Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: From Primitive Era Chieftain to Space Age Emperor
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Now, at last, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon.
The shadows of the huts stretched low, shrouded in mist.
From the very first battle, it felt like the heavens themselves were on our side.
I'd drilled the concept of formations into them beforehand through repeated, rote lessons(?).
Team 1 started from the windbreak shelter in a circular formation on the left, while Team 2 stretched out long to the cooking area on the right.
The hut entrances were blocked very crudely.
I sliced the lower knot with the tip of my knife and nudged it open slightly with my instep.
The first hut.
Inside, people were tangled together in what could pass for a primitive family.
I quickly dealt with the sturdy men.
Slash!
Pffft!
"Guhk!"
"Kyaaak!"
And that was the beginning.
Screams began echoing from here and there.
I drove my obsidian knife into the heart of a man scrambling to his feet.
Hot blood sprayed everywhere.
The women shrieked, grabbing their children and fleeing to the corner of the hut.
I moved straight to the next hut.
One of our tribe's young warriors was struggling against a fairly burly enemy.
"Blue Ear! Get out of the way!"
The moment Blue Ear stepped aside, I hurled my stone axe, smashing it straight into the enemy's skull.
I uppercut the jaw of the guy whose body shuddered violently for an instant, knocking him out cold.
Men were better off killed, but if they surrendered and could be integrated into the tribe, they became immediate manpower.
Unless the population was overflowing, it was best to subdue them, ask their intentions, and then decide whether to kill or enslave.
Of course, once they woke from unconsciousness, they might grab a weapon and charge, so I smashed one leg hard with a club to make sure they couldn't walk.
Our tribe spread out in a circle, swallowing up the huts one by one.
In the process, we killed most of them, but we tried to spare any usable labor whenever possible.
If infection set in or internal bleeding occurred, there was nothing to be done.
The plan had succeeded, and I thought we'd win the war without much trouble.
But trouble hit at the tenth hut.
The moment I entered, something flew at me, piercing straight through my gut.
"Gahk!"
I could vividly feel something tearing into my insides.
A searing pain like being branded with fire.
The eyes of the bastard who'd thrown the spear widened in terror.
He staggered back, trying to flee.
I grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground with all my weight.
Splat!
Brains splattered everywhere.
I yanked out the spear for hemostasis and wrapped my belly, but my hands kept slipping.
Numbness was gradually setting in.
Hemorrhagic shock was knocking at the door.
Even if a miracle stopped the bleeding from killing me, wouldn't infection finish the job?
Fear surged through me in an instant.
'Am I dying like this!?'
I understood this was a game world to some extent.
But I couldn't be sure if the cheats and customizations I'd applied before entering had worked perfectly.
Pain and helplessness.
"Whirlwind!"
Black Stone came running from behind.
Black Stone, the tribe's elder, was too frail for direct combat, but his vast experience made him perfect for emergency treatment.
He pulled leaves from a basket, chewed them into a pulp, and slapped them onto the wound.
Then he poured some mysterious liquid into my mouth.
"Ugh."
My mouth went numb.
Strangely, the pain eased a bit.
Coca leaves or something—whatever it was, it seemed like a plant used for pain relief.
It had hemostatic effects too.
Black Stone moved with incredible speed.
Screw hygiene; he stopped the bleeding and used thin woven wood fibers like gauze to cover the wound.
Then he tied it with cord and wrapped it again with leaves, securing everything.
My vision spun, but with Black Stone's support, I made it outside.
The cleanup was wrapping up.
Most of the enemy tribe's warriors who'd been caught off guard were dead, with a few captured.
We hadn't touched the women or children, so their numbers were decent.
Of course, we had losses too.
Two dead, three injured—that was heavy for an ambush.
"Black Stone."
"Speak."
"I won't die. Manage the tribe while I sleep."
"Understood."
I had no strength left to talk.
I scanned the surroundings once more and closed my eyes.
*
It felt like a very deep dream.
I might have wished it was just a dream.
But.
"Mm."
When I opened my eyes, it was still the cave.
I'd gotten used to the smell; it didn't feel as foul as when I first arrived.
The gut wound was bandaged just as it had been treated initially.
For an era with zero hygiene, this was probably the best they could do.
