"What is this?" Muria stared with frustration at a page of the tree bark book in front of him. The abstract drawing seemed to depict some kind of fierce creature, but Muria couldn't make sense of it.
This was one of the reasons he kept coming back to the Great Elder's collection for over a year now, despite the difficulty. Many of the books were incomprehensible, and Muria often had no clue what the authors were trying to convey.
Given the level of the Ikkon civilization, it was clear they hadn't yet developed a proper writing system. Muria found only some rudimentary, pictographic symbols on these pages.
Reading these tree-bark books felt more like looking at a series of jumbled illustrations. No, it was worse than that. At least in a picture book, the meaning was usually clear. But here, most of the illustrations were disjointed, with little continuity or coherence.
In truth, it wasn't so much reading as it was guessing. That's when having an elder nearby became crucial.
Because Muria hadn't yet explored the tribe much due to his young age, he didn't have enough understanding of the world to interpret these childlike drawings. But fortunately, he had a walking encyclopedia beside him.
"Great Elder, do you know what this is?" Unable to decipher the chaotic image, Muria brought the tree-bark book over to the Great Elder, seeking guidance.
"Ull, another part you don't understand?" The Great Elder chuckled as he set aside the medicine jar he was working on and took the book from Muria. "Show me where you're confused."
"Here, what is this?" Muria, still small and childlike in this body, pointed to the abstract image on the page.
"Hmm..." The Great Elder looked closely at the blurry image, furrowing his brow in thought as he drew out a long "hmm."
"This is a Misha!" the Great Elder finally declared confidently, turning to Muria with a sure expression.
"Is that so?" Muria looked at the elder skeptically. This wasn't the first time he had asked for help, and every time the elder could provide an answer.
The problem was that sometimes Muria felt like the elder was just making things up to maintain his authority.
Muria's suspicion wasn't unfounded. Once, when he showed a drawing that vaguely resembled a bird, the elder had claimed it was a Horned Armored Beast—a land creature that could knock down trees with ease!
At that point, Muria realized the elder hadn't really recognized the image either. It was simply too abstract, perhaps clear when first drawn, but time had distorted the bark and faded the pigments, leaving behind a barely discernible mess.
So, in all likelihood, the elder had given Muria the description of a different beast to save face. However, the elder's descriptions were often detailed, based on creatures he had actually seen.
Thus, Muria was more than happy to continue asking the Great Elder questions. When the written records were too obscure to interpret, the elder's extensive knowledge could still be tapped.
"Little Ull, you don't believe me, do you?" The Great Elder's expression turned serious upon hearing Muria's doubt. "This is a Misha! I've seen one with my own eyes! Although the drawing is unclear, the colors and patterns described here are definitely those of a Misha!"
"Alright," Muria nodded, pretending to agree as he pressed for more information. "Grand Elder, what kind of creature is a Misha? How big is it? How strong?"
"The Misha is the uncrowned king of the skies. Wherever it flies, it reigns supreme. As for its size? It can easily swallow a Blue Creek Beast whole! When its wings spread, our entire tribe would be shrouded in darkness!"
"It can swallow a Blue Creek Beast?" Muria's eyes brightened slightly. He knew what a Blue Creek Beast was; it was the standard mount for every Ikkon. Only those who had ridden one were considered fully adult and eligible to hunt.
"Indeed!" The elder continued describing the Misha, painting the picture of a four-legged, two-winged dragon-like creature in Muria's mind.
"If you ever encounter a Misha when flying after you come of age, do not provoke it. Don't even stop to look. Land immediately and flee!"
After a brief introduction to the Misha, the elder ended the conversation with a warning, clearly full of awe for the creature.
"If I ever meet a Misha after I'm grown, I definitely won't run away. If it dares attack me, I'll chop off its head!" Muria, of course, didn't take the elder's warning seriously. A dragon-like creature from this world? The idea that he should flee from it was laughable.
"Hahaha!" The elder burst into laughter again, clearly dismissing Muria's words as the naive boastings of a child.
"Little Ull, if you ever have the strength to slay a Misha, I suggest you don't chop off its head. Instead, ride it and make it your companion!"
"Why?"
"If you can tame a Misha and make it your mount, you will become the ruler of Ayale Forest. Every Ikkon tribe in this forest will obey your command!"
"Really?" Muria looked up, his eyes shining. He glimpsed a sliver of hope for transforming this world's stagnant civilization.
"Of course! It's a rule among all the tribes of Ayale Forest: the Ikkon who can conquer a Misha is the King of Ayale!"
"Alright, then! When I come of age, I will tame a Misha and make it my mount!" Muria declared, revealing his first goal since arriving in this world, completely unconcerned about the elder's amusement.
"Hahaha! Ambitious!" The elder laughed heartily again, clearly treating Muria's words as nothing more than a child's grand dreams.
"Tch!" Muria clicked his tongue and turned away, unwilling to argue further. He figured he'd let his actions speak for themselves when he eventually appeared before the elder on the back of a Misha. He was confident that by then, the elder wouldn't be laughing anymore.
As the elder continued to laugh heartily, Muria glanced up at the sky, waved, and prepared to head home.
"Ull!" Just as he stepped out of the treehouse, the elder called his name.
"Hmm?" Muria turned back.
"I wasn't mocking you. I'm simply happy. I truly look forward to seeing our Tunan tribe produce a king who can conquer a Misha."
"You won't have to wait long. For me, it's only a matter of time," Muria replied solemnly, then turned and walked away without waiting for the elder's response.
"Hmm? There's something important I forgot to ask." As he walked along a narrow vine bridge, Muria suddenly recalled a crucial question. The elder had mentioned many powerful creatures, including the Misha, and had often issued warnings about them.
There was no doubt that these creatures were incredibly dangerous. The descriptions alone made it clear they could easily kill multiple fully grown Ikkon.
Given these descriptions, the wilderness should be extremely perilous for the Ikkon. Yet, every hunter Muria had seen return from the wild did so with ease, as if they had simply been out picking fruit. This made no sense.
"If a Misha can swallow a Blue Creek Beast whole, then a single one could devastate my tribe if it attacked. It could even wipe us out!" Muria frowned as he continued walking across the vine bridges, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that a misstep could send him plummeting tens or even hundreds of meters to the ground below.
Every Ikkon was born with the ability to move easily through the trees. After all, their entire race lived in treehouses.
"But the elder only holds the Misha in reverence, not fear, which means the Misha won't attack our tribe. But why? No, it's not just the Misha. None of the dangerous creatures he's described have ever attacked. I've never seen a single one. That means there must be something protecting my tribe!"
Muria stopped in the middle of a vine bridge, glancing around. As the sun set, the trees around him—including the vine bridge beneath his feet—began to glow softly, creating a stunning and dreamlike scene.
Muria admired the enchanting beauty as he continued on his way, eventually returning to his family's treehouse, which was also glowing, driving away the darkness.
"Papa, Mama!" Muria called out as he entered the treehouse, greeting his parents without hesitation.
He didn't feel conflicted about it. He fully understood the pain his mother had endured to give birth to him, and the food that sustained him every day was gathered by his father. The wilderness seemed dangerous, even for the Ikkon.
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