"I, Raka, son of Chief Maluk of the Zorani tribe. In the presence of the spirits of the ancestors, challenge anyone who wants the seat of the chief to a sacred duel!"
SILENCE
Silence hung heavy in the air as everyone was too shocked and processing what he had said, with the only change being the skulls' shine dimming.
THUMP THUMP THUMP
Marana's heart thumped against her chest, understanding what her son just did.
Color faded from her face while she felt as if her body were chained to a weight, keeping her from moving.
Her brown eyes flickered with various emotions of anger, sadness, and grief.
Rhanar, the man who shadowed Raka like a tower, stood rooted to his place like a pole. His mouth hung agape at the audacity of the brat in front of him.
"Hahahaha!"
Rahanar suddenly burst out laughing, his menacing figure trembling with amusement.
The crowd, too, snapped out of its reverie at Rhanar's mocking laughter and joined him.
"Hah! Look at him! I thought the chief's son was going to be intelligent!" one person in the crowd scoffed at Raka.
"Hmph! At least with his position as an elder, he could have had a respectable position!" snorted another.
"Raka!" Marana called out as she stepped toward her son, but halted when a firm hand stopped her place.
Marana looked toward the one who stopped her, and she widened her eyes in surprise. "Elder!"
The old woman looked at Maran with pity in her eyes, her old wrinkles coming together as she glanced at Marana's son.
"It's too late; the ancestors have agreed to the sacred duel," the light wielder muttered, pulling her hand from Marana's shoulder; she added, "I thought the tribe would have another light wielder; too bad that man who possessed it doesn't have a brain in his head!"
She liked the boy; after all, he too was a light welder just like her. 'Tch, I thought I could teach the boy about the element; too bad he doesn't want to live!'
Marana broke down then and there; tears flowed down her cheeks while her chest heaved as she sobbed for her son.
Raka, the man in the eye of the storm, however, was not going to back down. He stepped back, getting out of Rhanar's visage; looking over to the crowd, he said, "Anyone who wants my seat can challenge me in a week, right in front of our ancestors!"
Rhanar's laughter died down when he heard the boy's arrogance; he sneered at him and was about to rebuke him, but Raka didn't stay.
He walked over to his sobbing mother and grabbed her hand.
Looking over to his stepmothers, he muttered, "follow me," his expression firm and stern as he looked at his mother's sister wives.
Rhanar, being ignored by Raka, was now fuming with rage; he was about to step out to block his path but stopped when he heard the old woman.
"As the boy said, the duel will take place in a week right in front of the ancestral chamber; any person who wishes to participate will have to come to the ancestral chamber to get the blessings of the ancestor before the duel day!"
Staring straight at Rhanar, she continued, "No fights shall take place until then; any fight against the participants will result in banishment from the tribe!"
The old woman looked at the departing Raka, who was walking toward the chief's hut along with his mothers.
'This is all that I can do, boy!' Her eyes glinted as he departed, 'I hope you can survive!'
...…
Raka and his mothers left the ancestral chamber and were walking toward their hut.
The tribesmen didn't dare to follow them after the elder's warning.
Marana was still sobbing as Raka dragged her to their hut.
Zina, the woman with the red hair, looked at her stepson with a complicated gaze, "Raka.." She called out, hoping for an explanation.
Raka stopped in his tracks and turned toward his stepmothers; his golden eyes shone with reassurance as he said, "Not here; I will explain everything after we reach home."
With that, he turned around and resumed walking, dragging his mother along.
The three women looked at each other, concern and worry etched on their faces.
Zina bit her lip as she turned toward Raka. "Let's go."
...…
Stepping inside the hut, Raka let go of his mother and turned toward her; his heart ached as he watched her tears stream down.
"Mother…" he mumbled as he hugged her, his arms coiling around her tightly.
SOB
Marana broke down further in her son's embrace; her tears flowed like rivers while she punched him in the chest, losing her strength with every hit.
His three stepmothers entered the hut but stayed silent for a while, giving Marana a chance to ask her son—just what had gotten into him.
Raka gently rubbed his mother's back, waiting for her to pull herself together so that he could explain things to them.
'Haah, I never thought she would react this badly!' Raka mumbled to himself, but there was one thing he didn't understand, 'just why does everyone think light is just for healing?!'
Raka questioned himself, falling into a daze while continuing to rub his mother's back.
Marana, after a few minutes, finally stopped crying; her heart still ached at the thought of the upcoming duel, but she stopped herself from crying.
She looked up to see her son gazing into the air; his golden eyes flickered occasionally.
Anger rose from the depths of her heart as she recalled her son's challenge. He let go of him, causing him to come out of his daze.
Raka looked at his mother, who was frowning with her eyes glaring at him; he knew that he owed her some explanations. "Mother, lis—"
SLAP
But before he could even explain himself, Marana slapped her son on the cheek, her palm leaving a mark on his face.
The three women behind Marana widened their eyes in surprise; never in their lives had they seen Marana hit her son; she just loved him too much.
Awkward silence descended upon the room as Raka touched his cheeks; his eyes widened as he couldn't believe that his mother had just hit him.
His golden eyes faltered as he looked at her, who was still glaring at him.
"Why did you do it?"