Yaw-Yan felt like hurling—he had never run this fast in his life. Or at least, not since he realized he could finally move his body again after years of being bedridden due to his crippled state.
He hadn't even run this fast when he was escaping from the path of the Silao Grande a year ago. Well, mostly because the chief had carried him on his shoulder when he was too stunned to move, seeing the mountain-sized beast for the first time.
"Here, Yawboi, drink this," said a tan-skinned old man whose lower face was covered by a lush white beard. His receding white hair framed his weathered face as he approached the exhausted Yaw-Yan, who was on all fours, struggling to catch his breath.
The old man handed him a foot-shaped black fruit with red dots. The top had been sliced open, allowing Yaw-Yan to drink from it.
Yaw-Yan shakily reached for the cold fruit and quickly emptied its contents to quench his thirst. The sweet taste and the natural chill of the fruit—called suma by the tribe—were enough to calm his frantically beating heart.
Running at full speed while already fatigued from lack of sleep and the exhaustion of hunting had pushed Yaw-Yan's body to the brink. The moment he reached the tribe, he collapsed.
Luckily, the chief and other tribe members were outside at the time and managed to see him fall face-first onto the ground. Thanks to that, they were able to rush to his aid.
The old chief handed him another suma fruit, which Yaw-Yan gratefully accepted. This time, instead of gulping it down in one go, he held onto it while gazing at the distant sky.
"This is the first time you've seen such a thing, huh, Yawboi?" The old chief spoke while admiring the floating object that hovered soundlessly above them.
Yaw-Yan took a sip from his suma fruit, turned to the old chief, and nodded.
The chief chuckled and sat beside him. "I had the same look on my face when I first saw one, too."
"I was just a child when it happened. I cried into my mother's bosom all day because I thought it was terrifying back then," the old chief reminisced, laughing at the memory.
"What's that thing, anyway?" Yaw-Yan asked, taking another sip from his drink.
The old chief turned his gaze toward the boy and replied, "That's an ark of the sky people. From time to time, they stop in our valley to see the Silao Grande for themselves. Others venture into the more dangerous parts of the Silao Valley to hunt or search for useful plants. Sometimes, they're just here to train their younglings to fight the beasts."
Yaw-Yan nodded. He hadn't realized that the appearance of floating ships was a normal occurrence for the people of Silao Valley.
He had been scared out of his mind when he first saw it. He had thought it was an invading force coming to lay waste to the valley and his tribe.
Yaw-Yan mentally cringed at himself—he had probably spent way too much time watching anime and reading manga. The first thing that came to his mind when he saw something like this was battle and chaos.
"So, what was up with that explosion earlier?" he asked, recalling the loud blast from before. It was the main reason he panicked earlier. Yeah, that was definitely the only reason. Not because he was a dweeb.
"I have no idea, Yawboi. But every time the sky people stop in our valley, they always set off an explosion like that. Luckily, the Silao Grande didn't wake up from the noise. Or maybe it's just ignoring them," the old chief mused.
'So they just float there and do whatever they want!?' Yaw-Yan thought. Old chief said their younglings go hunting or gathering... Honestly, that just sounds like a school trip or some fancy cruise stopping by different places.
His thoughts were interrupted when the old chief's hand patted his head.
"Don't overthink it, Yawboi. The sky people just hover above our Silao Valley for a while, do a little hunting here and there, and then they leave. They usually stay away from us and leave us alone. Even if you encounter one of them, they'll just ignore you."
The old chief stood up and stretched his back. "Unless you attack them—then they'll retaliate. But they usually don't go for the kill. They just beat you up and leave you bruised. So don't go picking fights. Those people are strong. One of their younglings could probably defeat me with ease."
Yaw-Yan's eyes widened. The old chief was strong—probably the strongest in their tribe—and yet the people from that floating ship could easily overpower him? Not even the elders, but their younglings were enough?
