Days passed since Torya's awakening, and word had already spread across the tribe — the Emberkin finally had their first Ascendant. What once was a tribe merely struggling to survive now moved with newfound vigor.
Torya wasted no time. His days were spent improving every aspect of their small society — rebuilding, reforging, and guiding. He spent hours by the forge, teaching others while also learning more about the flow of Aether within him. With every beat of his heart, the power pulsed, subtle yet strong.
He remade the spear tips, reshaped the axes, and reforged the knives together with the others. Under his hands, the bronze gleamed with a faint, serpentine pattern — the same markings that ran along his arms.
When he explained that anything he crafted using his Flame Hands gained strength through Aether, the tribe was stunned. The weapons glowed faintly when held, their edges sharper, the balance smoother. The young hunters tested them eagerly — and gasps erupted as the spears heated faintly, cutting through hides and bark with ease.
The tribe was reborn with purpose. They hunted, trained, built, forged, and planted — as though an unseen flame now guided their hearts.
Torya introduced changes too. The foragers began cultivating more vegetables and edible roots. "A strong body needs balance," he said as they cleared more patches for gardens, the soil rich and dark. The children carried water while the elders tilled, laughter filling the clearing that once only echoed with the sounds of survival.
Lera led the training of the children, her voice stern yet full of pride. Twenty children — twelve boys and eight girls — gathered each morning to learn spear drills and simple defense techniques. Their eyes burned with determination, imagining themselves awakening just like their leader.
Even the elders watched proudly. For the first time in their memory, the tribe's future no longer looked like a mere struggle for tomorrow — it looked like the birth of something greater.
But for Torya, there was one pressing concern.
The bronze ores — those he traded from the Lapinfolk before, and the ones he gained through the system's early rewards — were nearly gone. The forge grew quiet, and without metal, the tribe's progress would stall.
So he gathered a small group — six of their best hunters — and decided to head east, toward the lands once scouted before. Their goal was simple: to locate more ores or, if fortune favored them, find a mine they could call their own.
They set out at dawn, the air cool and misty, their footsteps soft over moss and roots.
The first days were uneventful. They crossed winding streams and thick groves of ferns. Torya often paused, scanning their surroundings, using his heightened senses to feel the subtle pulse of Aether through the terrain. He could faintly sense the presence of minerals underground — faint metallic currents humming through the soil — but nothing strong enough yet.
On the second day, they discovered a cluster of herbs unlike any they'd seen — red-veined leaves that radiated faint warmth. Torya collected them carefully, realizing their potential as medicinal or alchemical ingredients.
By the third day, they came across the tracks of large beasts — clawed prints as wide as a man's chest. The tribe grew alert, weapons ready, moving quieter through the woods.
On the fourth, they found themselves in battle.
It happened as they passed through a narrow ridge lined with thick vines — a faint hiss broke the silence. Out of the shadows emerged figures draped in scaled skin and carrying crude stone blades — a hunting party of the Snake People. Their yellow eyes glimmered with malice.
The two groups locked eyes, and there was no need for words. The battle erupted instantly.
Torya's group moved in tight formation, a result of their many drills. The hunters fought with precision — one blocking, the other striking. The air filled with shouts and the clash of weapons. The Snake People were fierce and fast, their movements unpredictable, but the Emberkin's new weapons turned the tide.
Every spear thrust burned with faint heat; every strike left smoldering wounds. Torya himself fought at the front, his spear moving in arcs of red light as Aether flowed naturally through his limbs.
The battle lasted only minutes before the Snake People retreated, leaving behind two dead and several wounded. The Emberkin suffered only minor injuries. They buried their dead foes beneath the soil — not from respect, but as a warning to others who might follow.
By the fifth day, their supplies ran low, and fatigue was setting in. Yet fate had another encounter waiting for them.
As they descended a rocky slope toward a stream, they heard a familiar voice calling out in the distance. From the thicket emerged a figure with long ears and light fur — a Lapinfolk trader. Recognition flashed between them.
"You again," Torya said with a small smile.
The trader laughed nervously, carrying a large pack on his back. "I didn't expect to see you here, Emberkin. I'm trading in this part of the forest — safer than the west these days."
Torya nodded. "Do you still deal in ores?"
The Lapinfolk's long ears twitched. "I do. Bronze and a bit of tin. Hard to move, but worth something if you've got the trade."
Torya gestured for his men to bring out their packs. Inside were furs from their hunts, dried herbs, and a few leatherworks. The trade went smoothly.
"You drive a good bargain," the Lapinfolk chuckled as they exchanged goods. "I'll remember this spot. Maybe next time, I'll bring more metal."
"Do that," Torya said, gripping his arm. "And stay away from the western ridge. The Snake People hunt there."
They parted on good terms, and the Emberkin began their journey home, the added weight of ores lightening their spirits.
Yet Torya's mind remained thoughtful during the return.This can't go on forever, he mused. Trading for ores is uncertain. We need our own mine — something stable.
The thought lingered even as they neared the borders of their territory. The forest around them had grown quiet, almost too quiet. Torya slowed his pace, hand instinctively resting on his spear.
Then, the silence shattered.
A guttural roar tore through the trees, so deep it shook the ground. Birds scattered into the air as the bushes ahead exploded outward — revealing a massive beast.
It was like a tiger, but larger than any they had seen — its body as big as a bull, its fur striped with black and crimson, and its fangs curved like blades. Its golden eyes fixed on them with predatory hunger.
The hunters froze.
"Torya…" one of them whispered.
He raised a hand, signaling them to fall back. "Leave it to me."
"Torya—"
"Now." His tone left no room for argument.
He stepped forward, pulling off his fur coat and tossing it aside. The cold wind brushed against his skin, the red patterns on his arms pulsing faintly as Aether surged through him. In one hand, he gripped his spear; in the other, his dagger — both weapons bearing the markings of the forge.
The beast roared again and charged.
Torya met it head-on. The ground trembled under its weight as claws slashed and metal met flesh. Sparks flew. He ducked low, spinning to the side, thrusting his spear toward its ribs — but the creature's hide was like stone. It barely flinched.
He rolled aside as a massive paw struck down, cracking the earth where he once stood.
The battle raged, the forest filled with the sounds of growls and the sharp clash of bronze. Torya moved like a flame — fast, fluid, alive. Every motion was guided by instinct and Aether, his body reacting before thought could follow.
Minutes stretched into twenty. Both combatants were wounded, their breaths heavy. Blood stained the ground — some red, some dark.
Then Torya saw it — a brief opening. The beast hesitated, muscles twitching in exhaustion.
He lunged.
The spear pierced its abdomen with a sickening crunch, the bronze tip glowing bright red from the heat of his Aether. Before the beast could roar, Torya drove his dagger into its neck, cutting deep.
The tiger staggered, letting out a final bellow before collapsing to the earth.
Silence fell.
Torya stood there, drenched in blood — not his own. His chest rose and fell, his heart steady. The world seemed still for a moment, save for the faint hum of Aether swirling around him.
He had grown stronger.
When he turned, his people were staring at him with awe — their faces lit by pride and belief. For them, this was not just a victory. It was proof.
They had a protector.They had a leader.
And above all — they had hope.