Chapter 16: Acquired, The Lion Tribe.
There was an old man in Erindale, seeking water veins in the parched land with a wooden rod. For eighty-four days, he found none.
‘With that foolish stick, you’ll never locate a water vein,’ his acquaintances taunted. But the old man never lost faith.
After all, his ancestors and their ancestors before them had discovered water veins using this very method.
It had been a long time since Erindale became known as the Land of Death. His family had left the land long ago. Yet, the old man persisted, seeking water veins with a rod made from a birch tree.
A young lad, with a gaunt face, stepped forward offering to help.
The old man didn’t trust the youth, who smelled of ink and paper, barely giving him the time of day, merely waving his rod dismissively.
Undeterred, the youth followed suit, snapping a birch branch to form a Y-shape. Exhausted, the old man sat and watched the youth’s attempt, which looked more like a comical dance than a method to find water.
“That’s enough.”
The old man croaked. Although the youth seemed like he might collapse from exhaustion any moment, he didn’t give up. He was naive and foolish, much like the old man himself.
For the last time, the youth moved the birch branch and then stopped. It was a spot the old man had checked dozens of times. The youth began to dig with a pickaxe.
Clang!
Clang!
“Stop that. There’s no water vein there...”
Whoosh!
But at that movement, cool groundwater sprouted forth.
“Wha...?!”
The old man wet himself.
****
“The benefactor has arrived in the village! Prepare a feast! We must slaughter a cow!”
“Village Chief, it’s been a week since the cow starved to its bones.”
“Then prepare a pig.”
“The wolf took the pig a few days ago.”
“At least get a chicken ready.”
“We fed the last chicken to the sick children.”
The Village Chief stared at Ascal.
A resolute determination flickered once again in the Chief’s eyes.
“Hero! Even if it’s unworthy, please be satisfied with my own body!”
The Chief suddenly brandished a long knife.
“Ancestors in the heavens! Watch over me! Your descendant is coming to join you!”
'Is this person of Aztec origin?'
Ascal hurriedly interjected.
“Stop! Please stop. I still have plenty of food in my backpack. Let’s have a feast with that.”
“Can we really? After finding underground water for the village, you’d even provide food? Are you perhaps a saint?”
Before the Chief could spout more nonsense, Ascal took out dried meat, preserved food, and hard bread from his backpack.
Thrown hastily into a pot with the freshly drawn underground water, it soon gave off a mouth-watering aroma.
“Ah... never thought I’d eat a stew again instead of tree bark...”
The elderly villagers licked their bowls clean, tears streaming down their faces. One of the old men patted his frail stomach contentedly.
“How can we ever repay this kindness, dear benefactor? We are truly grateful.”
“Then I shall take my leave.”
Ascal rose from his seat, his voice dry.
‘It was the same this time as well.’
With a singular focus on success, he struck with the pickaxe and found a water vein.
It was natural from the beginning. His own emotional state had nothing to do with the outcome. Or rather, upon reflection, maybe it was impossible to fail as long as there was a lingering wish deep inside to experience failure...
While Ascal was lost in his spiraling thoughts, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
It was a girl holding a flower resembling a dandelion.
“Ah, Ashuna. Want to present a gift to our benefactor?”
The girl was the village chief’s daughter.
Blushing, she lowered her head and offered the flower.
Being someone who, in a previous life, was born in the land of courtesy in the East, refusing such a gesture of gratitude would have been impolite.
Ascal was about to accept the flower, but paused.
“Is there a tradition implying that if I accept this flower, I’m agreeing to marry the giver?”
“You’re sharp. Caught on quick, didn’t you?”
Tsk.
The village chief clicked his tongue in mild disappointment.
“Still, if you ever encounter a troubling matter, Benefactor, why not try our tradition? Of course, it won’t involve things like marriage.”
“What tradition is that?”
“It’s called ‘Seed Sowing’.”
“?”
****
Fortunately, the seed sowing that the village chief spoke of was a perfectly normal tradition.
Atop a hill, they practiced a ritual of blowing on a flower called Kamsu-bire, scattering its seeds far and wide.
“There’s a legend passed down in our tribe. Long ago, when our people were on the brink of starvation, a black-haired man appeared. He blew on the Kamsu-bire, and where its seeds landed, fruit sprouted from the parched earth.”
The chief spoke, gazing at the distant horizon.
It seemed like a familiar, cliche story, but the chief appeared to genuinely believe it.
“Consuming this fruit, the ill regained health, and the old were transformed back into young men. As everyone in the village regained their vitality, the man departed. From then on, he was revered as the tribe’s guardian deity, known as Mazar-nim, an ancient term symbolizing fortune.”