The old chief chuckled at Yaw-Yan's reaction but simply shook his head. "Stand up, Yawboi. You've brought home a bountiful catch. Tonight's tribe meeting will be a feast. You should be proud of your skills."
He extended a hand, and Yaw-Yan grabbed it, getting pulled to his feet.
"You've gotten heavy. A year ago, you were light as a feather. Now you've got muscles all over you," the old chief remarked.
Yaw-Yan's cheeks flushed as he remembered how the chief had once carried him like a sack of potatoes when the Silao Grande changed its sleeping spot.
The old chief clapped him on the back. "Go wash up—you stink of sweat and blood from your hunt. Get some rest afterward. You'll need energy for the tribe meeting tonight. There's much to discuss, especially now that the sky people have returned to our valley."
Yaw-Yan looked up at the floating ship hovering over Silao Valley. Its presence made him realize something—despite all he had learned from the tribesmen about this land, he was still just a newcomer to this world.
He knew nothing about what lay beyond the Silao Valley. And with his condition—being powerless—he feared he might never get the chance to explore. If even the dangerous parts of the valley were beyond his reach, then what about the world outside?
Shaking off the thought, he turned around and headed toward the tribe settlement. Thinking about things beyond his reach was just depressing. Long ago, he had learned to be content with what he had—that way, he wouldn't waste time feeling bad for himself.
Few hours later
Yaw-Yan woke up to the rhythmic, festive beating of drums.
Yaw-Yan had only planned to take a short nap before helping with the preparations for the tribe meeting, but as he stared into the endless darkness outside his hut, he realized he had underestimated his exhaustion. Who would have thought that a few sleepless nights and hours upon hours of stalking prey would leave him so drained? Not to mention the sudden appearance of the floating ship that had given him quite a scare.
Shaking off the lingering drowsiness, Yaw-Yan pushed himself up from his bed. He grabbed a clean set of clothes, quickly changed, and pulled on his cloak—a thick, fur-lined garment perfect for warding off the biting cold of the Silao Valley nights.
Once he was properly dressed, he stepped outside and made his way toward the heart of the celebration.
The sound of music filled the air, accompanied by laughter and the rhythmic pounding of drums. A group of elder tribesmen played instruments crafted from the remains of beasts, producing a lively tune. Some people danced freely to the cheerful rhythm, while others moved in a more suggestive manner, hoping to catch the eye of a potential partner. Conversations and laughter echoed all around, and the children, who were usually confined to their huts at this hour, ran around excitedly, chasing each other with food in their hands.
Yaw-Yan stopped in his tracks, taking a moment to admire the lively atmosphere.
It had been a year since he died in his previous world and woke up in this one.
He still remembered those early days—how he had locked himself in his hut, too afraid to face this unfamiliar world. How he had spent countless nights crying, calling out for his parents, longing their warm embrace.
But the old chief had guided him forward, urging him to experience life rather than hide from it.
Yaw-Yan had started small—helping out where he could, cooking, cleaning, and crafting tools to make life easier for the tribesmen. Then he had learned about core weapons, and with growing curiosity, he questioned everyone about them, eventually realizing that this world was filled with magic.
He had asked the old chief to teach him how to wield it.
But no matter how hard he tried, he could not.
Rather than wallow in disappointment, he had set his sights on something he could do—hunting for tribute. His first attempt had been a disaster, nearly costing him an arm when he failed to take down his prey.
But he had returned with a vengeance, starting small—tiny rodents and weaker beasts. Slowly, he had improved, refining his skills. When he realized that a simple arrow was not enough to bring down larger beasts, he sought ways to compensate.
He couldn't summon magic weapons with a flick of his hand, so he learned to craft his own.
The old chief and the tribesmen had laughed at his determination, but they had still helped him gather the right materials.
His first weapon had felt like a triumph—until he realized that shooting an animal and hunting a beast were two very different things. Beasts didn't fall so easily.
