As the unfamiliar person walked toward him, Demos' instincts kicked in. Despite his battered and bruised body, he summoned all his remaining strength and sprang into action.
With a fierce battle cry, Demos launched himself off the rough surface, his muscles screaming in protest. He landed in a battle stance, fists clenched, eyes blazing with fierce determination.
The elderly woman stopped in her tracks, a hint of surprise on her face. But then, a warm smile spread across her lips, and she nodded in approval.
"Ah, Demos, you are indeed a true warrior," the elderly woman said, her voice filled with admiration. "But there is no need for battle stances here. I come in peace."
Demos' eyes narrowed, his body still tense and ready to fight. He didn't know this person, and he wasn't about to let his guard down.
"I'm Akira, a healer of this dying tribe," the elderly woman continued, her eyes filled with deep sadness.
Demos' expression didn't change, but his mind was racing.
A healer? What did she mean by 'dying tribe'? he thought.
Akira stepped closer, hands held out in a calming gesture.
"Please, Demos, you don't need to be wary. I'm here to help you."
Demos' eyes flicked to her hands, then back to her face. He remained on guard, but something about her gentle demeanor put him slightly at ease.
"What do you mean by 'dying tribe'?" he asked, voice cautious.
Akira's expression turned grim.
"Our tribe is on the brink of collapse. We've been plagued by illness, hunger, and we were attacked by the Tall People. Our people are dying, and if we don't restore balance soon... we'll vanish forever."
Demos' eyes widened, shocked by her words.
"Tall people? Who are they? Why did they attack your tribe? And how many of your people remain?"
Akira's eyes dimmed with sorrow.
"We once had around 500 people... now only 50 remain."
Demos' thoughts raced.
Fifty people? That's a devastating decline. How has the tribe even survived this long?
His expression hardened.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice firm but controlled. "Why are there only fifty of you left?"
Akira looked away, her expression haunted.
"Our tribe is dying," she whispered. "We were attacked by the Tall People, a ruthless and brutal tribe that has terrorized us for thirty moons."
Demos clenched his jaw, rage simmering beneath the surface.
"What do you mean?"
Akira took a breath, eyes flashing with painful memories.
"They came out of nowhere. Their warriors towered over us like trees. They brought disease and destruction—killing our people and burning our homes. We fought back, but we were vastly outmatched. Fifteen of their warriors crushed all of ours. We knew we didn't stand a chance."
Demos' mind reeled with the scale of devastation.
"How many...?" He couldn't even finish the sentence.
Akira's voice cracked, her eyes welling with tears.
"Our former leader, Gorlack, sacrificed most of our warriors to stall the Tall People. He sent five warriors with fifty others—mostly children, women, and the elderly—to flee and find safety."
Demos' expression grew resolute. He had just defeated Gorthok in a brutal battle—and now, fate had placed this broken tribe in his hands.
As the newly appointed leader, he knew the path ahead would demand sacrifice. But he would do whatever it took to protect his people.
All throughout Akira's story, her eyes never left Demos' face—watching for his reaction, searching for hope.
When she finished cleaning his wounds, Akira dropped to her knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Then, without warning, she slammed her head to the cave floor. A loud crack echoed, and blood gushed onto the stone.
"Demos!" she cried. "Great Warrior of Sparta, I beg you—as the new leader of this tribe—please help us! We will follow your every word, even to death. I don't want to watch our people vanish into nothing!"
Demos raised an eyebrow as the rest of the forty-nine tribe members entered the cave and dropped to their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground before him—pledging themselves to their new leader.
Just as Demos opened his mouth to speak, a glowing white light popped up in his vision. The System Interface.
Startled, he blinked and raised a hand to touch it. To his surprise, he could actually interact with the glowing box.
He turned to Akira.
"Can you see this white box glowing in front of me?"
Akira's face turned tense, disappointed that he hadn't responded to her plea, yet not wanting to disrespect him.
"No," she answered, a bit sharply. "I can only see you."
Demos turned to the others, still kneeling.
"Can anyone see this white box floating in mid-air?"
They lifted their heads, confused and blinking.
"What is a white box? Can it be eaten?" one man asked.
Demos' eyes narrowed.
They're... primitive. They can't see it. Only I can.
He turned back to the glowing interface and pressed it.
Name: Demos S. Sparta
Age: 15
Level: 1
Health: 26/100
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Intelligence: 10
Abilities: (##$#) Sealed, (#_#$#) Sealed, (#$$#$$) Sealed
Unique Abilities:
Five-Colored Lightning – Sealed Ice Age – Sealed
Language Pack Installed: Azuran Language
Skill: Hand-to-Hand Combat (Level 1)
Mission – COMPLETED:
Survive for 20 minutes
Reward: +2 Strength, +2 Agility
New Mission – ACTIVE:
BECOME THE LEADER OF A DYING TRIBE
Reward: One-Handed Axe
Punishment: Instant Death
Demos stood silently, staring at the mission text. He was in a dilemma—but with no other option, he steeled his resolve. Then he looked down at the tribe.
"As of today," he said firmly, "I, Demos S. Sparta, will lead this dying tribe to greatness."
Akira's face lit up with joy. The people erupted into relieved laughter. Children giggled. The old and sickly cried tears of hope—for a warrior now stood to protect them.
Demos turned to Akira.
"Where is Gorthok?"
"He's outside the cave with the other warriors, roasting Harn boar," she replied.
"Good," Demos said. "I will rest here for three moons."
"Yes, Tribe Leader," Akira said, bowing. "I'll send someone with roasted meat for you."
"Yes," Demos nodded.
Akira led the tribe members outside the cave, leaving their new leader to rest and prepare.