The streets looked pristine early in the morning and there was a peaceful atmosphere covering the village. As far as his eyes could see, there were homesteads with smoking chimneys marking the start of the day. The people of Jua village lived in simple huts, most of which were white or orange in color with purple, grey or red thatched roofs. A few people added murals, artwork, and carvings onto the walls of their huts making the designs rich and beautiful. Mwana felt a deep sense of peace looking at this village where he was born, especially from a high ground as he leapt over the walls and houses. Along the way, he would greet the people he met on the streets or apologize to those who saw him jump over their houses or run away before he got scolded.

The irritable old man, Ugumu, who once held the title of ‘King of Forgers’; the middle-aged woman who was once the village’s top beauty some twenty or so years ago, Urembo; the amiable aunt who always gave Mwana her first fresh bean shoots, Kanze; the woman who owned a fish stall selling fish from all over Toro, Mwenzi; all these people were up and about going about their business early in the morning. Mwana greeted them as he went on his way towards a unique homestead.

This homestead was curved out of a rock hill in the village and the houses within it looked like caves. There was already a woman waiting for him at one of the doorways. She was Jua Toboa, the mother of Jua Mwanga and Jua Nyaga.

The name ‘Nyaga’ was another way of saying ‘Mwanga’ and the meaning of both names was ‘brightness’. Mwana greeted her and opened his bag to reveal a blue sweater which his mother Sana had knit for the woman’s child. The sweater had beautiful red and gold designs all around it. When Toboa saw it, she was amazed. It wasn’t just the threadwork that was amazing but the designs themselves were on another level.

She knew full well how much Mwanga would like this sweater. It would probably be the first thing to truly cheer him up and bring brightness to his life after his father’s death. The Mwanga siblings were in a very similar situation to Mwana and Pendo as they had also experienced the loss of their father.

Mwana was very happy to see her surprise and elation as this was a sweater he had designed. In fact, while his mother basically made the ‘base’ of the sweater, the designs were all sewn in by Mwana himself. This was his talent! His artistic mind made it so that he could conceive beautiful designs like this on a whim. In fact, he had been the one to design his family’s clothes as well as the ceremonial clothes he was wearing on this day. For a blacksmith village where everyone was ‘hard’, it was indeed rare to find a talent like his. After Mwana passed on the sweater, Jua Toboa who Mwana usually referred to as Aunt Toboa, told him that her sons had already left for school. Hearing that, Mwana said his goodbyes and left for his next appointments.

‘I hope that old guy doesn’t complain about the painting after I spent so long on it.’

‘I’ll deliver the carved tiles first.’

After delivering some tiles he had been tasked to decorate to a construction workshop, he finally arrived at a homestead in a forested part of the village. This homestead was surrounded by a variety of fruit trees and every child in the village would always pass by here on the way to school for these fruits.

The man he was meeting here was Jua Fisi, an old expert blacksmith in the village. The man was old to Mwana but in reality he was only in his late fifties to early sixties. Mwana had received an art painting job for the new village-famous warrior’s mural. This was the work Mwana usually did to earn some extra money.

He couldn’t just let his mother make clothes since her body was getting weaker as time went on. There was even a time she kept going till her hands were shaking violently and Mwana had to step in to stop her. Although he understood that his mother was pushing herself because of how powerless she felt, he couldn’t let her continue harming her health. In their family, only his uncle Wapili and his aunts had steady incomes yet most of this went to treat his older uncle and mother. Some of his older cousins would send in support here and there but they were not living at the homestead anymore and some of them were even away from the village for long periods of time. As for food and other necessities, the family mostly got their share from the village.

An old man could be seen walking out of the big compound’s gates. The fence to this compound was so low that Mwana could easily step over it without jumping much but he preferred to stand outside during his dealings with this old man.

“Old man, you have too much money to waste on that good for nothing.” Mwana didn’t even greet the old man politely; he opened his bag and unrolled a large painting. This piece was an image of a young dashing man who looked extremely majestic and domineering like the legends of old.

The old man happily took it from Mwana’s hands before looking at it appreciatively, “Brat, you have talent.”

“How about you come and work at my shop?” he added while stroking his nonexistent beard.

Mwana didn’t even bother to respond to that question and stretched out his hand waiting for his payment.