Determined to find a solution, Yaw-Yan had spent days experimenting. His weapons couldn't conjure fire or control water, so he needed another method to weaken his prey.
Poison.
He had gone around the village, asking the tribesmen about anything that could subdue a beast. Eventually, an elder had told him about a certain grass that could wear them down.
Yaw-Yan had spent days refining it, adjusting the mixture until he finally found the right concoction.
The night he returned with his first successful tribute was the night he truly embraced this world as his new home. The tribe became his family.
A child's excited voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Yaw-Yan!"
One of the little ones had spotted him standing nearby, watching the festivities. In an instant, the child's loud call spread through the gathering, and soon, everyone was looking in his direction.
A wave of voices followed, calling out his name.
Before he could react, a group of young men and women pulled him into the center of the celebration.
Yaw-Yan laughed as they danced around him, playfully urging him to join in.
Then, the crowd parted as one of the elder tribe members approached. The dancing tribesmen stepped aside, allowing the elder to reach Yaw-Yan.
Yaw-Yan immediately understood what was about to happen. He lowered his head slightly to match the elder's shorter stature.
The elder dipped two fingers into a cup made from dried beast bone, its contents glowing faintly. With practiced movements, she brushed the glowing paste across Yaw-Yan's forehead while whispering a soft prayer.
When the ceremony was complete, Yaw-Yan bowed in gratitude. The elder smiled at him before returning to her seat.
On his forehead was the hunter's mark of the tribe, a symbol he had earned year ago. Tribesmen who bore this mark were the hunters—the providers who ensured the tribe's survival through their bountiful hunts. They were regarded as the lifeline of the tribe, receiving the highest respect. The ink used to create this sacred symbol was no ordinary dye; it was the very blood of Silao Grande, collected by the elders years ago.
Apparently, the elders had found a way to extract blood from the mountain-sized beast and had preserved it for significant rituals, such as honoring the hunters.
The celebration continued for quite some time.
The tributes were lined up for the entire tribe to see, as an elder, holding a cane crafted from beast bone, stepped forward. He lit the charcoal soaked in the blood of Silao Grande. The moment the flame touched it, a thick, green smoke rose into the air, swirling heavily like the mist of dry ice. The smoke bathed the tributes, signifying the extension of the beast meat's shelf life—an essential process to ensure that the tribe would always have food stored for the future.
Once the tribute ceremony concluded, the old chief raised his hand, signaling for the music to stop.
"Mothers, please take the younglings back to the huts to rest. The night is deep, and they need proper sleep."
A collective groan of disappointment rippled through the children, their protests echoing across the gathering. Yaw-Yan chuckled at their reaction.
Once all the children had been escorted back to their huts by their mothers, the true meeting was about to begin.
The elders spread a thick blanket over the ground for everyone to sit on.
The old chief was the first to take his seat, and with a simple wave of his hand, he invited the others to join him.
"Now, I know the night is late, and everyone is eager to get some rest, so I'll make this meeting brief," the chief began.
His gaze swept over the gathered tribesmen before he continued.
"First of all, there have been no signs of movement from Silao Grande. We all remember how, a year ago, we were caught off guard when it suddenly rose from its slumber and headed toward our settlement. Elder Ruka still doesn't know why such an event occurred, as Silao Grande has always shown signs before moving. From now on, we must remain extra vigilant in looking for any warning signals. Elder Ruka and the others have been closely monitoring it, so my children, you may continue your tasks without fear. I promise you that your families will not be trampled under the beast's feet."
The tribesmen expressed their gratitude to the old chief and the elders for their tireless efforts.
"As for the second matter of this meeting," the old chief cleared his throat before continuing, "the People of the Sky have returned to our valley."
For a moment, silence fell over the gathering.
The weight of his words sank in, filling the air with unease.
The old chief raised his hand to dispel the tension.
