The sunset cast its glow over the vast sea of trees, the clouds tinged with red, rolling like waves. The sky was clear as a tranquil lake, with a wisp of cooking smoke drifting into the air.
Beneath that smoke lay a simple settlement built from branches and tall grass. Dozens of tribespeople wearing only animal-skin skirts had gathered around a central fire pit. They busied themselves building the fire and cooking, laughing and chatting all the while. The scent of corn, wild greens, and some unknown animal meat soon wafted through the air.
Standing in the depths of the forest was twelve-year-old Xiulote, looking somewhat perplexedly at the distant settlement.
He had a delicate face with black hair, black eyes, and yellowish skin, his youthful features still clean and boyish. On his head he wore a conical pointed hat, and draped around him was a dark green cape large enough to cover his entire body. A brown loincloth hung around his middle, the cloth extending just enough to cover him, and on his feet were soft deerskin shoes.
In his right hand, he held an obsidian dagger about a foot long; on his left arm, a small shield was strapped. Though small, the shield was large enough to protect his slight frame. Most eye-catching of all was a specially crafted obsidian necklace that dangled from his neck down to his chest—a symbol of some important status.
Xiulote glanced ahead. Through the shadows of the trees, he could just make out a group of fierce, muscular warriors.
They wore green leather armor that accentuated their powerful builds, with the edges of their sleeves and pant legs dyed red. They too wore loincloths and pointed leather hats. Most of them were barefoot, a length of rope tied at the waist. In their left hands, they carried half-meter wooden shields covered with hide, decorated with intimidating designs. In their right hands, they each held a hardwood club over a meter long—its sharp obsidian inserts had been removed for the moment.
Right now, the warriors were crouched in silence, like wild beasts lurking in the jungle, their eyes aglow with a dangerous excitement.
Sensing Xiulote's gaze, two of the warriors stood and moved toward him, soundless in their approach. The one in front appeared to be in his mid-thirties or early forties, powerfully built. His face was painted in red and green stripes, and he wore a fierce jaguar-shaped helmet. Bright feathers trailed from the back of that helmet, draping over a yellow, striped leather breastplate—he looked every bit like a beast walking upright.
He was the empire's elite, the leader of this squad of twenty—a Jaguar Noble Warrior.
The Jaguar Warrior approached Xiulote and spoke:
"Xiulote, we're about to attack. This is your first time going into battle, so you don't have to charge with us. Stay at the perimeter. If you spot any of the savages trying to escape, alert Tetlsi. If you find an opponent you can handle, feel free to engage—just use your shield and dagger properly."
"Remember, you don't need to take prisoners. Don't hold back!"
Finished speaking, he turned to the young warrior beside him and instructed,
"Tetlsi, keep a close eye on Xiulote; don't let him go up against someone too strong. If he can handle them, then don't interfere. It's his first time—let him get a taste of blood. I'll bring you two captives myself."
At last, the Jaguar Warrior gave Xiulote a nod. A grin spread across his face, revealing teeth that gleamed coldly. Then, without a sound, he melted back into the shadows.
Tetlsi looked to be around twenty, crouching beside Xiulote with a hint of resignation on his face. "I'll stick close to you, Xiulote. In a bit, you can look for a lone savage or maybe an old one."
"Tetlsi, why do we have to attack these tribespeople? They haven't harmed us," Xiulote asked in confusion, his eyes reflecting uncertainty. Memories of a "previous life" still lingered in his mind, growing hazy but refusing to vanish, stubbornly shaping his sense of right and wrong in this brutal, untamed jungle era.
"Why?" Tetlsi scratched his head. "Because the new Tlatoani has just ascended, and we need more offerings for the coronation ceremony."
"Then why must so many lives be used up in a sacrificial ritual?"
"Because that's what the gods desire."
Just then, an eagle's piercing cry resounded overhead, followed by several dozen figures bursting from the dense forest.
