He stared at his reflection in silence, carefully observing the youthful features he had parted with long ago.
At this moment, he realized with absolute certainty that he had truly returned a full thousand years into the past.
A thousand years filled with hardship.
A thousand years drenched in blood and relentless struggle.
His crimson eyes glowed with a boundless killing intent.
It was as if countless souls he had slain were reflected within that terrifying light.
Slowly, he turned toward the window of his room.
Outside, the moon hung full in the heart of the sky, spreading its silver veil across the land with mesmerizing beauty.
He gazed down at the tribe he had abandoned in his previous life ages ago.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips.
"I missed you, my tribe…"
"It has truly been a long time."
He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength.
When he opened them again, he immediately sensed the emptiness within himself.
His magnificent spiritual farm was gone.
This confirmed something important.
The tribe's spiritual farm had not yet been opened.
He had truly returned to the very beginning.
Determination appeared on his face.
"This time…"
"I will not be limited by the Seventh Rank as I was in my previous life."
"I will surpass every barrier."
"I am certain of it."
"All I have to do is obtain that 'thing' hidden deep within the spiritual farm."
"That is the key that will grant me unmatched superiority."
***
Meanwhile, Jumanji sat silently inside his cell.
He carefully reviewed the chaotic events of the day in his mind.
Questions gnawed at him without mercy.
What exactly was this "Spiritual Farm"?
Why was it so important to everyone?
The more he thought about it, the clearer something became.
The answers would never come to him while he remained imprisoned behind these cold iron bars.
"Am I about to enter a place I know absolutely nothing about?"
Jumanji wondered silently as he closed his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts.
He knew that asking such basic questions openly would only bring suspicion upon him.
Suddenly, the image of the arrow that had pierced the bear's head with supernatural force appeared in his mind.
He remembered his grandfather's words about those who could lift mountains with their fingers or soar through the sky like eagles.
A seed of doubt began to grow in his heart.
Were those the people his grandfather had spoken of?
Jumanji remained like that for two more days.
He waited for the dawn of tomorrow—the day he would finally be released from prison.
It was also the same day the tribe's great spiritual farm would open.
He sat with his back against the wall, his eyes closed, motionless and silent.
He looked almost like a statue carved into the darkness of the cell.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken.
Slow footsteps echoed through the corridor.
They approached gradually before stopping behind the iron bars.
At that moment, Jumanji calmly opened his black eyes.
He lifted his head to see the person who had disturbed his solitude.
"You're unusually quiet today."
"What happened to you all of a sudden?"
The voice carried both curiosity and scrutiny.
It was his father, Galvan.
He had come to check on his son before the awaited day.
Jumanji replied honestly in a low voice.
"It's nothing."
"I just feel… lost."
"I don't know which path I should follow."
His words reflected the turmoil inside him.
At this moment, he truly felt like a stranger in a world whose rules he did not understand.
"I've never seen you like this before," Galvan said slowly.
"You were always full of energy and mischief."
"But now… you seem like a stranger I barely recognize."
"You do know that tomorrow is the day the spiritual farm opens, right?"
"If you enter it in this state, you will awaken nothing more than a weak farm."
Jumanji raised his eyes toward the man who could be called his father.
"I want one thing from you," he said quietly.
"I need to sort out my thoughts."
"My mind feels scattered."
"Tell me more about this farm."
"What does it look like?"
"What kind of farm will awaken inside me?"
"I need these answers now more than ever."
Galvan narrowed his eyes.
He carefully examined his son's face.
Something about Jumanji felt completely different.
Still, the father sensed that his son was struggling internally.
Slowly, Galvan sat down on the ground facing him.
Only the cold iron bars separated them.
"You know the basics already… don't you?" he asked.
"No."
Jumanji interrupted him sharply.
"Tell me everything from the beginning."
"Consider me someone who knows nothing about this world."
Galvan clasped his hands against his chest in surprise.
After a moment of silence, he began explaining the things Jumanji had been waiting to hear.
"Listen carefully. I won't repeat this again."
"As you know, every tribe possesses something known as a Spiritual Farm."
"It is the place where youngsters like you take your first step toward power."
"That is where you awaken your personal farms for the first time."
Galvan paused briefly to make sure his son was paying attention.
Then he continued.
"The tribe's spiritual farm is not a physical place like ordinary locations."
"It exists in a separate dimension beyond reality."
"It is a spiritual void—an independent world where spiritual energy gathers in enormous quantities."
"These farms vary in rank and greatness."
"They are divided into different levels and stages."
His voice lowered slightly as he continued.