"Now, now! This is not the first time we have faced such an event. I know many of you feel uneasy about encountering them, as we all know they possess power far greater than ours. However, throughout the years, we have maintained an unspoken truce—they stay out of our affairs, and we stay out of theirs. I want everyone to continue this arrangement. Avoid them. Do not provoke them. Do you all understand?"
The tribesmen nodded in unison, silently acknowledging his command.
"That being said, their presence here will still affect us. The People of the Sky will likely send their young warriors to hone their skills by hunting the beasts of Silao Valley. The carnage they leave behind will result in two things for us."
The old chief raised a single finger.
"First, there will be an abundance of beast meat left for us to scavenge. This is good. It means we can secure more food with little effort."
He raised a second finger.
"Second, and more importantly, we must secure the beast cores before another creature consumes them. As you all know, if a beast consumes a core, it grows stronger—more dangerous. One or two may not be a problem, but hundreds, or even thousands, could bring about our annihilation. This has happened before, and it may happen again if we are careless."
His voice grew heavier as he spoke.
"Our ancestors left us with knowledge of the past—how, long ago, the valley fell under the rule of monstrous creatures, forcing our people into hiding. I do not want our future generations to suffer the same fate. That is why every man and woman of this tribe must be diligent in their duty. Do you understand?"
"WE UNDERSTAND, OLD CHIEF!"
The old chief nodded, satisfied that his warning had been heard.
"Starting tomorrow, every hunter's task is to track the young warriors of the People of the Sky. Secure the beast cores first, then gather the remaining meat."
The old chief and his people continued discussing the upcoming collection plans, preparing themselves for the days ahead.
It was late at night when Yaw-Yan volunteered to take the first watch. Since he had gotten a good rest earlier and wasn't feeling tired, he figured he could guard the tribe for a couple of hours until the next guard took over.
He walked around the perimeter of the safe valley, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings. In the distance, Silao grande loomed, its massive silhouette blending seamlessly into the darkness. The dim glow of the night sky barely illuminated its vast form, the sleeping giant resting in the heart of the land.
As he admired the sight, an odd sensation tugged at the edge of his awareness—an instinct, a pull in his vision toward his side.
Yaw-Yan turned.
A few feet away stood a girl.
Her waist-length blue hair shimmered under the soft glow of the night, each silken strand swaying gently with the evening breeze, as if woven from moonlight itself. The subtle movement made it appear almost weightless, cascading down her back like a flowing river of sapphire. The cool air played with the edges, lifting them just enough to reveal glimpses of her slender neck and delicate shoulders.
Her face was ethereal, almost otherworldly—smooth, unblemished skin with a porcelain-like radiance, as if crafted by the hands of the gods themselves. Her features were refined yet soft, with high cheekbones that hinted at elegance beyond her years, a petite nose, and lips of the faintest pink, shaped so perfectly that they seemed almost unreal. She looked young—perhaps fourteen or fifteen—but her presence carried a quiet grace that transcended age.
She was dressed in an immaculate academy uniform, primarily white with elegant green-lined accents that traced the contours of her fitted bodice, emphasizing her poised form. The long sleeves ended in delicate cuffs, neatly folded, and the crisp collar framed her slender neck. A pleated skirt fell just above the middle of her thighs, swaying slightly with each movement, revealing smooth, graceful legs that seemed to glow faintly under the starlight.
But what truly held Yaw-Yan captive were her eyes.
Brilliant emerald, deep and luminous, like twin gems reflecting the vastness of the night sky. There was something mesmerizing about them—something ancient yet filled with youthful curiosity. They shimmered with intelligence and a quiet mystery, as if they held secrets of the universe just waiting to be uncovered. And yet, they gazed at him with an innocence that sent an unfamiliar warmth blooming in his chest.
For the first time, Yaw-Yan felt truly speechless.
His mind blanked, all coherent thoughts slipping away like water through his fingers.
Only one word surfaced, escaping his lips before he even realized it.
"Beautiful."
End of Chapter 3.