Chapter 107: The legend
Yamasu had always been a small, tight-knit village since its foundation.
Being the coldest place in the northern region, the villagers spent most of their time indoors, sheltering themselves from the frigid weather. Winter seasons were always the harshest, lasting up to five months.
Luckily, most of the villagers were natives to the area and were accustomed to the cold, preparing accordingly during the warmer months. Provisions and supplies were gathered to last them up to seven months indoors, and the men ensured they built sturdier huts so that when the seasonal storms hit, their homes would not be blown away. Since children were more prone to illness, they were bundled tightly in coats made of thick animal skins and ordered to stay inside indefinitely.
To curb the boredom that came with isolation, the mothers would often tell them tales of heroes from times of old and their adventures. A favorite story was about a leader who wished only for daughters but was fated to have a son. One of his wives, carrying his child, feared his wrath but was aided by a goddess, and the boy was later born clutching an axe, a magical bag, a magic rope, and a magic conga scepter. The leader, unsurprisingly furious to have a son, tried to kill him, but no matter what he did, the boy survived. With the help of the goddess, the boy was told that one day he would avenge himself against his father. Even as a child, he waged war against him.
Though the tale fascinated the children, the stories they loved most were the legends of powerful deities from the East. They were amazed to hear that there was a place in the world where snow never fell, where it was always warm, and where people walked outside without fear of illness.
Such a wonderful and magical place seemed impossible to imagine. They listened intently as their mothers spoke of special humans who shared the same blood as the gods—beings blessed by the power of the sun, large and terrifying figures who could lift mountains with their bare hands. They were revered by all, and what set them apart from regular humans was the color of their eyes, resembling molten gold with the ability to see into a mortal's soul.
It was said that these beings were wise and kind, but when angered, they could become monsters. It was important never to offend them if one wished to avoid their wrath.
So it was no surprise that Kishar's men were unwilling to fight this mysterious man, even if he was not like the half-bloods in the legends. It was simply not worth the risk, and Kishar understood that. With a heavy sigh, he spoke to his men.
"We will not engage in battle with this man. I simply wish to meet him and learn why he has chosen to roam our lands."