"Our tribe's spiritual farm is not merely a gathering of energy."
"In ancient times, it originally belonged to someone."
"A personal farm."
"We do not know his true identity."
"But the stories say he was the founder of our tribe."
"He left it behind as an inheritance so we could draw strength from it."
"As for our tribe itself, it is currently ranked as a Third-Rank Tribe."
"This classification depends entirely on the strength of its members."
"The stronger the leader becomes, the higher the tribe rises."
"When a powerful warrior nears death, he merges his personal farm with the tribe's spiritual farm."
"If his farm is weaker, it simply grants additional traits and resources."
"But if it is stronger… it takes over."
"And becomes the new center of the tribe's spiritual power."
Galvan continued cautiously.
"Even though our tribe is only Third Rank…"
"Our spiritual farm is actually Fourth Rank."
"That is extremely unusual."
"It has attracted the greed of neighboring tribes."
"We have been fighting constantly to protect it from being stolen."
"So when you enter tomorrow…"
"Your first mission is to awaken your personal farms within that ocean of spiritual energy."
"You will do this by forming a prepared void within your soul."
"But before reaching that stage…"
"You must search for something called the 'Leech'."
"Or try to produce one yourself."
"It will become the beating core of your farm."
"And it will determine the path you follow as a warrior."
Jumanji listened carefully.
Every word flowed into his mind like pieces of a puzzle.
The concepts sounded strange and almost fantastical, yet they began forming a picture of power.
Before Galvan could continue, Jumanji suddenly asked:
"The Leech…"
"Tell me more about it."
"What exactly is it?"
Jumanji had asked carefully.
His question was designed to draw more information without making himself appear completely ignorant.
And it worked.
Galvan sighed.
"The Leech is the tool we use in battle."
"It is a creature raised and nourished within the spiritual farm."
"It is a soft-bodied being… something like a snail without its shell."
"It comes in many shapes and colors."
"As for its strength, it is divided into ranks."
"Young beginners like you are expected to produce a Ninth-Rank Leech."
"If someone is fortunate enough to obtain an Eighth-Rank Leech…"
"That would already be considered an extraordinary achievement."
"As you know, there are two ways to obtain a Leech."
"The first is to produce one from the essence of your soul."
"But that is impossible for beginners like you."
"The second method is to hunt its essence."
"That is the easier path."
"The spiritual farm is filled with Leech essences floating within its atmosphere."
"But be careful."
"The Leech possesses a kind of instinctive awareness."
"If it senses you approaching…"
"It will disappear instantly."
"You won't even realize where it went."
Galvan paused again.
"As for the spiritual farm that will awaken inside you…"
"It also has ranks."
"There are weak farms."
"Medium-quality farms."
"And excellent farms."
"You already know what each level means."
"There's no need for me to explain further."
Jumanji absorbed every word carefully.
He chose not to comment on the farm quality for now.
He would deal with that tomorrow.
Galvan continued, pride and hope mixing in his voice.
"Your brother and your cousin have both awakened medium-quality farms."
"That is a good achievement."
"If they continue working hard, their futures will be bright."
"All I hope now…"
"Is that you awaken at least a medium-quality farm as well."
"But if it turns out to be excellent…"
"No one would dare predict how far you could go."
"Your future would be extraordinary."
Galvan studied his son's silent face for a moment.
"Do you need anything else?" he asked quietly.
Jumanji gathered his thoughts.
"That is enough," he replied respectfully.
He bowed slightly.
"Thank you."
Galvan smiled faintly.
"No need for thanks."
"I am your father, after all."
Hearing those words stirred something inside Jumanji's heart.
For a moment, Galvan's voice reminded him of his father from another life.
That bond… no matter how much time passed… could never disappear.
He swallowed the emotions rising within him.
Minutes passed.
Yet Galvan remained seated where he was.
He showed no intention of leaving.
"Aren't you going home?" Jumanji asked.
Galvan replied calmly.
"No."
"I told your mother I would stay here tonight."
Jumanji immediately understood.
His father had decided to remain beside his cell.
To guard him.
To keep him company during his final night in prison.
After all, tomorrow was not just another day.
It was the turning point that would decide his son's future.
Jumanji slowly closed his eyes.
Galvan did the same on the other side of the bars.
A deep silence filled the space between them.
Only their steady breathing could be heard.
Soon, the long hours of night passed like fleeting moments.
Darkness retreated.
And the first threads of dawn appeared.
The sun of the awaited day had risen.
The day the tribe's Spiritual Farm would finally open.
End of Chapter