Letting out terrifying howls, the warriors closed in on the settlement from all sides. A "jaguar" led the way, its patterned pelt gleaming as it leapt forward, wielding a heavy obsidian club that flickered like lightning.
With an effortless strike, he knocked a young tribesman unconscious on the ground. Then, reversing his grip, he struck another man's waist, sending that fellow tumbling and writhing in pain. The other warriors achieved similar results. Although the tribespeople outnumbered them four- or five-to-one, the battle was entirely one-sided.
The tribes' fighTetlsi raised their short spears in desperation, but the warriors nimbly avoided them; the spears slid across the warriors' leather armor, leaving only shallow scratches. In return, a single blow of the hardwood clubs was enough to fell each opponent.
A few of the tribal hunTetlsi fought back with makeshift bows, shooting short, crude arrows that lodged in the warriors' leather armor. That was their last effective stand. The hunTetlsi were quickly singled out and overpowered by warriors drawn to the threat of bowfire.
From there, the fight became little more than a chase: tribespeople scattered in every direction, while the warriors either pursued or pulled out ropes to tie up the captives they deemed suitable. One warrior set about kicking the fire from the central pit onto the thatched huts, and soon flames and cries filled the dusky sky.
"Let's go too," Tetlsi urged from behind him. Xiulote stood frozen, staring at the fire spreading through the settlement. Figures darted before him, and the mingled sounds of sobbing and laughter seemed both near and far. Suddenly, a small, thin silhouette came hurtling out from the front, panting heavily, running straight at Xiulote.
"Look out!" came an urgent shout from behind. The person up ahead also spotted Xiulote. With no time to deviate, the tribesman thrust his sharpened wooden spear right at the smaller enemy in his path.
Xiulote's vision blurred. His left hand rose instinctively with the shield, deflecting the spear's sharp tip along the thick hide surface. After two years of rigorous training, the movement flowed seamlessly through his muscles. He stepped forward, following it with his right hand—and drove the dagger deeply into something soft. Almost immediately, warm, wet fluid spread across his small palm.
The figure in front of him halted at once, the spear striking his shield a second time but losing power with each strike. Then it dropped away, the strength behind it fading quickly.
Only then did Xiulote see the person he had just stabbed—a filthy, emaciated-looking youth. Clearly malnourished, probably around fifteen or sixteen, with a pair of hate-filled eyes fixed on Xiulote.
Soon, that young man's pupils dilated, and his body went limp, sliding off the dagger and collapsing at Xiulote's feet. Even in death, his lifeless eyes remained trained on Xiulote.
Xiulote felt as if he'd been struck. He staggered back a step, the dagger slipping from his right hand to the ground, and his knees nearly buckled. Just then, a large pair of hands extended from behind, catching him securely by the shoulders.
"Well done," Tetlsi remarked. "You handled the shield block and thrust perfectly—looks like the captain and squad leader trained you well."
"I… I didn't mean to," Xiulote murmured. This was his first time taking a life, in this world or any other.
"What?"
"Why does it have to be like this?"
"What do you mean, 'why'? Fighting is the greatest glory, the greatest thrill. And of course, so is sacrifice. Once we've captured enough offerings, we can wait for this year's coronation ceremony. I'm really looking forward to it!" Tetlsi spoke with a simple-hearted grin, his eyes sparkling with delight.
"It's not right… it's not right…"
"Xiulote, what are you talking about? Speak up, I can't hear you," Tetlsi said, scratching his head.
"Ah well, it's normal to feel a little faint your first time. I was like that too. Then again, you're younger than I was. Oh—looks like the squad leader's finished over there. Let's hurry over." Tetlsi picked up the dagger and pushed it back into Xiulote's belt, half-dragging the boy toward the "jaguar."
Behind them lay the corpse of that young tribesman, slumped sideways on the grass, his unseeing eyes gazing skyward. The glow of dusk slowly dimmed, and darkness claimed him amid the savage wilderness of the American continent's forests.