Chapter 43: The Weight of Words
Kellar turned on his heel and started pulling the sled without waiting for a reply, leaving the clan leader with his mouth half-open and a face stiff with rage. There was no reason to stay and argue; he had already won the political battle in front of the entire tribe, and it was time to make a victorious exit.
Standing beside the clan leader, Krag, the seasoned leader of the hunting squads, watched Kellar’s retreating back with a faint nod of approval.
"The boy’s got good grit," said Krag, crossing his arms. "If he keeps this up, he’ll be the next hunt master. You’d do well to treat him right, Leader. Your food might depend on him at some point."
Next to them, Tor clenched his fists until his knuckles turned pale. He was furious. All he ever heard was people comparing him to Kellar. What was so great about that skinny guy? To Tor, Kellar was nothing but garbage. Since childhood, he had been taught that the only true power came from raw muscle, yet here he was, being outshone by a brat thinner than his own arm. The realization left him burning with humiliation.
As they made their way down the path toward their cabin, Mila walked beside Kellar with a worried expression.
"Kellar... did you have to stand up to the clan leader like that?" said Mila, glancing back toward the plaza. "Picking a direct fight with them is dangerous."
Kellar knew that all too well, but seeing the genuine worry in Mila’s eyes brought a comforting warmth to his chest. This was his real family.
When they arrived home, Aunt Maya and Meli hurried outside to meet them. The moment they laid eyes on the boar carcass resting on the sled, both began jumping with excitement. Seeing a monster of that size meant guaranteed food for the rest of the brutal winter lifting everyone’s spirits.
"Could you bring out the collected water?" said Kellar, rolling up his sleeves. "I’ll start skinning it right away so we can store the meat."
At that exact moment, a blue light flashed across his vision with a fresh System notification:
[New Quest: Clan Prestige]
[Objective: Accumulate 1,000 Prestige Points within the tribe.]
[Reward: 2 Tech Points | +5 Strength | +5 Dexterity]
....
[Current Prestige: 10/1000]
...
[Current Prestige: 30/1000]
...
[Current Prestige: 85/1000]
...
...
[Current Prestige: 200/1000]
The numbers spiked in a sudden surge before settling as the commotion in the central plaza died down.
"Two hundred points just from that little display back there..." thought Kellar with a confident smirk. "Getting the rest shouldn’t be too hard."
Mila returned carrying several pots filled with fresh water, setting them down near the sled.
"Here’s all the water you asked for," said Mila, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
"Perfect," said Kellar, rolling up his sleeves. "Let’s begin."
He started by making a clean incision at the neck, draining the dark blood into a large, clean vessel so he could make blood sausage later.
As he set the containers aside and began separating the horns and thick joints, Aunt Maya couldn’t help but ask.
"Why are you saving the blood, the bones, and the horns if we can’t eat them?" said Aunt Maya, pointing at the remains Kellar was piling up.
"We’ll need them later to make tools, cordage, and other materials," said Kellar, not stopping his work for a second.
Drawing his ceremonial dagger, he focused on the hide. Guided by the newly acquired knowledge of primitive tanning, he slid the blade beneath the thick skin, removing the pelt whole without a single accidental tear so it would be ready for curing.
With the beast skinned, the Butcher skill activated. Red lines highlighted the beast’s weak points and joints across the exposed muscle. He separated and discarded the venomous glands and organs first. Then, he got to work on the butchering. He separated the best cuts of loin and ribs for a barbecue that very night, and piled up the rest of the carcass to be smoked later.
With every clean cut through the tough meat, the System interface flashed in his vision:
[Butcher Lvl 1. +1 Exp.]
[Butcher Lvl 1. +1 Exp.]
[Butcher Lvl 1. +1 Exp.]
Working through the eight-hundred-kilo boar was a grueling task, but the steady flow of experience kept him going. He moved on to separating the bones, and as he severed the final joint, the experience indicator came to a halt at a tense 49/50, just one point away from leveling up.
Just as he was finishing up with the last set of bones, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the path. A large crowd began pouring into the area around the cabin—mostly villagers from the lower district, dressed in thin, patched-up furs.
The news that there would be free meat distributed had spread like wildfire. Everyone in the tribe already knew that the young champion hunter was compassionate toward his people, having come from a difficult background just like them. They believed Kellar was doing all of this to save them from suffering the same hardship he once endured.
From mouth to mouth, the story mutated rapidly. Kellar went from being a guy who wanted to help his tribe to a merciful saint, a gentle savior who lived only to lift up the poor and helpless. Sometimes, human imagination and word of mouth were the best advertising anyone could ever buy.
Seeing the hopeful eyes of the hungry crowd, Kellar delivered one final precise chop through a dense joint to split a large cut of meat for distribution.
In that moment, a soft chime sounded in his mind:
[Butcher Lvl 1. +1 Exp.]
[Butcher Lvl 1: Max Level Reached! Skill Level Up -> Butcher Lvl 2]
Seeing the prompt flash in his vision, Kellar couldn’t help but let out a genuine, satisfied smile.
"Finally," thought Kellar, admiring the leveled-up skill.
The waiting crowd, however misread his expression. Seeing the young champion turn to them with such a bright, warm smile on his face, they were convinced that he was thrilled to see them arrive—overjoyed at the mere chance to feed his hungry people.
Soft gasps and tearful murmurs broke out among the villagers as they stepped forward with their wooden bowls and baskets. To them, that smile confirmed everything: Kellar really was the saint they believed him to be.