Chapter 13: The Burden Of Leadership

Chapter 13: Chapter 13: The Burden Of Leadership

...The Arena fire burnt bright. Bright enough that night seemed like day.

Moments later, far from the arena, they made camp and sat around a small fire.

They were huts all around them—parts of the village, but no one was willing to spend this depressing night alone.

They sat in a semi-circle around a bone fire. One of those saved, a young woman went around passing stale bread.

Babarians loved meat. And ate it for most occasions. But no one was in the mood for it. Not while they could still smell the burnt flesh of their comrades from the arena.

Victor took the stale bread. It felt hard to the touch. Hard enough that he assumed he could use it as a weapon.

Regardless, he was exhausted and his stomach groaned for food. He had no choice but to bite into it.

It tasted bland. But still better than nothing.

Only after a couple of bites did he notice the others were not eating.

Shit! Now I look like an asshole, eating when everyone is still in mourning.

He gave an awkward cough, setting the bread aside. But the young girl that shared the bread thought it was a sign he needed liquid and hurried over with a wooden cup of beer.

Victor could not refuse it, but at the same time, he could see the eyes on him.

His left eye twitched in annoyance at the girl, but he still took the cup.

Then he turned away from the judging eyes.

Why are they still looking at me? Please just let me be in peace. It’s not like I am the one that killed all your family members in the arena.

"Vengeance." One of the Babarians spoke up in a hoarse voice.

Everyone turned to him. His eyes remained on the campfire, filled with so much pain.

He was a strong looking one, almost of equal size with Popo. His tattoos were segmented lines flowing around his body.

He was known as Jaja.

"Boramo has done the abominable. That BASTARD has no honor."

His words stirred something in the hearts of the others, and Victor saw it in their eyes.

Their pain.

"But..." another, spoke up. A younger one, "how do we even do it? If we try we will—"

"Have you been inflicted with Cowardice, young one?" Jaja interrupted, prompting the others to reach for their weapons.

The young babarian panicked, waving his hands. "No, no, no... you misunderstand me Uncle. I am just saying... well, you’ll saw his power. He can even summon a plague."

Those words eased the moment.

"The young one is right." Popo said expression stern. "And as it stands, we are all that is left of our people. Of our culture and tribe."

Those words reminded them of their reality. But Jaja’s frown hardened.

"So what are you saying? That we stay here and do nothing!?" He rose to his feet, fist clenched.

"That bastard murdered my Umul, and our unborn child. MINE! And you want me to breathe the same air he does!?"

"You have a duty to the tribe." Popo slapped back.

"I had a duty to HER!!!"

"Well. She is dead!!! They are all dead. And if we don’t do something about our numbers, so will our way of life."

Jaja gritted his teeth. By now, he and Popo had their heads locked onto each other—skin to skin— pushing back and forth like male antelopes in mating season.

They locked gaze for a few seconds, then Jaja spoke again. "You are supposed to be tribal chief. How will our people rest with the ancestors when you won’t wash their huts, with his blood."

Jaja pulled away, still angry. He spat into the bonfire then walked away in heavy strides.

The place had become silent again. After a few seconds, Kiki broke it. "He is right, you know."

Popo sighed as he went back to seat. Of course he knew Jaja was right. But they were so little.

Just thirteen survivors. And that was counting the wounded ones that were rescued.

As leader of what was left, he had to think of the big picture. And right now, that was preserving the tribe. Still, he spoke. "Even if we want to, Boramo came from beyond the Boundary. None of us is beyond level ten, we won’t be able to cross it."

Kiki went silent again. This one, she could not deny.

Victor watched their interactions silently. In the game, only two survivors were left. The player and Kiki.

And it was the player’s duty to carry out revenge unbehalf of the tribe and then populate the tribe with Kiki.

This knowledge made Victor look at Kiki’s body again.

Control yourself Victor. This is not the time for such thoughts. Besides, her betrothed is alive this time around.

This was essentially the storyline associated with using the Babarian Skin.

Of course, this was where the free Exp in the Arena became useful. Essentially, players could grind and lift their level using the half dead babarians and the still roaming swarm to level 10 so that they could cross the boundary that separated the Southern Bloodline from the rest of the world.

Of course, even with the free Exp, grinding to level ten was not so simple.

But Victor knew there was another way. Another way to go through the boundary without waiting to become level 10.

If not that he had used the Babarian skin the most, he wouldn’t have accidentally stumbled upon it. In fact, they was a very high probability that he was the only player that knew this method.

Unless one other person. But that did not matter. Not now at least.

Victor planned to use this other method for himself. After all, leaving this place would be the end of the first trial.

However, he had a feeling that revealing this method was not the brightest idea right now.

There was just too much tension. Instead, he concentrated on sipping his beer.

Cough cough... why is it so sour.

The others turned to him again, and he looked away, minding his business.

Popo and Kiki continued talking, but soon, Popo walked away angrily.

As he did, someone silently, stealthily followed behind him. A Babarian woman.

The day’s fatigue eventually reached everyone and slumber came.

Unfortunately, not all were interested in sleeping...