ramos was neglected by his father, the more Nash was mocked by the other children. Nash’s appearance was a constant source of ridicule within the tribe. This caused Nash to grow up insecure and depressed. His strength was never truly revealed or acknowledged. That was until Korath witnessed Nash tearing a sheep apart with his bare hands in a fit of rage. Nash’s strength made Korath’s heart race, filling him with excitement. His appearance might be ugly, but who cared. This was a world of the strong, where the powerful ruled.

  Nash was personally trained by Korath, entering a childhood soaked in blood and tears. Sleepless nights of training, perilous hunts, moments brushing against death, yet Nash never resented Korath. On the contrary, he revered him deeply, for Korath was the one who acknowledged him. Nash did everything for his father’s approving gaze and satisfaction. When Nash killed a Goa for the first time, he was overjoyed by his father’s affectionate pat on the head. He broke down in tears when Korath said, “Well done, my son.”

  Nash grew stronger with each passing day, and colder as well. The children no longer dared to mock him to his face. He always returned from hunts covered in blood, the severed heads of beasts hanging from his back. Nash’s presence became imposing, gradually carrying the bearing of a leader. Those around him began to flatter him. The girls who once scorned him now hovered around him like trivial butterflies. Nash despised these weak and hypocritical people. His goal was singular. To become the strongest. To become the next chieftain of BloodClaw. But fate was strange. A girl stepped into his life and became an indelible mark upon it.

  On days without hunts, Nash trained in a nearby forest within the Vayle valley, still well inside BloodClaw territory. He swung his blade with focus, each strike sharp and powerful, yet always lacking something. Something Nash believed that once found would allow him to create his own Ultimate Skill. As he trained intently, a stone suddenly flew from above and struck his head.

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  The damage was minimal, neither painful nor serious, yet it irritated him. Nash looked toward the one who had thrown it and saw a fair skinned, beautiful girl wearing beast hide clothing, her long legs swinging as she sat atop a nearby tree.

  “Hey, gorilla. You look awfully busy,” the girl said with a mischievous smile, teasing him.

  Seeing the fang tattoo on her body and face, Nash realized she was from SilverFang. His frown deepened as he eyed her warily and spoke in a threatening tone.

  “This is BloodClaw territory. You are trespassing on another tribe’s land. Leave at once before I kill you.”

  “So scary, so scary. Hey gorilla, want a banana to cool off,” the girl pouted in reply, pulling a ripe, fragrant yellow banana from the fruit pouch hanging at her side.

  Nash turned livid with rage. He hated anyone who mocked his appearance. He lunged forward and slammed his fist into the tree trunk, ripping it up by the roots. The shock shattered the trunk cleanly in two. He lifted his gaze to search for her and realized the girl had already leapt to another branch, sitting there swinging her legs, looking at him with eyes full of admiration.

  “Wow. That is incredible. Hey, hey. You are really strong. What is your name. I am Mirana.”

  Mirana greeted him enthusiastically. She was the daughter of the SilverFang chieftain, and from a young age she had been exposed to many strange things. Merchant caravans from Greaton constantly brought her tribe countless interesting items. Bottles filled with fragrant perfume, glowing gemstones that sparkled with light, music playing stones,.... All of it in exchange for piles of Cerberus droppings.

  Mirana possessed an intense curiosity toward anything different. The way she looked at Nash was not one of disdain or contempt, but the delighted gaze of a child who had found an interesting toy.

  Nash was extremely sensitive to contempt. He had grown up under countless such looks. He stared deeply into the girl’s sparkling eyes and froze. What he saw was only a single word "Beautiful" Mirana’s clear gaze pierced through Nash’s icy heart like an arrow. For the first time in his life, Nash blushed.

  The unfamiliar sensation made Nash instinctively reject it. He roared and smashed the tree Mirana was sitting on, trying to scare her away.

  “Wow. Hey. Try smashing this one instead.” Mirana lightly leapt to another tree. The trees she jumped to grew larger and larger. Her speed was far too fast. As a child of SilverFang, speed was her greatest strength. Nash could not even tell where she had gone unless she spoke up herself. Like a true gorilla being led, he smashed one tree after another that Mirana perched upon.

  “Hey, gorilla. If you are so good, try smashing this.” Mirana leapt onto the top of a massive boulder. She smiled smugly, certain that this time the gorilla would not be able to destroy it. It was a huge fire stone, solid and resilient, likely hurled here during a volcanic eruption in Infernic long ago.

