Sachihiro

We watch the southerners leave back the way they came. An estimated 30 000 of them came north, half of them stay to fertilize our soil. We were quick to build pyres for our dead. The southerners weren't, inviting scavenger birds and such creatures that feed of the dead. For that alone I've decided I don't like them.

One tent remains as the southerners leave. A tent occupied by our new ally and his friends, if rumours have it right.

I've seen him from afar. A strange looking man whose age I cannot guess. Short, strange colouring, strange clothing. He seems a peaceful man, harmless. Yet the Savage veterans don't seem to intimidate him even when they try.

His companions are strange as well. Two women and a senior man. One of the women being the red headed magician from the battle, the one that tor Tori to shreds.

I walk back towards Freydìs' tent after spending an hour at the bonfire talking to people I fought with. That's something that has changed since the battle. No one looks down on me now, no one has mocked me or tried starting a fight. None of them ignore or shuns my presence like they used to. Women who didn't give me the time of day in the village are trying to get my attention.

I hate it. It all feels fake to me, forced. Who I am hasn't changed but how they see me has. If they didn't find me interesting before, they shouldn't find me interesting now. 'Cause I honestly haven't changed, have I?

Ma says 'we are the product of our upbringing'. That before I had truly proven myself on a scale the tribe could understand there would've always been a stigma and inherent disrespect. I'm glad ma is a foundling, I'm glad ma and da explored the South before I was born.

The different perspective they have given Daewon and I growing up has made us more interesting people I feel. They have raised us to be good family men and good tribesmen. But we also have aspirations beyond fathering children and being good warriors for the tribe. So many others around me don't see beyond their begetting children and dying in battle, it's tedious.

I get to the tent and lie on my cot. Ignoring the couple humping and moaning a few feet away. Freydìs' little sister is also to be mated and she has found herself several lovers before that fateful day. I don't know how I went my whole life without noticing how generous our women are with their favour when they are to be mated.

I've been oblivious to a lot it seems. I try to meditate thinking about the talk I had with Dee yesterday. After the Seers met with the stranger.

Apparently the stranger gave our seers a map to a training camp of some sort. But it is located over six months travel away. A month is 3 ten-days. How can a person travel for 6 months and not get where they are going? How big is the world exactly?

Apparently this training ground is on another landmass all together. A land called Pangaea that is over 10 times larger than the one we are on. I can't imagine it, but am excited to go. I'm not sure who will be chosen to go amongst the young unmated warriors but I want to go, I want more than the tribe has to offer.

I do know Dee and two Seer trainees are to go, at least that's the expectation. Also all the tribesmen that wanted to be warriors but haven't Inherited the berserker rage are going. That right there should be an expedition of over a hundred already, and it leaves before dawn.

I would be spending the night with Ava and Teá before trying to insert myself into the expedition to the other land tomorrow. But Teá is apparently to be mated to Dustin, so is spending time in his tent. Ava is spending time in Victor's tent, she was probably the only woman in our age group that hadn't been bedded by the asshole.

Spirits beyond, I really hate that guy and Ava is tainted in my eyes now. I told her so earlier today, giving her my best scowl. She grinned her usual mischievous grin and told me he was 'good'.

What does that even mean? I hear a giggle a few feet away and open my eyes. Freyá is now alone. Using furs to cover herself while watching me. I didn't hear whoever she was with leave.

"What?" I ask harshly. I don't really like Freyá most of the time. I don't know why but she annoys me to no end.

She giggles again. "This meditation thing Freydìs said you do makes you make funny faces." I realise I'm scowling and relax my face. I sigh. There is honestly no point being mad at her. The girl is 16 years old and unaffected by my scowling or disapproving glares.

The first time she made advances on me I told Freydìs, who didn't seem surprised or to mind. The second and third time I spanked her bare bottom till it was red. She hasn't tried anything overt since.

"Anyways I carved that finger you've been carrying into a necklace. Here," she says giving me a bone neck charm made from my finger bones. The little stump on my left hand where my smallest finger used to be itches as I take the charm.

"Thank you," I say feeling some type of way as I take it. These are my bones from my hand.

