The chief extended a warm invitation, "Please, enjoy yourselves!"
The tension, which had hung heavy in the air, began to dissipate. Spears were lowered, and the hostile glares softened into curious glances. Mika and his companions were welcomed to a feast, a spread of unfamiliar delicacies that piqued their curiosity and challenged their appetites. They were only fish and fruits, but they had their own authentic appeal.
"I can't help but wonder," Roznok whispered to Mika, his twitching eyes darting between the strange dishes that smelled wonderful but the taste remained a mystery, "aren't they... partaking in a rather... cannibalistic practice?"
Mika nodded, his voice a hushed reassurance, "Yep, they do. But they're more akin to the sharks of the sea. It's a part of their culture."
Despite their initial reservations, Luna and Kimaru proved surprisingly adaptable. The food, though strange to the eye, was surprisingly delicious. Even Roznok, his skepticism slowly fading, found himself enjoying the meal.
A relief washed over Roznok's face and he began to eat the meal, it tasted good as they said, but the fact that the food looked unappetising made it displeasing.
The Zavarian tribes were renowned for their aquatic prowess, their hunting grounds primarily the vast ocean. Occasionally, they ventured onto land, seeking out the land animals. However, animals rarely except Tiger Frogs roamed the area.
The Tiger Frog, a creature of peculiar habits, subsisted on a diet of wood. It would apply an acidic substance from its tongue, transforming the fibrous material into a nutrient-rich soup. This unusual adaptation had made the Tiger Frog a formidable creature, often seen lurking in the forests during the tumultuous battles of Unabī.
The Zavarian tribes, with their distinctive blue skin, bald heads, and gill-like necks, were a humanoid species with a strong connection to the sea. Mika, however, knew that this tribe was merely a fragment of a larger, more diverse population. Somewhere far beyond the horizon, there were others like them, sharing their unique physiology and cultural heritage.
The Zavarians' presence in this region was unexpected. The quality of the waters here was inferior to their ancestral home, causing them to appear weaker and less powerful than their legendary forebears.
Based on the books foretold, they'd appear more muscular and stronger, but now they were weakened to a mere average human strength.
During the feast, eyes were still on them. Stuck like glue.
Discomfort all around, even for Luna who kept getting stared at places that shouldn't be laid eyes on.
"Eyes up here," Luna's gaze narrowed, irritated by their blatant disrespect of staring at her breasts. "What's with them, Mika?"
"Well, they're asexual. Like most fish, they lay eggs. Females lack breasts, so they nourish their young through mouth-to-mouth feeding."
"Zur zets znich zomung zzechx. (Do not be rude to the female)," the chief commanded, his tone stern. The tribesmen, spears raised skyward, then brought them down with a sharp thud, a gesture of apology for their transgression.
Mika, initially mistaking the occasion for a celebration, realized the truth upon consulting the Zavarian calendar: it was a day of duel. The tribesmen's attire, adorned with red, yellow, and blue stripes, hinted at the significance.
Red signified power, the lifeblood spilled in combat. Yellow symbolized their predatory nature, their eyes often glowing with a hunter's intensity. Blue, the color of the sea, represented their pride as ocean warriors.
"You have a remarkable knowledge of our culture, friend. How?" the chief inquired, his tone laced with admiration. "I've studied many subjects, including historical and geographical that involves the cultures all around."
Yet, something about the chief's staff, specifically the glowing crystal, intrigued Mika. Could it be a manifestation of a mystical phenomenon? The chief himself was unaware of its true power, believing it to be a hereditary heirloom that granted him an affinity for human language.
Mika, however, suspected a more profound explanation. Perhaps it was a conduit for wisdom magic, or even the cause of their inexplicable arrival in this foreign land.
Dismissing these thoughts, Mika turned his attention to the duel. The contest would take place in a spacious field, allowing ample room for movement.
The combatants would be armed with wooden weapons of their choice. Sougo and his companions, as visitors, were free to participate or observe. Opting for the latter, they settled in to watch the spectacle.
The duel, a traditional tribal rite, followed a simple rule: once a combatant stepped outside the designated ring, they were eliminated. The chief's son, Zarura, was the primary contender, his participation intended to inspire the warriors' spirits.
His physique was that of a seasoned athlete, lean and muscular, with a height of around 5'7". His gaze held a fierce intensity, a warrior's spirit that mirrored Sougo's.
The first round of the duel commenced, a display of honor and skill. Swords, spears, and axes clashed, shattering and bending under the force of each strike. The crowd roared with excitement as the combatants pushed their limits.
Zarura, the chief's son, was a standout. His speed and strength surpassed all others, a force to be reckoned with. However, something about his physique puzzled Mika. Unlike the others, who were lean and wiry, Karura possessed an almost unnatural level of muscle definition.
"Zer... ZROMUGH, ZARURA! (You... GO DOWN, ZARURA!)" Zuma, the final contender, bellowed, his voice filled with determination.
Zarura, unfazed by the challenge, remained calm and focused. His sword glinted in the sunlight as he readied himself for the attack. Zuma lunged forward, spear raised high, aiming to end the fight.
With effortless grace, Zarura dodged the attack, his movements precise and deadly. The chief watched with a knowing smile, aware that this was his son's fifty-fourth duel, and he had never lost.
Mika couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The other fighters, despite their skill, lacked the physical prowess of Zarura. He wondered if their reliance on the sea, their natural source of strength, might be the reason for this discrepancy. Could Zarura's extraordinary physique be a result of an unnatural enhancement, perhaps tied to the mysterious crystal on the chief's staff?