After eating his fill, Reid patted his stomach and stood up.
"Old man, I'm going to check on that wreck of a ship I brought with me. It's been with me all this way. I'll still need it when I head back out to sea."
The chief led him and the young girl to the beach outside the village.
The stolen Piruka vessel sat half-buried in the sand, tilted at an awkward angle. Its hull was scarred with visible damage and deep scratches, far beyond what the tribe's current skills could repair.
An elderly shipwright circled the vessel several times before finally shaking his head.
"This iron ship is too complicated. We can't fix it."
He paused, then tapped a solid piece of timber nearby.
"But… if you're not in a hurry, we can build you a new wooden ship. Strong, durable, and fast enough for the open sea. It won't be much slower than this one."
Reid didn't argue.
He already understood something important.
This tribe had not yet been dragged into war, and he had no intention of becoming the reason they suffered.
He glanced at the ruined metal ship, then at the villagers.
Their faces were warm and welcoming, but beneath that, he could see exhaustion.
Shipbuilding required manpower. Resources. Time.
Things this small, struggling tribe could barely spare.
Even a simple fishing boat would be a burden, let alone a vessel capable of long voyages.
Reid might be shameless, but he was not cruel enough to exploit kindness like this.
Still…
He hadn't expected that at his age, he would be troubled over something as simple as a ship.
For a moment, he even thought of Tesoro.
"Wooden ships are great," Reid said with a grin. "I like them. They've got character."
He stretched his shoulders.
"But no rush. Old man, I'll take a walk in the forest first. Stretch my legs."
Before the chief could respond, a faint burst of blood mist flickered around him.
In the next instant, he shot into the dense forest like a streak of red light.
The chief and the shipwright exchanged a glance.
What is that kid up to now?
They looked toward the forest, puzzled, but eventually waved the others away.
Only then did they notice the girl.
At some point, she had quietly moved to the shadow of the broken ship.
She sat curled into herself in a small, unnoticed corner, arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting lightly on them.
Her empty gaze was fixed on the ground.
She felt completely out of place among the tribe's lively energy.
A few women who were about to leave stopped when they saw her.
Their expressions softened with concern.
"She's so thin… a strong wind could blow her away."
"And so pale. She must have suffered a lot…"
"That foolish boy doesn't look reliable, but he treats her well. At least he knows to go hunting… though going alone is dangerous…"
Their voices were quiet, but their concern was genuine.
One woman moved as if to bring her food, only to be gently stopped by an older aunt.
"Don't," the older woman said softly. "Look at her eyes. She's not ready. You might scare her."
"Let her sit for now. As long as she knows she's safe here, that's enough."
So no one approached her.
They simply watched from a distance, their eyes filled with care.
A few curious children tried to run over, but were quickly pulled back and lightly scolded.
Time passed.
Then suddenly
Snort.
Snort.
A small child crouched nearby tilted his head, staring at the girl.
"Huh… why is it black underneath?"
"And that long stripe… it's weird…"
Snort snort.
"Mom!!"
"Waaah!!"
The child burst into tears.
The chief frowned more deeply as he watched the girl still sitting in the shadows.
She was nothing like his own daughter.
If this continued, something would break.
Leaning on his staff, he slowly walked over, stopping a few steps away. He made sure his voice was gentle.
"Child, the sea breeze is strong, and the air is damp. If you stay here too long, you'll get sick. A fever can kill."
No response.
The girl didn't move at all, as if she hadn't heard him.
The chief paused, then added softly:
"If you get sick… that foolish boy will be worried when he comes back."
Worried.
At that word, the girl's arms tightened slightly around her knees.
Worried…
The word felt both familiar and distant.
Long ago… before she had been "chosen."
Before she ate that fruit that changed her fate…
Someone had cared like that.
A warmth, blurred and forgotten.
For some reason, she gave a tiny nod.
It was so slight it was almost invisible.
But the chief saw it.
Relief flickered across his face. He waved to the women nearby.
"Alright, don't just stand there. Bring her inside. Give her something warm. Don't let her catch a chill."
Child: Clown!!!
Not long after
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Heavy impacts shook the ground, as if something massive was moving through the forest.
The entire village froze.
Weapons were grabbed instinctively as everyone stared toward the trees.
Then
CRACK!
The forest edge exploded apart.
Reid stepped out first.
Behind him, dragged effortlessly through the air by swirling blood mist, were ten enormous wild boars.
Each one was the size of a small hill.
Tusks like blades.
Bodies as large as sailboats.
Beasts that ruled the forest.
Now reduced to nothing more than prey, silently dragged across the ground, carving deep trenches in the earth.
Reid hauled the mountain of meat into the center of the village and grinned at the stunned crowd.
"This should cover shipbuilding costs, food expenses, and supplies for the next few days, right?"
Silence.
Absolute silence.
No one could speak.
Just one of those boars would be enough to feed the entire tribe for over half a month.
The chief looked at the ten "mountains of meat," then at Reid's casual expression.
After a long pause, he slapped his thigh hard, his voice trembling with emotion.
"It's enough! More than enough!"
"You fool… you really are a fool…"
He couldn't find the right words.
Reid simply smiled.
Now, shipbuilding would no longer be a burden.
It would become a blessing.