Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: From Primitive Era Chieftain to Space Era Emperor
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Thankfully, the war between the two tribes was unfolding right nearby.
I climbed a hill with Eagle's Eye and watched what they were doing.
Two groups with red hair were hurling stones at each other.
Those hit by the stones had their heads split open or bruises all over their bodies as they rolled on the ground.
Screams poured out.
This didn't feel like something happening to strangers.
Our own tribe had fought just like that only last year.
As the stone-throwing died down, they charged at each other, swinging stone axes and short spears.
Of course, there were no formations or anything like that.
It was a dogfight, and that was the standard for this era.
Blood sprayed once, curses flew everywhere.
And then they pulled back for a moment.
Their skills were so evenly matched that it didn't seem like it would end easily.
Eagle's Eye clicked his tongue as he watched them.
"Truly crude. That can't even be called a war."
"All the tribes around here probably fight like that."
"Should we absorb them all?"
"That's what'll happen in the end."
Each side had about forty men, all with the same red hair, which made me think this might be a civil war.
I did some calculations.
This was an era with wildly imbalanced gender ratios.
Men participated in all major and minor tribal affairs from the moment they came of age, mainly handling hunting and war.
So, deaths from old age were rare enough to count on one hand.
Even if we considered every able-bodied man a warrior, to field forty warriors, a tribe would need at least two hundred members.
Absorbing them would mean swelling the Whirlwind Tribe's numbers to a thousand—a city-scale growth.
I envisioned a strategy.
Watching them fight, it seemed like we could just swoop in as the fisherman's gain—or rather, crush them outright.
The round shields were being steadily produced and improved; we had twenty now.
Couldn't we advance in a turtle-shell formation and bludgeon them into submission with clubs or blunt spears?
"Arm up and hit them."
"How exactly?"
"Overwhelm them with sheer force. We're planning to expand the farmland and pastures anyway. They'll make fine labor."
The thought of properly building a city made my heart race.
Red Mane, chieftain of the Big Rock Tribe, glared at his enemies with savage eyes.
'Bad guys.'
Without a word for ingratitude, that's all he could repeat in his mind.
His hair was as red and long-flowing as his name suggested.
Long ago, the Big Rock Tribe under his lead had turned blades on their own blood kin in a civil war that split them apart.
Truth be told, "civil war" wasn't quite right; it was more like "challengers gunning for the chieftain's seat."
His younger brother, who had eyed his position, lost the fight and chose to break away from the tribe.
He hadn't finished him off back then out of fear that their evenly matched forces might doom the whole tribe.
He thought they'd never cross paths again after turning their backs.
But time passed, and the "Small Rock Tribe" showed up leading forty warriors.
Fighting inside the tribe would cause heavy losses again, so Red Mane led his warriors out to intercept them.
The battle dragged on.
After a dozen or so were wounded or killed, they pulled back to catch their breath.
They skirmished for a good while longer.
Then something descended from the hill ridge.
At first, he thought it was shadows from the forest moving.
Or maybe his eyes dazzled by the sun, causing an illusion.
But it wasn't a shadow—it was a wall.
The wall was walking.
"What the hell is that?"
"The wall's moving!"
Both the Big Rock Tribe and Small Rock Tribe were equally stunned.
Did this make any sense?
It only looked that way because they moved in such perfect unison, but primitive folk couldn't figure that out.
They just panicked, not daring to charge recklessly as the wall drew closer.
Then they realized.
Those were people.
Armored in gear that didn't exist in this world, approaching with something poking out from gaps in the wall.
Spears.
Though with blunt tips, closer to clubs really.
Crunch!
"Gaaah!"
Sticks shot out from the wall, battering them indiscriminately.
Some rolled clutching smashed skulls; others had bones broken.
"Rough Head! We have to block them together!"
Red Mane looked at his hated younger brother.
Rough Head nodded, flustered too.
They needed a temporary alliance.
But...
How do you even attack that?
They slammed with huge shields, or pried open gaps to drag people in for a beating—tactics that left no openings.
Attacks didn't land.
Every weapon they had bounced off.
The red-haired tribesmen felt utterly helpless against them.
Even the chieftains were at a loss, and soon they were surrounded, beaten like prey.
Someone muttered in a daze.
"Spirits..."
"Spirits?"
"Yeah! Those are the spirits' warriors!"
Suddenly, realization struck like lightning.
The two chieftains, facing foes beyond human limits, thought their patron spirits—gods—had descended from the heavens.
Their knees buckled involuntarily.
They prostrated before the living gods.
The battle ended anticlimactically.
Our opponents weren't even in the same league.
The tactics our tribe used now were thousands of years ahead; no exaggeration.
They say there's no beating a group ambush, but unless swarmed by overwhelming numbers, we couldn't lose to multiples of their size.
With such superior gear and tactics, subduing primitive tribes like this was just a matter of clubbing them down.
As Whirlwind Tribe warriors beat on the enemy, a tearing voice rang out from somewhere.
"Spirits!"
"Spirits' warriors!"
Then they suddenly dropped to their knees, bowing their heads.
I paused, pondering the word's meaning.
Spirits, huh.
Not shamanism exactly—more like early religion?
The concept wasn't fully formed yet.
A term to explain fear.
A catch-all for beings causing incomprehensible phenomena.
Or referring to souls of the dead, ancestors, and such.
I parted the shield wall and advanced toward them.
Seeing me in hide armor, their eyes went wide.
"B-big cat's pelt!"
"A spirit has appeared!"
"O spirit...!"
Their knees buckled again.
Some raised hands overhead; others smashed foreheads into the dirt madly.
In that moment, all dropped weapons in awe.
From behind the round shields, a few of our warriors glanced at each other and shrugged.
"Our chieftain's Whirlwind, though?"
"Whirlwind?"
The situation twisted weirdly, but submission was submission.
Who else in the world submits this fervently?
Black Stone stepped forward to introduce me.
"Our chieftain doesn't die even from spear thrusts and slew a great tiger and fur tiger in one go! The great Whirlwind!"
"S-spirit!"
"..."
Best to play along, right?
Our tribe had witnessed my feats and coined "great."
I saw it as the first step toward deification.
But these redheads had a more concrete concept.
Once they joined?
Deification would accelerate, and the Whirlwind Tribe would learn what this "god" truly meant.
By sunset, the redheads filed in one after another.
The warriors were loosely bound separately, but they showed no will to resist.
Especially before me—they knelt and trembled, behavior the Whirlwind Tribe couldn't fathom.
"This is where spirits dwell."
"Yeah. That's why it's so beautiful."
They figured this prosperity came from gods ruling directly.
I'd intended that, but hearing it so casually made my face heat up a bit.
Well, time to get used to it.
With how hard it was for me to pass on genes, deification was the only way to prevent power leaks for stable rule.
It'd make governing easier too.
I heard their story.
As expected, a civil war.
"So you fought to become chieftain."
"Yes."
"Now that I'm here, no need to fight over that position, right?"
"We'll follow forever in the tribe ruled by the great spirit!"
"Then reconcile."
"..."
"You came from the same mother's womb. You should be closer than anyone, yet vain ambition brought tragedy. No need now—restore your old bond."
"But..."
"Won't be easy. Do it anyway."
The brothers stood awkwardly.
Ten years since the split.
Everyone knew reconciliation now wasn't simple.
But if two blood-related tribes didn't mend, it'd breed endless issues.
"Can't refuse the spirits' call for peace."
"Sorry."
"Ugh!"
Whether primitive mindset or seeing me as godlike, they reconciled dramatically(?).
And our tribe more than doubled in size.