The meat was still clutched in my hand, untouched, the juices glistening under the flickering firelight as the tribe feasted around me. Their teeth tore into the flesh, their lips smeared with grease, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the flames.
I pretended to take a bite, my jaw moving slowly, chewing nothing, swallowing air. The taste—raw, gamey, unseasoned—lingered in my imagination, making my stomach twist with disgust.
Then—
An idea struck me.
Why not?
I bit into the meat—hard—my teeth sinking into the charred flesh. But before it could touch my tongue, before the flavor could register, I sent it straight to the System Storage.
The moment it vanished, I took another bite—and another—and another—chewing nothing, swallowing nothing, but keeping up the act perfectly. The others didn't notice. They were too busy eating, too busy laughing, too busy living in this raw, unfiltered world.
Within minutes, the entire roasted piece was "gone"—not eaten, but stored, discarded, forgotten.
Eric clapped me on the back, his voice a rough growl. "Dexter, let's go..." His grinning face was smeared with grease, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I'll show you around... our tribe."
Kina turned her head, her dark eyes locking onto me. "Don't go into the forest," she warned, her voice firm but concerned. "And come back quickly... before it gets really dark..."
I nodded, grinning back at her. "I will, sister."
The night air was cool, crisp, the scent of earth and smoke clinging to the breeze as Eric, Patt, Luke, and Joe led me through the tribe. The huts were scattered in a rough circle, the fire at the center casting long, dancing shadows across the ground.
The men pointed out everything—the hunting racks, the storage pits, the areas where the women prepared food.
"Winter's coming soon," Patt grunted, his voice a low rumble. "That's when the other tribes start attacking..." His fingers tightened around the haft of his spear, his knuckles whitening. "Food gets scarce... and men get desperate."
Eric nodded, his expression darkening. "We guard the front hard..." He gestured toward the dense tree line that marked the edge of the tribe's territory. "No one gets through without us knowing."
Luke spat into the dirt, his voice dry. "Last year, the Blackfang tribe tried..." His lips curled into a snarl. "We sent them back with fewer men than they came with."
Joe grinned, flexing his arms. "And this year? " His eyes gleamed with bloodlust. "We'll do the same... worse."
I listened, nodding along, my mind racing. Winter meant war. War meant chaos. And chaos? That was an opportunity.
Then they took me to Ryan's hut.
Fuck.
It was massive—far larger than any of the others, built from thick, heavy logs lashed together with animal sinew. The roof was thatched with layers of dried grass and hides, sloping steeply to shed rain and snow. But the real defense was behind it—
A sheer, towering mountain face, jagged and unclimbable, rising straight up from the ground like a natural fortress. No one could sneak up from behind. No one could attack from that side. The only way in was from the front—and that meant going through the entire tribe first.
"Ryan's the chief," Eric muttered, his voice low, respectful. "His hut is the safest... strongest..." He gestured toward the mountain looming behind it, its dark shadow swallowing the hut in protection. "No one gets past that without dying first."
I studied the layout—the distance between Ryan's hut and the others (fifty, maybe eighty meters), the way it overlooked the entire tribe from its elevated position.
The chief could see everything from here. Control everything. The hut was isolated—no other huts nearby—just open space and the impenetrable mountain at its back. It was strategic. Smart. Untouchable.
Perfect.
We circled back to the center, the fire still roaring, the tribe still feasting. My eyes flickered to the kids—the teenagers, clean-shaven, their bodies slim and unmarked by years of labor. Some of them were girls—not my taste yet, but their mothers?
Oh, I'd be attacking them soon enough.
I decided to integrate into their group. Kids were easy—trusting, curious. They'd ask questions. They'd talk. They'd help me understand this world without raising suspicion.
And besides—
If I got close to the kids?
I got close to their mothers.
Eric and the others returned to guard the tribe, resuming their patrols. I suppressed a smirk as I approached the group, my voice warm and disarming.
"Mind if I join you?" I asked, already settling onto the ground beside them. My gaze flicked across their faces—young, trusting, oblivious to the chaos I was about to unleash. The hunt had only just begun.
I struck up a conversation, probing gently. They revealed that the boys—Liam, Adam, Paul, and Noah—had started learning hunting and tracking from the tribe's seasoned hunters.
The girls, Clara and Edith, were being taught cooking and chores like weaving clothing from leaves. I listened, nodding thoughtfully, filing away every detail.
They had no idea what was coming.
The firelight danced across the faces of the kids as they huddled together, their voices brimming with youthful excitement.
They spoke with the kind of unfiltered honesty that only children possess, their words painting a vivid picture of the tribe's hierarchy—one that I was quickly learning to navigate. I found that Males are given priority and seen as Alpha.
"Hunters get the best food in winter," Noah said, his eyes shining with determination. He was a scrawny kid, but there was a fierceness in his voice that betrayed his ambition.
"Even when food is scarce, they eat first. Because if they don't survive, who will hunt for the tribe?" His small fists clenched as if he were already gripping a spear. "And the girls... they all want hunters to be their man. Because hunters never go hungry."
I leaned in slightly, my voice casual but probing. "So hunters are like... the most important people here?"
"Yeah!" Liam, another boy with a mop of unruly hair, chimed in eagerly. "Then come the guards, like Eric and Patt. They protect us, so they get food next. Then the rest of us."
I nodded slowly, letting the words settle like stones in my mind.
So that's the order. Hunters first. Guards second. Everyone else—an afterthought.
My thoughts raced ahead, weighing the implications. If I wanted to climb in this tribe, I'd have to become a hunter. Or at least convince them I was one.
But the idea rankled. A healer should outrank them all—what good were hunters if their wounds festered? If their bones are set wrong? Yet here, strength was measured in blood spilled, not lives saved.