The village chief knelt.
“Benefactor, we are truly grateful. Thanks to your discovery of the water vein, we can survive. Even though we may not be as prosperous as in the distant past, at least now we can see hope. Thank you.”
Ascal helped the chief to his feet.
“It was merely luck. If not me, someone else might have found the water vein eventually.”
“Hahaha, if that were true, Shibah wouldn’t have spent 84 days searching.”
The chief handed Ascal the Kamsu-bire.
“Now, blow it towards the west. After doing so, you may leave. We have no intention of detaining our savior. Nonetheless, you are our tribe’s benefactor.”
“That’s right.”
“A benefactor indeed.”
Other tribe members gathered on the hill to watch Ascal perform the rite.
Despite the hill not being very high, some were panting and clutching their waists, seemingly strained.
“Come to think of it, you also have black hair. Hahaha. Perhaps, you are the Mazar-nim of our tribe?”
“To consider me a deity is quite the exaggeration.”
Feeling the weight of many eyes upon him, Ascal decided to hasten the ritual.
He faced the west and blew on the Kamsu-bire.
In an instant, seeds dispersed, traveling far and wide.
“They’re flying so far...”
And while the Kamsu-bire seeds touched the ground, nothing out of the ordinary occurred.
‘Phew. I was fearing for no...’
Ascal turned to leave...
And just as he was about to leave,
“Look there! Look! Something’s growing!”
“It’s fruit, it’s fruit, it’s fruit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
‘F*ck.’
Without looking back, Ascal ran at full speed.
'How could this be? This isn't some joke.'
An ancient legend actually coming true?
Whoosh.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his leg.
‘Mazar-nim is escaping!!!!!! Catch him!!!!!!!!!!!’
One of the tribe's people had shot a paralyzing dart into Ascal’s leg.
‘Which tribe in their right mind captures their guardian deity with a paralyzing dart...’
Ascal’s consciousness began to fade.
On the brink of blacking out, a story he once heard resurfaced in his mind.
A moment later, it dawned on him...
‘Today’s lucky constellation was Leo...’
‘The direction of luck is west...’
This was Erindale Village in the west, where the Lion tribe resided...
***
When Ascal regained consciousness, he saw the all elders of the entire Lion tribe bowing before him.
Fortunately, there seemed to be no after-effects from the paralyzing dart. In fact, his mind felt as refreshed as if he had been administered propofol before a colonoscopy in a past life.
“I beg your pardon, Mazar-nim! If you wish, you may take our lives!”
“Everyone, rise. I’m not this Mazar-nim you speak of.”
“Mazar-nim is angry!!!!!!! Offer sacrifices!!!!!!!”
“Ancestors!!!!!!! Watch over me!!!!!!!!”
Ascal intervened to stop the chief from harming himself again.
“Alright, let’s say I am Mazar-nim. What would you like me to do?”
“Please allow us to eat the Eryl fruit.”
Eryl fruit.
It seemed to be the fruit that had grown when the Kamsu-bire seed touched the ground earlier.
“You have my permission.”
“Ooooooh... Mazar-nim has granted a miracle to the Lion tribe!”
The village chief, head tilted toward the sky, shed tears like a waterfall from his parched face.
“Everyone, eat the Eryl fruit!”
The elders, with their deeply wrinkled hands, held the Eryl fruit and all bit into it at once.
Chewing the fruit thoroughly, as if to extract every drop of juice, the village chief suddenly convulsed and closed his eyes.
Then, something strange happened.
The chief’s original hair began to fall out, muscles contorted, and white smoke started to emit from him. Black liquid seeped out from his pores.
‘That smell...’
Shielding his face with both hands from the stench, when Ascal looked again, an unbelievable sight greeted him.
The elders had all transformed into robust young warriors.
“Hahahahahahah! Is this what youth feels like?”
“Bring on the wolves or lions! We’ll make a meal out of them!”
The elders, who were frail just moments ago, were now brimming with vitality. Consequently, the tent felt oppressively hot.
“Guardian deity Mazar-nim! We will head west! With the vow our tribe has held for ages, we’ll subdue the monster-filled lands in the west of Elver.”
“A year will suffice. Please accept our token. In a year, after our conquest, we will be your loyal guardian unit!”
“Alright, kids. Follow us. We’ll teach you hunting!”
With that, the transformed elders, or rather the muscle-bound warriors, led the children west.
Ascal, left behind, looked at the lion tooth necklace given to him by the village chief and sighed deeply.
‘I swear I’ll never think about succeeding again. Being mistaken for a god, of all things.’
Come to think of it...
‘Wait, how do I get back to the city?’
