In front of Damian, there was something so beautiful that he was about to thoroughly ravage and defile.
The moment he’d come back and caught up with Uncle Adam, Tribesmen had emerged from their huts and looked at him with reverence before saying ridiculous things like "Tokoloshe, your morning offering is prepared" and "Tokoloshe, the offering awaits you" and other such nonsense that made him want to tell them he was just a hungry young man who wanted to eat, not some spirit requiring tribute.
He hadn’t bothered correcting them.
And now he was sitting in the sizable hut where only Warriors were supposed to eat, the space reserved for those whose bodies burned with Mana and required sustenance to match, and spread before him was a feast that made his stomach clench with anticipation.
Multiple pitchers of Auroch’s Grace stood in a row, the sacred milk of the Stonehide Aurochs glowing with that faint milky-white luminescence that marked it as something more than ordinary sustenance. The light seemed to pulse gently, as if the liquid itself was alive with the Mana that the great beasts absorbed from the fertile soil near the Roaring Stone Mountain.
Beside the pitchers lay slabs of roasted meat from creatures he couldn’t immediately identify, their surfaces charred and glistening with rendered fat that had been seasoned with crushed herbs and mineral salts gathered from the Spirit Stones. The smell alone was enough to make his mouth water, rich and smoky and promising satisfaction that went beyond mere nutrition!
There were roots that had been baked in hot stones until their flesh turned soft and sweet, their skins split open to reveal orange and yellow interiors that steamed gently in the cool morning air.
There were clusters of berries arranged on broad leaves, their colors ranging from deep purple to bright red to the pale green of those that grew only in the shadow of Ancestor Pillars.
There were strips of dried meat that had been preserved with salt and smoke, tough enough to require real chewing but packed with concentrated nourishment that could sustain a Warrior through days of travel.
And there were eggs, massive things that must have come from birds larger than most, their shells speckled with patterns that seemed almost deliberate in their beauty, their insides cooked to perfection over careful flames.
Sustenance was everything in the Lands of Stone.
Mana didn’t feed everyone, and it was a type of energy that permeated through your body without fully nourishing the flesh that contained it. Unless you were an existence who could generate Mana from within, you still needed to eat just like any creature that walked or crawled or flew across these ancient lands.
And even if you could generate Mana from within, your body required something in order to produce something.
This was a truth that even the mightiest Warriors couldn’t escape.
So every single Warrior ate, and the more powerful Warriors could eat feasts ten times what a Flesh Awakening Warrior could consume, their enhanced bodies demanding fuel to match the energy they expended. The Chieftains of great tribes were known to devour entire roasted beasts in single sittings. The Anointed Ones of Neolithic Empires had kitchens that never stopped cooking, their appetites legendary even among those who had never witnessed them firsthand.
And right now, after everything he’d been through, Damian didn’t delay for even a moment as he reached out and began to eat.
Uncle Adam didn’t interrupt him.
At this moment, it was only the two of them inside this entire place, as if the tribe had conspired to give them a sacred time just for themselves. The other Warriors had been quietly redirected elsewhere. The Tribesmen who might have wandered in had been turned away at the entrance. Even the sounds of the village seemed muted, distant, as if the world itself recognized that this meal required privacy.
Uncle Adam allowed the Young Lugal to eat in silence, and this was actually a good habit and a wise practice in the Lands of Stone, to not taint such a sacred time with talk.
When you ate in silence, you focused on the task at hand and you did it with enjoyment.
When you ate in silence, you honored the creatures that had died to nourish you and the Tribesmen who had labored to prepare the food.
When you ate in silence, you gave your body the attention it deserved after pushing it through trials that would have broken lesser men.
So Uncle Adam only sipped on a few drinks, and he watched his Young Lugal eat.
When more than half of the items in front of Damian had disappeared into his stomach, when the pitchers of Auroch’s Grace had been significantly depleted and the platters of meat showed bare spots where abundance had once been, only then did it look like Uncle Adam was about to speak.
As for Damian, he was lost in the tastes and the immensity of the food, drowning in sensations that he hadn’t allowed himself to fully experience in a while.
The more he ate, the more he felt the Mana within his body burn with increasing activity, as if the sustenance had given it another source of energy to catalyze everything it was doing. His existence burned with vibrancy that seemed to intensify with every bite he took.
Tendrils of Mana sparked around his skin and leaked out of his mouth and eyes, blue wisps that danced in the air before dissipating, visible evidence of the power that was building within him as his body converted food into fuel and fuel into strength.
At this moment, Uncle Adam spoke.
"You must butcher every single one of them."
BOOM!
Uncle Adam began with such heavy words that Damian stopped mid-bite and looked at the old man with a piece of roasted meat still held in his fingers.
Big guy, why would you start with something so brutal?
He blinked as he wanted to ask this question aloud, but Uncle Adam continued with a heavy gaze that brooked no deflection.
"Every single one that betrayed your father and your mother. Every single one that betrayed the Vakochev Bloodline and everything it stood for."
His voice grew harder.
"Your uncle, that murderous saint who smiles while children burn, you have to butcher him and spread his blood across the Lands of Stone until even the rocks remember what happens to those who betray their own blood."
Damian listened quietly as he resumed eating with a calm gaze, his teeth tearing through meat while his mind processed words that demanded response.
He replied a moment later, his voice steady despite the weight of the subject.
"That murderous uncle you’re talking about now stands as one of the highest Anointed Ones in what is arguably one of the strongest, if not currently the strongest, Neolithic Empire across the Lands of Stone."
He took another bite, chewed, swallowed.
"His individual power alone can overcome any Warrior we’ve ever met, and the collective power of millions of Warriors under him, of the armies that he’s amassed across these lands over eight years of consolidation, even a decimal percentage of a single legion of his forces could walk in here and wipe us out in a matter of seconds."
He reached for a pitcher of Auroch’s Grace and poured himself another cup.
"The Lands of Stone are vast and dangerous, but that man and many others have managed to stand on top of it at this moment, crushing anyone who dared challenge their authority."
He met Uncle Adam’s eyes.
"How exactly shall I go about spilling his blood across these jagged stones?"