By the campfire of the Crimson Star Tribe
Clara sat close to the flames, her expression sharp, her words even sharper. She revealed much of what she knew about the Chagga Tribe—its hierarchy, customs, and most critically, its priest, Crue.
One particular detail stood out: Crue left the Chagga camp once a month, alone, forbidding anyone to follow.
When she finished, Enzo narrowed his eyes. "You plan to strike while he's gone?"
Clara nodded. "That's the best time. But I can't take him alone. Crue's no fool. He's experienced in battle, and his priest powers are deadly."
"I'll help," Enzo said simply.
He was just as curious as Clara. A high-ranking priest leaving his tribe in secret once a month? That meant either a hidden weakness… or a hidden opportunity.
After the discussion, Clara rose quietly and returned to her cave. Despite the rough stone and vine-wrapped walls, she felt something unexpected settling in her chest: comfort. She caught glances from the tribe as she walked, but they weren't hostile. Curious, perhaps—even hopeful.
Maybe… this tribe isn't so bad after all.
Shortly after
Sovita approached Enzo near the dying firelight, concern written on his face.
"Lord Enzo," he said, "it's time to send out the hunting party again. The boar meat has all been turned into jerky, which is our food reserve. But we'll need fresh meat to sustain us."
Enzo folded his arms in thought. "How long will the current food reserves last?"
"Ten days, if we ration carefully."
That was less than Enzo expected—but not surprising. In a world like this, food couldn't be hoarded easily. Word spread fast, and food attracted more than beasts—it drew rival tribes.
Unless you were strong enough to defend it.
"Have the hunting party leave tomorrow," Enzo said at last. "Let them scout the area and search for game. If they find any young animals, don't kill them—bring them back alive."
Sovita blinked, then nodded. Ward would have more work to manage now. Raising the boar cubs had already been a challenge, especially the offspring of the Boar King—feral, violent, and deadly if not properly contained.
As the food issue was settled, Sovita moved on to another topic.
"The combat team's selection is complete," he reported. "But there's a problem."
Enzo listened carefully.
"There aren't many left who can fight. During the last migration, we lost too many. Those not selected for combat must now take up all other duties—construction, farming, gathering, guarding the young. We're stretched thin."
He wasn't complaining—just stating facts. Without Enzo, the tribe might've already collapsed.
Enzo placed a firm hand on Sovita's shoulder. "Tomorrow at noon, gather everyone at the ritual square. I'll reorganize responsibilities and introduce a new structure. Also… we're expanding the camp. It's too small."
Sovita blinked in surprise. Too small? In his eyes, it had already been too large—difficult to defend, too open.
But he didn't argue. As always, he followed Enzo's lead.
The next day, noon — Ritual Square
The tribe gathered as instructed, filling the open space between the five stone pillars. Enzo stepped forward, his voice carrying across the crowd.
"Combat team, step forward!"
Tia led thirty warriors into formation: eighteen men, twelve women. She stood tall at their head and declared, "Lord Priest, all members present."
Enzo nodded. "Good. The first task—unlock your potential."
He had tested the divine art Stimulate All Things enough now to understand its deeper capabilities. Beyond healing and agriculture, it could awaken latent strength in people—though how much, depended entirely on the person's own limit.
One by one, the combat team members approached.
With each touch of Enzo's glowing palm, a wave of green light washed over them. Sickness faded. Scars lightened. Some grew visibly stronger—muscles sharpening, eyes gleaming with clarity.
Murmurs rippled through the tribe.
They didn't fully understand what was happening, but they knew what they saw: warriors being reborn.
Sovita's hands trembled with excitement. These warriors, newly blessed, were now on par with the elite of other tribes.
Maybe… just maybe, the Chagga weren't invincible.
By the end, Enzo was visibly fatigued but still standing. He raised his voice again.
"From now on, this combat team will secure the camp—guarding against beasts and enemies alike. Split into three squads, rotating shifts day and night. No exceptions."
The thirty warriors answered in unison: "Yes, Lord Priest!"
"During your off-shifts," Enzo added, "you won't be doing labor. But you will train. Combat discipline must be sharpened. As for who will train you—"
He hesitated. Training wasn't his expertise.
Before he could speak again, Clara stepped forward from the crowd.
"If you'll allow it," she said confidently, "I'll train them. I've led combat teams in the Chagga Tribe. With your blessing, I'll forge this group into the strongest force in the region."
The crowd stirred uneasily. Could she be trusted?
Clara met their stares and didn't flinch. Then, in full view, she drew a stone knife, sliced her palm, and pressed her bleeding hand to the stone brazier.
"I swear this by blood and flame. I pledge loyalty to Lord Enzo. If I betray this vow—may the beasts devour me alive."
The fire in the brazier flared briefly in response.
Enzo's eyes narrowed. A blood oath.
Ancient. Binding. Deadly if broken.
And in that moment, he felt it—the totem within him pulsing, renewed. The Totem of the Leaf surged with strength. Clara's oath had added more power than Amy's integration.
Enzo smiled.
"Very well. From this day forward, you are the instructor of the Crimson Star combat team."
Clara saluted, pride gleaming in her eyes as she took her place among the warriors.
Later that day
A crude clay sand table was brought out, molded roughly to represent the terrain around the camp.
Enzo took a stick and began marking new zones:
Living area
Livestock pens
Agricultural fields
Industrial section (for tools, furnaces, and storage)
Toilet zone
He appointed managers for each zone and assigned team members. The disorganized, reactive way of running the tribe was gone. This was structure. This was a future.
By the time all was arranged, the sun was already leaning toward the west.
And finally, it was time.
The pottery in the furnaces, fired and cooled, was ready to be revealed.