Fine. If they wanted a hunter, I'd give them one. But when the time came, they'd learn the truth: the hand that heals holds more power than the spear that strikes.
Even if I am not a doctor, I can offer remedies from my Supermarket Store—medicine for fevers, painkillers for aches. To them, it may well be a miracle.
Noah grinned at me, his teeth flashing in the firelight. "You should become a hunter, Dexter. Then you'll never go hungry, and all the girls will like you."
I chuckled, shaking my head as if the idea were too grand for me. "Maybe I will."
Noah's excitement was palpable. "Meet me tomorrow morning. We can play together. I'll show you where the hunters practice with their spears!"
I nodded, my smile genuine. "Sure, little brother."
The moment was interrupted by a sudden commotion at the edge of the clearing. The tribe's chatter turned to cheers as Mitt, Ryan, Tusk, and the other hunters emerged from the forest, their shoulders burdened with a massive animal tied to a frame of sticks.
The creature was unlike anything I'd seen before—a cross between a deer and a moose, its body muscular and powerful, with huge, branching antlers that looked like they could gore a man with ease. The hunters carried it with pride, their faces smeared with dirt and sweat, their chests heaving from the effort of the hunt.
The tribe erupted in cheers, rushing forward to greet them. I followed, my eyes locked on the animal—fresh meat, fresh opportunity. The hunters lowered the beast to the ground, and the women immediately began preparing it, their stone knives flashing in the firelight as they started to butcher the carcass.
Kina dashed toward Tusk, her face lighting up as she threw her arms around him. He laughed, lifting her off the ground in a playful spin before setting her down. Kerry and Hina were already deep in conversation with Ryan and Mitt, their voices mingling with the excited chatter of the tribe.
Mitt's gaze landed on me, and he grinned, his teeth white against his dirt-streaked face. "Dexter!" he called, his voice booming over the noise. "How are you doing? Is everything okay?"
I met his eyes, my voice steady and respectful. "I'm fine, Elder Ryan, Elder Mitt." I glanced at Kerry, my tone warm. "Aunt Kerry and Aunt Hina—and everyone—have taken good care of me."
Kina pouted, her hands planting on her hips as she turned to me. "Brat... did you forget about your sister so soon?" There was a playful edge to her voice, but I could see the genuine affection in her eyes.
I laughed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "Never, sister."
Ryan clapped me on the shoulder, his grip firm and approving. "Good to hear. You're one of us now, Dexter. And in this tribe, we look out for each other."
I nodded, my gaze flickering from the moose-like animal to the hunters, then to the women—Ruth, Vera, Ada—their bodies glowing in the firelight, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the flames.
Ruth was sitting with the other women, her pale skin almost luminous in the flickering light, her white hair catching the glow like silver.
Vera was leaning back against a stone, her blonde hair loose and wild, her bronze skin gleaming with sweat. And Ada—she was helping with the butchering, her strong arms working efficiently, her white hair tied back in a braid, her body moving with the confidence of a woman who knew her worth.
This was my tribe now.
And I was just getting started.
As the hunters began to recount their tale, their voices filled with the thrill of the chase, I let my gaze wander over the gathering. The women were already dividing the meat, their hands skilled and sure.
The firelight cast long, shifting shadows across the faces of the children as they watched the hunters with wide, adoring eyes.
The boys—lean, muscular even in their youth, their chests puffed with the dream of one day wielding spears like Mitt and Ryan—clenched their small fists, imagining the weight of a weapon in their hands, the thrill of the hunt.
Their eyes gleamed with hero-worship, their voices buzzing with excitement as they whispered about the glory of bringing down a beast, of being the ones the tribe relied on.
The girls—young, their bodies just beginning to curve into womanhood—sat close together, their giggles soft, their gazes flickering toward the strongest of the hunters.
They whispered among themselves, already dreaming of being chosen by one of them, of being claimed by a man who could keep them fed, keep them safe. Their cheeks were flushed with the heat of the fire and the thrill of possibility, their fingers twisting in the hides they wore, imagining the day a hunter would look at them the way Mitt looked at Kerry.
I watched them all, my mind racing.
The hierarchy was crystal clear now—the unspoken rules, the desires, the power dynamics that governed this place. The hunters were at the top, revered, feared, desired.
The guards came next—respected for their strength, their ability to protect. And everyone else? They followed, hoping for scraps of attention, scraps of food, scraps of security.
I smirked internally, my fingers flexing at my sides.
I knew exactly how to play this game.
I would become indispensable.
I would become a hunter—not just in name, but in power, in influence, in control.
And then?
I would take everything I wanted.
Mitt, Tusk, and the others who had just returned from the hunt were now gathered around the fire, their faces smeared with dirt and blood, their laughter rough and unfiltered as they tore into the roasted meat.
The scent of charred flesh and sweat filled the air, mingling with the earthy smoke of the fire. I sat back in the shadows, watching them, my mind churning with plans, with strategies, with the knowledge that I was already ahead of them all.
The first thing I needed was privacy.
I couldn't risk being caught with food or drinks from the Supermarket Store—things that didn't belong in this world. If they saw me with something fancy, something packaged, something unrecognizable—fear would turn to suspicion. Suspicion would turn to violence.
I couldn't let that happen.
My fingers twitched, and I pulled up the World Map function in the System. The screen flashed to life, a sea of red dots scattered across the digital terrain—each one representing a person, a location, a point of interest. I tapped one experimentally, and a small, transparent cursor appeared, hovering over the dot like a beacon.
Fuck.
I could name them.
I grinned, my fingers moving with precision. I clicked the dot hovering over Kerry's location, and a text box popped up, blinking expectantly. I typed—
Kerry.
The name materialized above the dot, floating in bold, red letters. It was satisfying—like claiming her, like marking her as mine before I'd even touched her.