Free Web NovelChapter 15: Chapter 15: The Castaways
Kellar followed Krag out to a wider clearing near the edge of the village, where the young men and women from the adulthood ceremony were already lined up. Even Tor was there, standing tall with a dark expression. The older hunters were absent; this arena belonged strictly to the new generation, and Krag was the one in charge.
Krag stepped out in front of the thirty youths, a rugged grin splitting his bearded face.
"Welcome, all of you!" roared Krag, his booming voice commanding instant attention. "You are a strong harvest this season. There are plenty of fresh arms here, so listen up: divide yourselves into groups of four so we can begin the trial!"
The youths scrambled. Sand, dirt, and leather boots scrambled as friends locked arms and strong hunters paired up with other muscle-bound prospects. Kellar stood still, watching the chaotic shuffle with a cold, analytical eye. Within less than a minute, everyone had found a place.
Everyone except for four people.
Kellar stood on one side. Across from him stood two stocky young hunters who looked like close friends, and behind them was a young woman named Mila.
Mila was slender compared to the massive tribal girls, her dark hair tied back, holding a primitive wooden spear with white-knuckled tension.
The four of them should have formed the final group, but the two boys backed away, looking at Krag with blatant aversion.
"Iron Rock!" one of the boys called out, pointing a defiant finger. "Can we just form two groups of three with the other squads? We want to split up."
Krag’s thick brows furrowed, his massive arms crossing over his broad chest.
"The rule is four to a hunting pack," said Krag, his voice dropping into a stern rumble. "Give me a good reason why I should break the tribe’s formation."
"We don’t want to be in a pack with a girl and an invalid!" the youth sneered, casting a disgusted look at Mila before glaring directly at Kellar. "They’ll only drag us down during the hunts. We can’t risk our own skins just to lose our lives keeping a couple of anchors alive!"
Hearing the word invalid directed at his slender frame triggered an unexpected, violent surge of white-hot fury deep inside Kellar’s chest.
It was like a sudden, sickening warp back to his middle school days. Before he became a brilliant mechanical design engineer, Kellar had been a chubby, hyper intelligent tech-nerd—the textbook definition of a school pariah.
He had endured years of relentless bullying, isolation, and mocking laughter from the athletes and popular kids. He remembered the exact day his father had seen enough, pulled him out of school for a full year, and dragged him into a hardcore, old-school boxing gym.
His father had forced him to train day and night, lifting iron and hitting the heavy bag until his hands bled, pushing his body past its limits until he returned to the school halls a year later as a shredded, dominant champion who broke the jaw of the very first boy who tried to push him.
These primitive motherfuckers think they can play the same game, Kellar thought, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek as his emerald eyes locked onto the two boys.
I tore down the hierarchy in that world, and I will dismantle these cavemen piece by piece.
Ding!
The sharp, digital chime of the system cut straight through his internal fury, expanding into a vibrant neon blue window right before his eyes.
[Main Quest Triggered: The Castaway Champions]
[Objective: Complete the hunting trial in Rank #1 while operating strictly in a two-person squad with Mila.]
[Rewards: +5 Strength, +5 Stamina, and +1 Technology Point.]
[Hidden Optional Objective Triggered!]
[Objective: Fully dominate and fuck the rejected maiden, Mila.] [Reward: Special Inherited Trait Unlock (Bound to the Prey’s compatibility).]
Kellar’s inner engine flared with sudden excitement. A technology point was an critical asset, and that hidden objective made his blood run instantly hot.
Even though he had thoroughly emptied his tank inside Maya’s tight womb just an hour ago, his eighteen-year-old primitive body was already fully recharged, his thick rod hardening instantly against his leather tunic at the mere thought of conquering another maiden. It really was fantastic to be young, genetically enhanced, and bursting with raw, unadulterated vigor.
Krag looked at the remaining four youths, a heavy, conflicted sigh escaping his chest. To a seasoned veteran like Iron Rock, every single pair of hands was valuable labor meant to bring meat back to the winter stores; a wasted squad meant empty stomachs for the village. But he also knew the brutal reality of the forest, and sending a fractured, resentful team into predator territory was a death sentence he didn’t want to authorize.
Before the veteran hunter could make a decision to reallocate the teams, Kellar stepped forward, his hand resting casually on the smooth bone hilt of his new ceremonial dagger.
"Don’t waste your time trying to force these cowards, Krag," said Kellar, his voice clear, dominant, and entirely unbothered as he looked the veteran dead in the eye. "I’ll make a team with her. The two of us are more than enough to bring back the biggest prize in the woods."