  By now, Nash had begun to calm down. The emotions from earlier were strange. By all rights, they were enemies, members of opposing tribes. He sighed, turned his back, and walked away, no longer willing to play along with her. In any case, she was far too fast to catch.

  “Hey, gorilla. Scared now. Cannot break this rock, can you.” Mirana shouted provocatively. She made a grotesque face, hopping about on the stone like a mischievous white rabbit. Her behavior was completely at odds with the beauty heaven had bestowed upon her.

  Nash stopped. "Scared?" He turned back and stared at the boulder. Was he truly afraid. Or was he retreating because he truly could not break this stone. The rock before him stood like a challenge manifest within his mind.

  “Break it.” A voice urged him from within. He seemed to understand what he had been missing.

  Destroying the stone would give him the final piece needed to create his own Ultimate Skill. Nash ignored Mirana’s noisy shouts. At this moment, there was only him and the stone.

  Nash went mad. He gathered all the mana in his body into his arms and charged forward, punching the solid boulder again and again. Time passed. The stone showed no sign of yielding, yet Nash did not stop. His long, twisted arms hammered relentlessly against it. Flesh tore away, and the bones of his fingers seemed to shatter.

  At first, seeing Nash fail, Mirana was extremely pleased. She clutched her stomach and laughed loudly atop the red stone. But as time went on, her amusement turned to surprise, then from surprise to concern.

  “Hey. Stop.” Mirana shouted, wanting Nash to stop. To her, this was nothing more than a joke. There was no need for it to become so serious. But the only response was Nash’s silence and the sound of his fists striking the massive rock. Boom. Boom. Boom.

  “Stop. You are crazy. You madman, stop right now.” Mirana began to panic. Her tone changed when she saw that Nash’s fists were now nothing but white bone, the flesh worn away after countless impacts.

  Nash continued to punch the boulder. He seemed to grasp something. He was close to the threshold now. Just a little more and he would comprehend it. This was it "frenzied". What Nash lacked was frenzied.

  “Aaaaaaaa.” Nash roared as the mana within his body flowed along a bizarre pattern.

  “Ultimate Skill. Frenzied Punch.”

  A thunderous explosion rang out. The once solid boulder shattered into countless fragments under Mirana’s shining gaze. Nash collapsed at once, gasping for breath. Mirana approached him fearfully and asked in a quiet voice.

  “Hey. Are you alright, gorilla?” Her voice was filled with concern and worry.

  “I am not called ‘gorilla.’ My name is Nash. Remember it well. It is the name of the strongest warrior, the future chieftain of BloodClaw.” Nash murmured weakly before losing consciousness.

  “Nash?” Mirana truly engraved the name into her memory. She stared at Nash’s face. Though his appearance was somewhat grotesque, his features were not unpleasant.

  “What am I thinking?” Mirana noticed clouds of dust rising from the distance. She knew the noise just now had alerted the wolf riders. The wolves’ hearing was sharp.

  Mirana leapt up into the trees and vanished among the broad shadows of the forest. She left, yet the image of Nash lingered in her mind. His resolute eyes, filled with a masculine determination. Something within Mirana began to grow. The seed of a future tragedy.

  “And that was how your father and mother first met,” Ramos paused the story and burst into laughter. The first time he heard Nash tell it, he too could not hold back his laughter. It was truly a bizarre encounter.

  “Mirana was her name?” Thane did not find the story amusing at all. Only a faint sadness flowed through his mind.

  “You have eyes exactly like your father’s.” Ramos seemed to realize his laughter was inappropriate and awkwardly shifted the topic.

  “Then… why did they abandon me?” Thane hesitated, then asked.

  If this had been earlier, Thane might have broken down in tears. Unlike children raised in their parents’ embrace, he had grown up struggling to earn every coin to care for his ailing grandfather. The warmth of hearth fires existed only in dreams. The crackling campfires deep in the cold forests were reality. Thane had once longed to lie in his parents’ loving arms, but what truly wanted to claim him was the hungry belly of savage beasts.

  Now, Thane was different. He was calm to the point of coldness. He was curious about his origins, but no longer sorrowful. Though his encounter with Exitus had been brief, it had forged him into someone far stronger and more mature. Having died and returned again and again within endless nightmares, the boy’s mind had grown prematurely tempered.

  Thane’s composure exceeded Ramos’s expectations. He almost wished he could appoint Thane as chieftain on the spot. This bearing was that of a born leader. Ramos nodded in admiration, then spoke slowly.

  “Of course. That is the latter part of the story. The story is not yet finished.”