"Here, let me," she says as she snatches it and quickly stands behind me. I lift my hair back as she loops it around my neck. I hear her blanket fall and feel her bare breast against my back.

This is why I can never let my guard down around this girl. It's not even the age gap that has me hesitating to welcome her advances. There isn't much separating 16 and 20 and I know she has had lovers older than me. The problem is that she 'feels' young.

And I can't be part of tarnishing such innocence of spirit. The problem is; though she may not know it her advances have an effect on me, a strong one. Because that innocence I want to protect, I also find very attractive. Which is probably why I had such a violent reaction that second time she tried her whiles on me.

I'm as hard as a rock but I manage to fend her off without resorting to violence this time and somehow finally manage to fall asleep.

* * *

Asriel

As I sit 'watching' my new student in meditation, trying to regain her centre again I notice a disturbance amongst the Barbarian camp. I send my senses further in to investigate and I notice the warriors silently rousing each other for battle.

The Sandersonians left over 40 hours ago, so I can't imagine what would have them preparing for battle. Are they going to fight among themselves? Are they preparing to betray me? Do they want revenge on this lightning mage that killed so many of them during the second battle?

I send my awareness out to quest for another threat they may have seen. These 'seers' have already proven that they see more than I do, more than they should.

I stay like this for a while. Straining my third eye to its limits, giving myself a headache from prolonged use.

The first surprise comes when I notice the hundreds of dwarven made weapons being unlimbered or being taken out of caches. The second is due to the spiritual energy within the weapons.

Spirit-bound weapons! They have more spirit bound weapons than the 'mislay' 16 they let the Sandersonians take. Thousands more! And they haven't even learnt to hide their weapons' signature.

Spirits beyond, these lands are gonna burn! Any fool with even a hint of spiritual awareness can tell these aren't normal weapons, let alone someone with an open third eye, or can cast examine.

An entire continent of none chakra users. An entire land of none Awakened none mana users. They are good warriors, and skilled in the art of killing but power, true power, they don't yet have. Not power of the level needed to keep a spirit-bound scalable weapon.

Bloody Seven! They may doom themselves and their entire continent if Awakened Kings on Pangaea or Croatia ever find out about this place. But they will find out, word always spreads. And they've gifted 16 weapons to the Sandersonians. Who will in turn boast. I shake my head in pity and worry. A churning worry at the pit of my stomach. Celestial metal weapons are very rare, and scalable. Which makes them invaluable.

That's the main draw of spirit-bound weapons. They are scalable. As the power of beings increases, the less effective normal weapons become on them. To the point that arrows or swords cannot pierce the skin even in the hands of opponents of comparable power.

But scalable weapons grow in power with their wielder. They have been known to scale to the extent that even in the hands of the unAwaked, they could wound a dragon. The stronger you are the stronger your weapon. The longer you've had it, the more effective it becomes in your hands.

People have been known to get so strong that they overpower their own weapons, having to discard them as they become useless against a more powerful calibre of opponents, not so with bound weapons. And this small tribe of people, in one of the most peaceful continents on Gaia, has one of the most versatile substance in the world, and in such large numbers. How?

The only other way to get a scalable weapon is by runic enchanting, and I haven't seen a single enchanted weapon let alone runic weapons since I've been to this sub-continent.

The other is imbuing a spirit into a weapon, which is more likely to get the first thousand wielders killed until it gains true sentience. Then a whole other slew of problems develop. These people are definitely in trouble.

I redouble my efforts in finding whatever threat has been detected. It has to be big for the tribes to be preparing to use these weapons. Weapons they at least had the foresight not to use while fighting the Sandersonians.

The tent flap opens and Crysta sticks her head inside.
"Prepare yourselves. We are about to have a fight on our hands," she says urgently.

I curse inwardly, frustrated by my inability to sense anything yet.

"Who?" I ask getting up and unsheathing my elven made dagger from a hidden pocket in my sash.

"The fae," Crysta says simply, closing my throat with that one word.

"Shit!" Is all I manage to say as Mira and I rush out into the night.