Only then did a dull ache spread from my abdomen.
"I'm alive."
Without immortality, I'd be long dead.
The spear had gone deep, and in an age without antibiotics, infection would have killed me by now—or I'd be on the brink.
"Whirlwind! You're awake!"
Black Stone rushed over first.
The tribesfolk followed in a stream.
The abdominal pain gradually subsided, and movement wasn't too uncomfortable anymore.
This meant all the abilities I'd customized before entering this world had taken effect.
A cheer erupted as I stood.
"The undying Whirlwind!"
Surviving such a wound must have seemed mystical to these primitives.
Awe shone in their eyes.
This boded well for future deification.
I drank water and recovered my strength with fruit and meat.
It tasted slightly off, so we needed to smoke or dry the meat soon.
As I exited the cave, the day was underway.
The captives from the Yellow Tribe were already moving.
Women fetched water, and two young men shaped stones into blades of uniform thickness.
Salt crystals scraped from deep in the cave formed a small pile.
'This area's not bad for a settlement.'
Two tribes nearby within 30 minutes' walk meant abundant game and fruit.
Even with unimproved grains like wheat or rice, there was no reason not to settle if we could farm.
I'd scout in detail first before deciding.
The yellow-haired primitives moved with disciplined efficiency—essentially slaves.
But in this era, slavery was just the start; it usually ended with absorption.
Primitives dimly understood that it prevented genetic diseases and built sturdy societies.
Watching them craft primitive tools, I reaffirmed my resolve.
'In future wars, even just bows would give us an absurd advantage.'
It was only a matter of time; we'd make them eventually.
For a settlement, we'd scout the area, build houses in optimal spots, erect palisades to protect from beasts and enemies.
Still in the gathering age, the moment we settled, tech and culture would advance, population would explode, and power would grow.
We needed weapon advancement for true civilization, so we'd start right away.
But first, we needed at least one person who grasped the need and principle of bows.
"Black Stone!"
"What is it?"
I called Black Stone, who handled elder duties.
Too old to run himself, he controlled the tribesfolk and relayed my orders like a secretary.
I explained bows to Black Stone.
"A flying spear?"
"You throw a spear once and it's gone, but a bow lets you shoot multiple times."
"Is that possible?"
"It is."
We couldn't make bronze or iron arrowheads yet, but obsidian shards could serve as weights.
Worst case, grind stones for tips—labor-intensive, but doable.
Obsidian turned up often enough; find a vein, and we could produce arrowheads for the tribe.
Black Stone listened intently, then snorted.
"Hunt easily, kill enemies easily!"
"Exactly."
Primitives weren't dumb.
I'd explained the principle and necessity, and he instantly grasped uses for attack and defense.
"How do we make it?"
"Need wood, fibers, pine resin, feathers."
"Explain in detail."
Bamboo was best for primitive bows, but none around.
Elm, ash, and hazel were common instead.
Elm had low twist and good elasticity.
Hazel's straight grain was perfect for arrows.
Feathers could be gathered somehow.
Raptor feathers ideal, but substitutes would do.
Luckily, we had plenty of labor.
I selected an elm trunk about as thick as between wrist and elbow.
The back (to become the bow's outer face) must keep one full growth ring intact.
That prevents it splitting when drawn and released.
Don't touch the back; shape only the belly side.
'Should work, right?'
Knowledge obscure unless you're a gaming vet.
I was such a shut-in that I even remembered bow-making.
Whether it'd actually work, we'd see once done.
Shaped the bowstave, thinning the ends and thickening the center.
Then tillering.
Tied a temporary string and drew it bit by bit.
Next, critical step: heat to evaporate moisture and temper the bow solid.
Smells shift from musty wood to roasted nuts—that's the sign.
This completed a bow sturdy beyond primitive standards.
Now the string.
I had them strip nettles and elm inner bark (phloem).
Tear the toughest inner flesh thin, twist into fiber bundles on the palm.
S-twist them, then counter-twist two strands together to lock tension—like Joseon-era rope.
Coat knots thinly with resin to prevent slip.
Melted resin by fire, mixed with charcoal dust and animal fat.
Twang!
Tensioned and drew the string.
'Whoa... it actually works?'
Primitive-era exclusive, overtech to turn the whole tribe into Yeopo.