Let's play Minecraft in a world of Swords and Spells

The night has passed, and the dawn's light rises.

Kuzan gripped a towering giant axe, overlooking the newly erected tent frame in the damp breeze.

The road to rebuilding the tribe was still long, but life had quietly returned, and surviving members, regardless of their lineage, all devoted themselves to the work.

"Lord Chief, the meat of the [Fangtusk Wild Boar] has been distributed to everyone," the elder, dressed in brown-scaled Lizardkin attire, said respectfully to Kuzan. The tattoo on his face was vibrant, freshly painted not long ago.

"When we're in private, don't call me that," Kuzan said casually.

"Of course, big brother," Noman chuckled, sitting down on a moss-covered stone nearby.

Kuzan didn't respond but continued to reminisce about what had happened during this time.

The Kozawa Tribe had suffered greatly in this incident, with only one-tenth of the original number of tribe members remaining. If it weren't for the influence of his seventh sister, they wouldn't be in their current state.

In a situation where almost all elder-level individuals had lost their lives during the evacuation, he had drawn a new pattern in front of the ancestral spirits, officially taking on the most important role in the tribe, and no one had any objections.

Ironically, the original Kozawa Tribe had a history of inter-family conflicts, but after enduring such a devastating blow, they had finally united completely...

In complete silence, there were no praises for the seventh sister, no words of gratitude for saving the tribe. People acted as if it had never happened.

Although in the past, the birth of a Lizardkin that is mixed with another race that made them resemble humans on the outside have happened a few times, most of them died due to neglect or are sold to slavery toward those detestable humans.

In the past, he would admit to anyone that the Kozawa tribe is a proud warrior clan, however, after seeing these folks couldn't even fulfill the rightful glory owed to their saviors, he couldn't really guarantee the truthfulness of those words anymore.

"If it weren't for those cursed humans, we could have left the forest to find a new homeland!" Such words were often heard during this time... cursed humans?

...To be able to transfer their anger towards humans onto the mixed-race, without batting an eye, in some ways, weren't we even more despicable than those humans who always sought to enslave us?

Shame, evasion, reluctance.

These emotions lingered in the hearts of all tribe members.

"Big brother, are you thinking about the seventh sister?" Noman spoke up.

"...Yes," Kuzan replied.

"Big brother, I've been thinking, is it really okay to let her go like this? If there's that kind of power in the tribe..." Noman finally voiced what he had been holding back for a long time.

With that kind of power, they could surely lead the entire tribe into an unknown bright future, right?

The prophecy from the past, "The strongest warrior in the history of the clan will be born in their lineage," had already produced a clear chosen one. She descended like the wind but left just as swiftly.

"Yes, that was indeed the most powerful punch I've ever seen in my life," Kuzan recalled the events from a few weeks ago when Melon returned.

After handing her the ashes of her birth mother, he had made a request for her to show him her strongest strike that wouldn't kill made him end up dead..

In the end, amidst flying rubble and a massive crater on the mountainside, his view was elevated to an unprecedented height. That was just her casual punch, containing immense pressure and the aura of a dragon, which blasted a large hole into the forest where they had resided for so long.

He didn't know about what kind of things that she had experienced ever since she left the village that made her end up that strong, but he was certain of one thing: Melon had at least killed a dragon in the past, something that he was aware of.

What she had experienced over these years and how she had become so powerful, he couldn't know, but from the perspective of her black magic user companion, she must have had quite an adventure.

Watching her leave with the urn, there was a reason besides the forest not having the capacity to contain her.

"But we don't have the right to ask anything of her," Kuzan said.

"...You're right, big brother. We already owe her too much," Noman nodded thoughtfully.

At this moment, raindrops fell gently, washing away the bloodstains from the forest after the battle. Lizardkin bathed in the rain, closing their eyes and accepting the cleansing raindrops.

Kuzan stood up, turned, and descended the steps.

Yes, even though they didn't deserve it, it would be too unfair to his seventh sister if they gave up now. Someday, he would lead this group of tribespeople out of this forest, which felt like a prison. By then, the tribe could hold their heads high and say they didn't embarrass their seventh sister.

"Noman."

"I'm here, big brother!" Noman followed Kuzan's footsteps down the stairs.

On the hill of the evening glow, a gentle breeze brushed over numerous towering tombstones, over the fist-sized pits that symbolized farewells.

The horrendous event had its curtain drawn to symbolize it's closing, and another legend was about to begin.

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