Odyssey Of Survival

One of the men gripping his curved blade took a step forward, his muscles tensed as he prepared to strike. His face twisted with rage, and Nate could see the fire in his eyes—he wanted blood.

But just as the man was about to swing, a sudden shout echoed through the camp.

"Enough!"

The voice was deep and commanding, carrying the weight of authority.

The man halted immediately, his sword mere inches from being raised. A flicker of frustration crossed his face as he gritted his teeth. Nate, on the other hand, clicked his tongue in annoyance. His fingers, which had been twitching with anticipation, curled into a loose fist before he sighed. He had been looking forward to some action. His patience for dealing with people was wearing thin, and a fight would have been a good way to shake off the irritation of the day.

He shifted his gaze towards the source of the voice.

An elderly man was approaching, escorted by two others who walked slightly behind him. From the way people instinctively moved out of his way, Nate could tell this was someone important—likely the leader of this settlement. His robes were slightly more elaborate than the others, made of layered fabric instead of the simple, tattered robes most of the villagers wore. His hair was gray and tied back, his skin marked with deep lines, but his eyes were sharp, observing the situation with quiet intelligence.

"Lower your weapons," the old man commanded as he stopped a few feet away.

One of the six men surrounding Nate scowled in clear frustration. "Why?" he demanded. His voice was laced with bitterness. He clenched his sword even tighter, his knuckles turning white. "Tati was my friend!" His hateful gaze flickered toward Nate, seething with resentment.

The old man exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. His next words were slow and measured, carrying a weight that silenced the murmurs around them.

"Have you all lost your sense?" he asked, his voice low but stern.

The six warriors stiffened, their hands hesitating over their weapons.

"Ka brought him here," the old man continued, his gaze sweeping over them. "Even after this stranger killed Sebek and Tati, Ka did not capture him. He walked beside him—not as a prisoner, but as an equal. Don't you all think that means something?"

A heavy silence fell over the group.

The old man then turned to Nate, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he dipped his head slightly in a show of respect. "I'm afraid, young man, that you will have to stay with us until Ka wakes up."

Nate's gaze drifted to Ka, still lying unconscious on the ground. His breathing was steady, but his face was pale from the blood loss. Nate considered his options. He could have explained himself now, but what was the point? He wasn't in the mood to convince people of anything. Besides, if Ka had any authority here, then waiting for him to wake up would make things easier.
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After a moment of contemplation, Nate gave a small nod.

"Fine."

Seeing that Nate wasn't resisting, the old man relaxed slightly before addressing him again. "In that case, would you mind staying in one of our tents for the time being? We need to keep an eye on you."

Nate didn't respond. He simply turned and began walking towards the tent without waiting for directions. His expression remained unreadable, a lazy indifference hanging over him. The people around him watched with wary eyes, whispering among themselves.

As he passed by the children, they instinctively backed away, their small faces frozen in fear. Some clutched onto their mothers' robes, peeking out with wide, fearful eyes. Even the women, who had been gathering food and tending to tasks just moments ago, quickly scrambled out of his path, their footsteps hurried and uneven.

To them, he was something foreign—something dangerous.

But Nate didn't care.

Their fear, their whispers, their judgment—it all meant nothing to him. He wasn't here to make friends or earn trust. He had only one goal: to learn about the beasts, to understand where they came from, and to figure out why he was here in this specific time and place.

Everything else was irrelevant.

The tent was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the small gaps in the fabric where the setting sun managed to peek through. The air inside was warm and dry, carrying the faint scent of woven fibers and dust. The space itself was mostly empty, save for a few scattered bundles of cloth and some supplies tucked away in the corners.

Nate stepped in, his movements slow and deliberate, his mind already heavy with exhaustion. He glanced around briefly before deciding not to overthink things. He found a decent spot near a pile of neatly folded cloth, dropped himself onto the ground, and leaned back against it, adjusting slightly to make himself comfortable.

The moment his back touched the fabric, he felt the weight of everything settle onto him. His muscles, sore from the battles earlier, throbbed in dull protest. His mind, drained from whatever that black energy had done to him, clouded over with fatigue. He let out a slow exhale, closing his eyes, allowing himself a moment of peace.

And just like that, sleep claimed him.

It wasn't deep sleep, but it was enough. He wasn't sure how long he had been out before a strange sensation pulled him back to consciousness. Something was touching his face—light and fleeting, like the gentle press of fingers against his cheek. His instincts kicked in instantly.

His eyes snapped open, his hand shooting up with lightning speed. Before the person could react, he grabbed the hand and twisted it sharply, yanking them forward. In one swift motion, he pulled them onto his chest and clamped his other hand around their throat, his grip tightening as he prepared to snap the air out of them.

A choked gasp filled the air.

His senses sharpened.

The scent hit him first—soft, fragrant, unlike anything else he had smelled in this place. It was faint but unmistakable, a mixture of wildflowers and something earthy, something natural. He realized it must be some kind of perfume, though he wasn't sure what women in this time used to make it. Maybe crushed petals? Or fragrant herbs mixed with oil?

His grip loosened immediately.

His gaze dropped to the person beneath him, and for the first time, he registered the delicate features staring back at him.

It was a girl.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she coughed lightly, her slender fingers brushing against her throat where his hand had just been. But rather than fear, there was something else in her expression—curiosity. Her wide, striking green eyes shimmered with something unreadable as she studied him.

Nate was momentarily caught off guard.

She was stunning.

Her dark, wavy hair framed her face perfectly, cascading over her shoulders like silk. Her skin was smooth, sun-kissed, with a natural glow that made her look almost ethereal in the dim light of the tent. Even through the simple, loose robes she wore, he could see the elegant curves of her figure. She didn't need extravagant jewelry or elaborate clothing—her beauty stood on its own, effortlessly captivating.

Nate exhaled sharply and pulled his hand away completely, shifting back as he muttered, "I thought you were someone trying to kill me."

The girl coughed again, rubbing her throat lightly before speaking. Her voice was soft, carrying a hint of amusement despite what had just happened.

"It's alright," she said gently, tilting her head slightly as she continued to observe him with those striking green eyes. "You react quickly."

Nate, still slightly disoriented from waking up so abruptly, ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah… force of habit."

She smiled slightly but didn't say anything else for a moment. Instead, she reached to the side and lifted a small wooden plate.

"I brought you food," she finally said, holding it out toward him.

Nate blinked, his gaze dropping to the plate in her hands. He hadn't even noticed it before, but sure enough, there was something on it. A round, slightly uneven piece of what looked like baked dough.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning in slightly as he murmured, "Is that… bread?"