The night air remained thick long after the dreadful presence faded into the shadows. The forest whispered around them, but Alaric's mind was louder—echoing with the chaos of the battle. He leaned against a tree, exhaling slowly, while Rhogar kept watch, his body tense and nose flaring.
They had fled. Left the corpse of the porcupine beastman behind. No time to claim anything. Still, one thing itched at Alaric.
"You told me to eat him," he said at last, breaking the silence.
Rhogar looked over, ears flicking. "Yes."
"You said… take his skill-heart?"
Rhogar nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You kill. You eat. You take what's theirs. That is the way of the wild. The way of the strong."
Alaric frowned. "That sounds like cannibalism."
Rhogar rolled his eyes and scoffed. "You soft people… always thinking in laws and morals. Out here, there is no law but survival. A warrior who kills and leaves the corpse is a fool. A dead enemy is only useful if you gain from them."
He paused and added, "You didn't eat. Must be because you're a halfling."
Before Alaric could reply, Rhogar's ears twitched again. He turned, his body coiled like a spring. "Come. We're close."
***
By morning, they reached Rhogar's tribe.
The settlement was nestled between sharp cliffs and winding jungle roots. Carved spikes marked its border. Dozens of beastmen moved with animal grace—most of them tigers, though others bore traits of lions, panthers, or wolves. Muscles rippled beneath scarred fur. Bone weapons, clawed armor, and red paint adorned them like war trophies.
Children wrestled near a stream. Elders chanted low guttural hymns beside smoky fires. Warriors sparred in rings of stone, blood already staining the sand.
Alaric kept his steps steady, refusing to look intimidated.
At the heart of the village was a ritual circle—a large pit ringed with bones and statues of snarling beasts. Totems painted in blood and ash towered like silent witnesses.
"Tribal ground," Rhogar explained. "Here we remember. Here we bond. Kill feasts. Blood pacts. Dream chants."
He pointed as two beastmen slashed their chests and pressed foreheads together, roaring in unison. An elder traced runes into their wounds.
"It's how we show loyalty. Pain is truth."
Alaric's gaze lingered on a warrior who dipped his claws into a bowl of thick dye, drawing a jagged symbol across his chest before throwing himself into combat. No hesitation. No mercy.
The wild wasn't just their home—it was their law.
Rhogar guided him to a den tucked under a moss-covered cliff. Thick furs, skulls, and bundles of dried herbs covered the inside. It was raw… but it felt like shelter.
"This is ours now," Rhogar said.
"Ours?"
He grinned. "While our faith-lock holds."
"Faith-lock?" Alaric echoed, uncertain.
"You saved me. I protected you. Our gods saw it. There is a thread now. Not permanent—unless we make it so. But it is enough to be acknowledged."
Moments later, Rhogar stepped into the central ritual circle and let out a thunderous roar.
The tribe gathered fast, falling quiet.
"I return from the wilds," Rhogar bellowed. "With blood and bond. This halfling is my faith-lock—seen in battle, tempered by wrath."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. A few snarled. Some glared with suspicion. But many—especially the younger warriors—stared at Alaric with newfound curiosity.
An old beastman with a mane of gray fur stepped forward, sniffing the air. "A halfling? You tethered to a halfling?"
"His soul did not run in fear," Rhogar answered simply. "He stood."
The elder grunted. "Then let it be so."
The crowd gave a three-toned howl—short, low, high.
It echoed like thunder.
Alaric swallowed. Somehow, he'd become part of this place.
***
That night, they sat near a fire. The quiet between them was no longer tense—but filled with unspoken thoughts.
"I need to understand what happened," Alaric said, breaking the silence. "The porcupine… during the fight, something changed. He got stronger."
Rhogar cracked a bone with one hand and tossed it aside. "He's a Gluttony-bound."
Alaric frowned. "Meaning?"
"His god is Gluttony. His divinity feeds on outside power. Fear, mana, pain, even pride. It makes him faster, stronger, more savage."
Alaric nodded. "Divinity. So that's what I felt. It was like… his presence changed."
"Divinity is not like mana. Mana is the world's breath—it fuels skills. You use it to enhance strength, bend elements, extend movement. The more mana you have, the longer you fight. The more you can do."
Rhogar poked at the fire with a stick, sparks rising.
"We beastmen absorb mana by instinct. Just breathing, fighting. But humans… they use rituals. Controlled methods."
"Accumulation," Alaric muttered.
Rhogar grunted. "That. Slow, but efficient."
"And divinity?"
Rhogar stared into the flames. "Divinity is from your god. The stronger your devotion—your emotion, belief, instinct—the stronger your gift. Each god gives different fire. Mine is Wrath. It makes my body stronger, claws sharper, blood hotter."
He flexed his hand. A faint red shimmer ran under his fur like molten veins.
"But it burns out fast. You need mana to sustain it."
Alaric nodded slowly. "That's why he lost power when I dragged the fight. But…"
He hesitated.
"My Dominion failed on him," he finally said. "It felt like it was… sucked into a void."
Rhogar tilted his head. "Domination?"
Alaric blinked. "That's… what I call it. It lets me impose my will, take control. But it failed. Completely."
Rhogar smirked. "You got lucky with me. Took me by surprise. That one? He had stronger will. And you… maybe only strong enough to use it once."
Alaric's jaw clenched. "Then how did I sneak up on him? How did I move without a sound?"
Rhogar narrowed his eyes, curious now.
Alaric leaned back, thinking.
It wasn't Dominion.
It wasn't just instinct.
It was... absence.
Like he became the space between heartbeats.
He whispered to himself, "Humility."
Rhogar raised a brow. "What?"
"Nothing. Just… trying to understand."
The fire popped.
Above, stars pierced the sky.
Around them, beastmen danced in circles, sparring with glee and blood. The tribe was alive with chaos and rhythm, loyalty and brutality.
This world had rules.
And Alaric intended to master every one of them.