“Straight to business, huh, and did you just call my son a good-for-nothing? He is a village hero you know.” Indeed his son, Jua Waya Wanyama, was a village hero and a Senior Warrior who was close to the Apex before the age of 20!

He had received the title of hero for his ingenuity in saving the village from massive losses and property damage when the Amanani River flooded its banks. Jua Waya, at just eighteen years old, had used his wit and knowledge about the water attribute to redirect the river waters. When Amanani rose from the waters to attack the village, he alone killed four of them with a single throw of his Goleyo. Each of his throwing knife’s four blades beheaded an Amanani.

The Amanani were humanoid creatures with red skin, long black hair, and a lengthy tail with a flaming tip. These creatures of myth lived in the mountains, forests, and rivers like the Eastern Befuddling River, also termed as the Demonic or Amanani River. Amanani usually had multiple sets of eyes and two mouths, one normal and one monstrous which they naturally used to consume humans. Their stomachs were like a bottomless pit or a separate space as they could swallow entire villages without as much as bloating in the same manner as traditional ogres.

Worst of all, they could shape-shift into humans usually taking the appearance of handsome princes. Their monstrous mouth was usually hidden behind the neck with their long hair covering it. They would take this handsome human form to sneak into villages and trick young women before taking them away as their brides. Naturally the victims’ fates after leaving the villages would be horrific.

Among all the young warriors who fought for the village against the Amanani on that fateful day, Waya stood out the most. For his ingenuity in redirecting the river waters and his combat prowess, he gained everyone’s respect. While Mwana always called him ‘Big bro Waya’, this young man had messed with Mwana too many times that he would always get annoyed whenever he heard his name. Waya was indeed a village hero, but his demeanor was far from one.

After the old man handed him some shells, the currency mainly used in The Kingdom of Toro, Mwana put them in his bag and pretended to leave. Seeing that, the old man got nervous and after looking left and right at the empty streets, he stopped Mwana. The old man sheepishly rubbed his hands looking extremely suspicious before asking the question Mwana was expecting all along.

“Mwana my boy, what about that painting you told me about last time?”

Although Mwana knew what this fellow was up to, he pretended not to know, “What are you talking about?”

It was only after the old fellow Jua Fisi stuffed another two shells into his hands that he pretended to have remembered. “Oh, you mean THAT village beauty painting?”

“Shhh, Shhh, don’t be so loud, my wives might be listening!”

‘What a coward! He has five wives but is still so whipped,’ Mwana silently thought but on his face was a bright amiable smile, “Why are you asking about it? Do you want it?”

“No no no no, my wives would have my head! Especially Wakili and Tenga.” Old man Fisi sheepishly responded but Mwana knew he was just acting 'hard to get'. This was a painting of Jua Urembo after all. While she had been the top village beauty over twenty or so years ago, she still had a strong hold over these old and middle-aged men like his uncle Jua Wapili and this old fellow, Jua Fisi.

“Good, it’s not for sale anyway, so don’t get any ideas” Mwana added.

Fisi’s face drastically changed and Mwana knew he had him hooked like a fish on a line. The old man immediately started negotiating. Mwana did not want to waste too much time on this as he was already getting late for the HookBall match.

“Old man, don’t waste my time. You know my level as an artist, there are many who will want it even if you don’t. If not for being from a brutish village like this, I would have already made it big.” Mwana was indeed right, in this world, artists and painters had their own levels just like warriors. It might be strange for artists to have 'power levels' but it was with regard to the effect of their art. Artists were graded as:

> Level 1: Ordinary painter.

> Level 2: Artists who achieve injecting emotion into art.

> Level 3: Emotion radiating outside the painting.

> Level 4: Painting World - The viewer sees the painting as if they have been sucked into the world of the painting itself.

> Level 5: The world of the painting comes to life in the real world.

> Level 6: The real world including people and objects can be physically transported into the artwork.

Mwana was an extremely talented artist who had already reached the third level at his age. His art could go as far as ease depression just by looking at it. The old man Fisi saw that Mwana was eager to leave and did not hesitate anymore before stuffing a few more shells in Mwana’s hand. To this act, Mwana acted unperturbed although internally he was jumping from joy from all the money he had gotten from this old fellow. For a while, the old man did not seem too bad in his eyes.

However, he still could not understand the feelings of men like Fisi with regard to Jua Urembo. Maybe he was still too young, but he could never imagine himself sneaking around like old man Fisi just to buy a beauty’s painting.

