The Outsider's Gambit
Nazan and Muel, standing on the platform, couldn't hide their bewilderment. Their eyes trembled unnaturally as they gazed at Hien, standing before Adel.
'I knew he was bold, but this is too much.'
'...He's crossed the line. We might have to abandon recruiting him as a subordinate. One wrong move, and his head could roll right here.'
In stark contrast to the two pale-faced figures, Hien sat upon his jade throne, eyeing Adel with keen interest.
The tribe's grandest festival, the Day of the Hunt. On the very first day, with all eyes upon it, the atmosphere shifted completely due to one boy's entrance.
'What's that? Those clothes look like something from the central kingdoms.'
'Was there a guy like that in the tribe?'
'Who is he?'
The crowd stared at Adel with puzzled expressions. There was no warmth in their gazes—only the irritation of a festival disruptor.
"You wish to join the festival?" Hien asked.
"Insolent fool!! How dare a central whelp...!!"
"We saved your life, and now you're getting cocky!"
"Do you even know where you are?! Defiling our festival!!"
The tribesfolk around them erupted in shouts directed at Adel. Their reaction was entirely predictable.
"Silence."
Unlike the murmuring crowd, Hien raised a hand to quiet them, then rose from his throne and descended slowly.
"...?!!"
Not just Muel and Nazan, but everyone else watched in surprise.
'I thought he'd draw his sword on the spot...'
'What's going on?'
Even the two who had served him for years couldn't predict this; they watched the scene unfold in silence.
"Only tribe members may participate in the festival. That means you seek to become one of us."
"Yes."
"I picked you up, abandoned in the desert. But that alone does not make you tribe."
"I know."
Hien regarded Adel with intrigued eyes.
"Indeed. The fact that you hold that... means you've resolved to undergo the ritual to join us. Isn't that right?"
In that moment, the two understood why Hien hadn't struck Adel's neck but shown interest instead.
"No way..."
Adel held a small shortbow in his hand.
"This is insane. Did he take that from my tent? That kid..."
Nazan realized his mistake. It was an old bow, long unused, merely hanging on a tent pole.
"That idiot! Muel, we have to stop this. That bow's one I used as a kid. It's neglected—no way it'll even draw."
"Fascinating. You're worried if the bow will fire? More than whether the kid can even join the ritual?"
"...What?"
Nazan said.
"A central brat halted the Ulan tribe's festival. His head could fly any second without surprise."
"Exactly..."
"So you're fretting over whether his bow shoots. You sensed it vaguely too, didn't you? That's why you asked me—about what Hien thinks."
Nazan sighed at her words.
"Look closely. He's holding a bow. Whether it draws, breaks, or's too old—doesn't matter. The fact he holds it doesn't change."
"..."
"You know what it means to take up a bow in the Ulan tribe."
"...He's just a 13-year-old kid."
"Well, you heard him. Thirteen's no age to be barred from becoming a hunter."
"That's..."
"Absurd boldness, but spirit unseen even among desert folk. Unlike those weak central types, the desert favors such grit."
Muel looked at Adel. A boy she'd just seen today, yet an odd anticipation stirred.
"Should you pass the ritual, you may become my son. One of the tribe. Do you understand?" Hien asked, looking down at Adel.
"I do."
"Fail, and you die. That too, you know?"
"Of course."
Adel's unwavering reply drew a faint smile across Hien's stony face.
"You could live quietly here, doing menial tasks."
"I have no desire for that."
Adel recalled words Hien had spoken in his past life, disappointed in him. And as if they landed, Hien's lips twitched.
"The kid's rolled the dice," Nazan sighed, watching them.
"Muel, spirit's fine, but it needs results to match."
He said.
"Catching a desert wolf's impressive, but without basic desert knowledge, he'll never pass. He'll just get buried in the sands."
Muel shook her head at his words.
"Who knows. I told you—he's no kid."
She smirked.
"He's a man."
"Amusing. Halt the festival for now. Prepare the ritual."
"B-but...!"
"Halting the tribe's festival for some rootless central brat?! Absurd!"
As Hien's decision fell, the elders cried out in dismay.
"It is decided."
They were the only ones in the tribe who could raise their voices to him. Yet his single word silenced them.
"Nazan."
"Yes, speak."
"That bow. Yours, isn't it?"
He referred to the shortbow in Adel's hand. Nazan sighed deeply and nodded.
"My oversight."
"Help him gear up. The bow's old."
"...Pardon?"
"If he survives, I'll take him as my son. Let him join the festival. If he dies, toss him as wolf bait."
Hien turned away.
'...Good.'
Adel watched his back, feeling sweat beading on his palms.
'I was tense. Me.'
A man who had hunted even gods in his past life, nervous before a mere human.
'Well, you're the continent's strongest. The world's ironies. If you hadn't fallen that day, Karon might never have unified the continent.'
A pinnacle reached by human might alone. That was what he was.
The White Ghost, Hien.
"What's with that punk?"
"Merka, did you know? The patriarch must've hinted."
"We've waited a year for this festival. Nest graduates obsessed over this day!! And now this nonsense... soul-crushing."
Adel's appearance shocked everyone, but not all reactions were favorable—especially from those eager to compete.
'They look ready to devour me.'
At the group's center, Merka glared with burning eyes.
'Brother, hate me now if you must. But someday you'll thank me. The Day of the Hunt can't be today.'
They wouldn't know. Adel's intervention delaying the festival had saved one life.
* * *
"This is maddening. The desert's full of oddities, but you're the most absurd I've seen in my life."
Back in the tent, Nazan sat Adel in a chair and let out a hollow laugh.
"How the hell did you even snag that?"
"It was just hanging on the pole."
"...I get you're sharp and quick-witted now. But you know that's not what I meant."
Nazan snatched the shortbow from Adel and hung it back on the tent pole.
"Sigh, well, you didn't know what it was anyway. Call it luck. Without this bow, your head would've been gone already."
Adel gave a wry smile at his words.
'Oh, I know full well. I knew Hien wouldn't take interest without it.'
The mystery everyone pondered: why give a festival disruptor the ritual chance?
No one knew. Except Nazan of the Black Crows.
"This bow... Hien gave it to me as a boy. My first hunt. Right around your age."
Adel eyed the worn shortbow. Small for an adult, but it fit his hand perfectly—not just short, but made for a child.
'Nazan. I even know that's the bow you used to win the Day of the Hunt. Hien must've recalled the old you.'
Because Black Crow Nazan, like Adel, was no Ulan native—an outsider.
Only three knew this secret: Hien, Nazan, and him.
Adel learned it only long after taking Nazan as his master—that he was nobility from Garn Kingdom, one of the central Nine.
'I was shocked too, learning you were an outsider. It made sense why cold, stoic Hien took in central strays.'
But he offered no easy life. Just a path to survival, claiming only those who walked it.
Thus, Adel had boldly stepped forward. No one in the tribe dared meet Hien's eyes straight—not even his son Merka.
Shwaaak---!!!
Then, the tent flap burst open violently.
"Merka."
Nazan, who had just thought of him, sighed lowly, as if expecting the intruder.
"Who the hell is this guy?"
Their eyes met.