After removing the sword, the system screen appeared in front of him:
[Quest completed!]
[Mana points earned: 1.0]
[You have obtained the Magic Sword]
[Mana: 1.0]
[You have reached level one!]
Gail felt the warmth of the sword's hilt as he pulled it out of the stone with difficulty. The blade shimmered with an inner light, casting a soft, ethereal glow that danced along its razor-sharp edge. The intricate runes engraved along the fuller seemed to pulse with life, each one a testament to ancient magic and long-forgotten secrets. He could feel its power resonating through his body, a steady thrum that matched the beating of his heart.
He marveled at the craftsmanship: the hilt was wrapped in rich, black leather, worn smooth by countless hands, and the guard was shaped like the wings of a mythical bird, spreading wide to protect its wielder.
The mystical aura surrounding the sword was palpable, a whisper of forgotten legends and heroic deeds. For a moment, the weight of his trials seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of purpose and determination that filled every fiber of his being. The sword was not just a weapon; it was a symbol of his journey and growth, a testament to the courage and resilience he had found within himself. It was also a symbol of the miseries he endured and the goals it gave him.
With each passing second, Gail could feel the sword becoming an extension of his own will, its power merging with his resolve. It was as if the sword had been waiting for him, and now that they were united, nothing could stand in their way.
[New Quest: Return to the tribal chief]
[Reward: Information about your true heritage]
[Failure: You will lose your Mana]
Gail's eyes widened at the mention of his heritage. Could this quest reveal the secrets of his bloodline, the connection to the luminous man from his dreams? Memories of those vivid, enigmatic dreams flooded his mind: a radiant figure cloaked in light. The thought filled him with a renewed sense of urgency. He turned back toward the village, gripping the sword tightly. Each step through the dense forest felt lighter, his previous weariness evaporating like morning dew.
The forest, once a labyrinth of shadows and unseen dangers, now seemed almost welcoming. The sword's light pierced the gloom, casting away the darkness and illuminating the path ahead. The trees, which had appeared menacing and foreboding, now stood like silent guardians, their leaves rustling in approval. Gail's senses were heightened; he could hear the distant calls of night creatures and the whisper of the wind through the branches. The fear that had once gripped him was gone, replaced by a sense of invincibility and purpose.
He felt a newfound energy coursing through him, each step taken with confidence and purpose. The ground beneath his feet seemed to propel him forward, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and earth, grounding him in the moment. As he neared the edge of the forest, the village lights from fires flickered in the distance, a beacon of hope and familiarity.
When Gail returned to the village, the scene was transformed. The villagers, who had been going about their evening routines, gathered around him, their eyes wide with awe at the sight of the sword. Murmurs of amazement and reverence rippled through the crowd. The sword's glow illuminated their faces, reflecting their wonder and curiosity.
The chief stepped forward, his expression a mix of solemnity and respect. He was a tall man, with a weathered face that spoke of countless battles and hard-won wisdom. His eyes, sharp and discerning, softened as he beheld the sword. He raised a hand to quiet the crowd, his voice carrying the weight of authority and tradition. He spoke to the villagers, then turned to Gail, gesturing for him to follow. The chief's tent, a place of authority and wisdom, awaited them.
Inside the chief's tent, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Gail wanted to tell the story of the sacrificed children in the forest to the chief of the tribe, but he did not know how to speak their language. A matter which in his opinion was more important than finding a sword. The flickering light from the fire cast dancing shadows on the walls, enhancing the room's mystique. The chief motioned for Gail to sit on a richly woven mat adorned with intricate tribal patterns. The scent of burning sage and old leather filled the air, adding to the sense of solemnity. Once Gail settled, the chief began speaking in a low, deliberate tone. To Gail's surprise, the system began to translate the chief's words.
"You have proven yourself, Gail. When you pointed to the crystal and touched it, I realized that it had chosen you. You belong to a special lineage. The sword you carry is a symbol of your destiny and heritage. Long ago, your ancestors possessed great power, but their knowledge and legacy were lost over time. The crystal you touched is part of that heritage, part of their ancient wisdom. You are the key to unlocking that forgotten past. Now that you have the sword, a part of this heritage belongs to you. This power now allows us to understand each other's conversations. Everyone in the tribe knows it now and can speak and listen to you."
Gail, who had some understanding of this due to his connection with the system upon entering the Mana Stone mine and dreaming of the luminous man, was not overly excited. Anger filled his being, so he spoke about the cultists: "Oh my God, I'm so glad we can now understand each other. We will certainly talk about my heritage and the sword. But, chief, on the way to finding the sword, I saw something strange in the forest. A bizarre cult was sacrificing children."
The chief, who seemed to already know about this, shook his head sadly and said, "Did this happen during the downpour and storm?"
Gail replied, "Yes, and the lightning killed several members of the cult."
The chief said, "They were sacrificing for the gods. Probably the gods Anu, Enlil, and goddess Ishtar. They believe that by sacrificing children, the gods will show them mercy. I do not agree with this, but the gods seem to enjoy it. Did you see how the rain stopped shortly after? I thought the reason the storm didn't continue was the prayers of the tribe in the temple. We and some others prayed to the goddess Ishtar for your safe return."
Gail said, "The gods? You have multiple gods and think that sacrificing for them will actually save you?"
The chief replied, "Yes, gods who come from the sky. The Anunnaki gods. Tall, with human faces but sometimes with two or four wings. They usually do not show themselves to humans except to a select few. I told you I do not agree with the sacrifice of children, but they seem to take pleasure in spilling blood, and you saw how the storm calmed."
At first, Gail thought this was ancient superstition and a great folly. But then he remembered the luminous man he had seen in his dream. So, he told the story of his dream to the chief.
The chief bowed to him and said, "I knew you were probably from a special bloodline, which made me deem you worthy of the magical sword, but you have seen an Anunnaki god in your dream, and that is an even greater sign. I think you are a sacred person and hope you will show mercy on us."
The chief was scared. He had seen the wrath of the Anunnaki gods many times in his life. Although he secretly hated the Anunnaki, he tried to stay safe from their wrath by showing them respect.
Gail said, "Don't worry, chief. Nothing will happen from my side. Do you think there is no other way than praying and sacrificing to stay safe from the wrath of the gods?"
The chief, who had found some calm, thought for a moment and said, "A while ago, a great storm formed. We survived miraculously by praying. Half of the tribe's population was killed. At that time, we had more buildings, but the flood and storm destroyed them all. Then we built these primitive structures. In this area, a similar fate befell many tribes, and they started rebuilding or living in tents. But there are rumors that in the south, the eighth king built a great ship and saved himself, other people, and animals."
Gail listened intently, the pieces of his life starting to fall into place. The luminous man in his dream, the strange sensations he felt—it all connected back to this ancient legacy. The chief's words were like a soothing balm to his soul, offering clarity and direction. He was surprised by everything that happened. Surprised at the sacrifice of children to the gods. Wondering if gods exist or not. The story of the chief of the tribe about the eighth king who built a ship in the south to escape the storm also surprised him. He was in the same thoughts that...
Suddenly, the tent flap burst open, and a strong, stout figure limped into the tent.