“Old man, do you think money is enough for this?”

Fisi was ready to collect his 'goods' when he saw Mwana’s fake smile. ‘This kid is trying to fleece me even further.’ Knowing what the old man was thinking, Mwana quickly corrected, “I don’t need your money, In fact I can even throw it in as a bonus.” The last part was said as a suspicious whisper, “No one will have to know.”

‘Is this kid threatening to expose me?’ Fisi felt that things were getting too out of control early in the morning. He just wanted a beautiful painting to stare at in his free time when he was bored or drunk.

“I’m not a snitch so don’t worry about anything, it’s just that other people also know I was painting Urembo, what will I say if they ask?” Mwana sighed.

As Jua Fisi was about to start complaining, he saw his second wife Jua Wakili walk out of the house. It seemed that she was on her way to feed the poultry early in the morning, but after seeing Mwana she came over to greet him before looking at her husband suspiciously. Fisi was already fidgeting like a man caught in the act. ‘Heh. This will be easy,’ Mwana triumphantly thought.

“Morning, Madam, we were just talking business.”

“Business? What business?” Wakili already saw their son’s painting in the old man’s hands and from the time he came out, they should have been done a long time ago. Her husband was also acting suspiciously; he had clearly never been good at hiding things. His body language alone exposed everything.

Seeing the old man about to expose himself with his body language alone, Mwana quickly came to his rescue, “My bloodline just awakened and the Elder was going to forge a good sword for me in exchange for the painting.” Wakili was mildly surprised and congratulated him. “Come by for a present later,” she added before leaving to continue her morning routine.

Fisi on the other hand was shocked not just at the bloodline awakening but everything else, ‘Forging a sword? I didn’t hear of this. For the Wanyama’s painting? But I already paid money twice! And since when did I go from old man to elder in this kid’s mouth?’ As his wife was not far away, the old man still heavily agreed, nodding like a chicken.

Mwana could only think, ‘henpecked indeed.’

Mwana indeed needed a better weapon, preferably a silver ranked sword. He could not use his uncle or late father’s sword at the moment as their ranks were too far above his current level. Before the Crystal level, warriors would only use Mortal Grade Weapons which were divided into [Earth, Sky, Heaven] ranks with Earth Ranked weapons having Bronze, Silver, Gold and Black categories.

Above the Mortal Grade was the Spirit Grade, mostly used by Crystal Warriors and Divine Spiritualists who focused on training their spirit instead of body. There was also the Sacred Grade and Divine Grade for armaments above Spiritual weapons. All these weapons required a corresponding level of power to use as they were inbuilt with energy patterns and energy channels that allowed warriors to infuse energy and run techniques through them.

A good weapon enhanced the warrior’s techniques. The only weapons that did not follow this rule were Holy Weapons as they empowered the user themselves instead of just their techniques. A mortal with zero martial training could become a God with a Holy weapon in hand but needless to say, such weapons only existed in the legends.

After Mwana got the promise he wanted, he left thinking, 'the world sure is strange. How can a rotten tree beget a good fruit? I was sure it was impossible before meeting the old man. No wonder Big bro Waya still can’t get rid of ‘certain’ behaviors even after becoming a village hero.'

Fisi on the other hand was elated to finally get what he wanted without getting caught but his smile faded when he remembered he had still been fleeced. ‘Didn’t he say he didn’t want my money? Didn’t he say it was a bonus? In the end I paid twice.’ Nevertheless, he was a man of his word.

New Words

Ugumu – possessing hardness/something difficult. Jua Ugumu translates to ‘knowing difficulties’.

Urembo - beauty

Kanze – treasure

Mwenzi – friend or companion

Toro – this is the name of the kingdom Jua village resides in. Mwana’s tribe, the Jemedari, are one of the many tribes in this nation.

Toboa – to pierce/to reveal secrets

Nyaga/Mwanga – brightness/light

Fisi – hyena/slang for ‘pervert’

Waya – electrical line or cable/slang for ‘dangerous’

Wanyama – animal/of animals

Goleyo – a type of Mambele throwing knife. It moves like a boomerang and has 4 curved blades.

Amanani – monstrous creatures that are part of Abaluhya mythology.

Wakili – Lawyer

Tenga – to separate