Chapter 6: To Prove One's Worth
Jiho awoke to the sound of the village stirring. The soft crackling of the dying fire, the murmurs of villagers, and the distant calls of the wild greeted him as he opened his eyes. For a moment, he forgot where he was—the primitive surroundings a stark contrast to the modern world he once knew. But the reality of his situation quickly set in. This was his new life, and there was no turning back.
The system's voice echoed in his mind, a cold reminder of his ongoing mission.
[New Objective: Integrate into village life.]
Jiho rubbed his eyes and sat up, the stiffness in his muscles a harsh reminder of his weakened state. The makeshift bed of straw and animal skins had done little to ease his discomfort, but at least it was better than sleeping on the bare ground. He looked around, noticing that most of the villagers were already up and about, preparing for the day.
Mira, the woman who had first approached him, was outside, tending to a small fire. She glanced up as Jiho stepped out of the hut, her expression neutral but not unkind. Jiho nodded in greeting, hoping to convey his gratitude for the small bit of hospitality he had received.
"Toran," Mira said, pointing to the large central hut where the village elder resided. Her tone suggested that Jiho was expected to meet with him.
Jiho nodded and made his way to the hut, his mind racing with thoughts. As a historian, he had spent years studying ancient civilizations, but nothing had prepared him for living in one. The stone-age village around him was like a living museum exhibit, yet the reality was far more brutal than anything he had read about.
The inside of Toran's hut was dimly lit, with a small fire in the center providing the only source of light. Toran sat cross-legged by the fire, his eyes closed in meditation. Jiho hesitated at the entrance, unsure if he should interrupt.
"Come," Toran said, his voice surprisingly strong for someone of his age.
Jiho stepped inside, his movements careful and deliberate. He sat across from Toran, mimicking the elder's posture, and waited for him to speak.
Toran opened his eyes, studying Jiho with an intensity that made him feel like the elder could see right through him. After what felt like an eternity, Toran spoke.
"You are different," Toran said slowly, his voice laced with suspicion but also curiosity. "Not like us."
Jiho nodded, choosing his words carefully. "I come from… far away," he said, knowing that the truth would be difficult to explain, let alone believe.
Toran's gaze remained fixed on Jiho. "Why are you here?"
Jiho hesitated, his mind working to craft a plausible explanation. "I was lost," he said finally, the truth hidden within the ambiguity. "I have nowhere else to go."
Toran studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "This world is harsh. Only the strong survive. If you wish to stay, you must prove your strength."
Jiho swallowed, understanding the gravity of the elder's words. He wasn't being offered a free pass; he had to earn his place in the village.
"Tomorrow," Toran continued, "you will join the hunters. Prove you are not a burden."
Jiho's heart skipped a beat. The hunters were the backbone of the village, providing food and protection. But Jiho had no experience in hunting, and his malnourished body was far from the prime physical condition needed to keep up with the seasoned villagers. However, he had no choice. If he refused, he would be cast out, left to fend for himself in a world he barely understood.
"I understand," Jiho said, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.
Toran nodded, satisfied with Jiho's response. "Rest today. Tomorrow, we see what you are made of."
Jiho left the hut, his mind buzzing with anxiety and determination. As a historian, he had always admired the resilience and resourcefulness of ancient peoples. Now, he was about to be tested in ways he had never imagined. The system remained silent, offering no guidance or help, and Jiho couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration. It had brought him to this world, but now it seemed content to watch him struggle.
As he walked through the village, Jiho noticed the wary glances from the villagers. He was still an outsider, and their trust was far from won. But he also noticed something else—curiosity. The villagers were watching him closely, as if trying to figure out where he fit into their world.
Mira approached him, her expression unreadable. She gestured for him to follow her, and Jiho complied, grateful for any help she might offer. She led him to a small clearing at the edge of the village, where a few villagers were practicing with their weapons—stone-tipped spears and simple bows made of wood.
Mira handed Jiho a spear, her gaze challenging. "Show," she said, motioning for him to demonstrate his skills.
Jiho's stomach twisted. He had never wielded a spear before, but he wasn't completely ignorant. His academic studies had given him a theoretical understanding of ancient weaponry, and he had even handled replicas during museum tours and research trips. But theory was a far cry from practice.
He gripped the spear, feeling its weight in his hands. It was heavier and more unbalanced than he expected. He positioned himself as best as he could remember from his research, adjusting his stance and trying to recall the basic principles of spear use. He aimed at the crude wooden target set up a few meters away.
His first throw was clumsy, the spear wobbling through the air before landing short of the target. The villagers watching muttered among themselves, their skepticism evident.
Jiho frowned, analyzing his mistake. He had been too tense, his grip too tight, his stance too rigid. He needed to relax, to let the spear become an extension of his body rather than something he was merely holding. With that in mind, he adjusted his stance again, focused on the target, and threw the spear with more fluidity.
The spear flew farther this time, striking the target with a dull thud, though not exactly where he aimed. It wasn't a perfect throw, but it was progress. Jiho could see a flicker of surprise in Mira's eyes, though she quickly masked it.
He spent the rest of the day practicing under Mira's watchful eye. Each throw was slightly better than the last, and by the time the sun began to set, Jiho was hitting the target more consistently. His muscles ached from the unaccustomed exertion, and his hands were blistered from gripping the rough wood, but he was determined to keep improving.
Mira nodded in approval as the day ended, though her expression remained stern. "Better," she said simply, before walking away.
Jiho collapsed onto the ground, exhausted but satisfied. His body was worn out, but his mind was alight with the thrill of learning something new, of applying his knowledge in a way he never thought he would. He still had a long way to go, but he had taken his first steps toward proving himself.
As he lay there, staring up at the darkening sky, the system's voice chimed in his mind.
[Skill Acquired: Basic Spear Proficiency]
Jiho smiled faintly. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Tomorrow would be the true test, and he would need every advantage he could get.
The night crept in, and Jiho finally allowed himself a moment of rest. Tomorrow, he would hunt with the villagers. Tomorrow, he would face the dangers of this new world head-on.
And tomorrow, he would see if all his years of studying the past could help him survive in a time long forgotten by history.