However, this serpent-folk tribe outnumbered the High Savage Mountain eagle-men, with approximately three hundred members.
Mike decisively resolved to eradicate this serpent-folk settlement.
That very night,
Mike led all combat-ready tribesmen in a moonlit assault, completely wiping out the small serpent-folk community while they slept.
Afterwards, they began mining copper ore and smelting bronze.
Drawing upon primitive bronze-smelting methods from his past life, Mike succeeded in producing bronze after several attempts.
The Fifth Year
After a year of accumulation,
nearly every warrior in the tribe was equipped with bronze weapons.
With bronze implements, they could now hunt larger and more ferocious prey.
They even dared to confront weaker magical beasts when encountered.
Most tribesmen wielded bronze spears, while Mike forged himself a bronze sword.
The Sixth Year
As bronze reserves increased, Mike cast a massive bronze cauldron with the surplus!
This allowed continuous cooking of food in the cauldron.
Subsequently, various bronze vessels were crafted:
bowls, basins, pots, ladles, and more.
At this point, Mike could formally declare:
The High Savage Mountain tribe had left the Stone Age behind
and entered the Bronze Age.
They had become more civilized
than the majority of races in the world of Ferland.
The Seventh Year
At sixteen winters old, Mike had come of age among the eagle-men.
His frame had grown taller and more agile, his wing-feathers tougher and more powerful.
This year, in preparation for the coming war, Mike began forging bronze armor!
An eagle-man's wings made it impossible to armor their backs fully, and to maintain flight agility, the armor couldn't be too heavy.
So Mike crafted protective plates only for the chest, arms, and head.
A dozen sets of this simple bronze armor were made, worn by Mike and the tribe's strongest warriors—his childhood companions, brothers in all but blood.
As the seasons turned...
That autumn,
as golden leaves danced on the wind,
the envoy from the Eagle King's Court arrived right on schedule!
The sky stretched vast and clear, autumn's breath sharp in the air!
Upon the cliffs of High Savage Mountain,
the grey-feathered envoy hovered midair, gripping a two-meter bone spear, his gaze imperious as he surveyed the tribe below.
His eyes swept over the meager population, a flicker of disdain crossing his features before he boomed:
"High Savage Mountain Tribe! By decree of the King's Court! Fifty warriors shall be conscripted! You have three days to muster at Vastsea Forest and heed the Thunder God's command!"
The familiar conscription echoed across the cliffs—proof of how little the King's Court valued minor tribes like theirs. Decades had passed, yet not a single word of the edict had changed.
This must be the standard conscription order issued to all minor eagle-man tribes beyond the King's Court's domain throughout these vast mountains!
But fifty warriors? An impossible demand.
Their entire tribe, counting even newborn hatchlings, barely numbered two hundred. Of Mike's generation, only thirty-some adult males remained.
In this moment, Mike finally understood the crushing helplessness his eagle-father had felt years ago. That simple blessing—"Grow up strong, my son"—must have carried unbearable sorrow when spoken.
On the cliffs, the tribe stood with bowed heads.
Mike, at the forefront, clenched his talons and swallowed his fury. Drawing a deep breath, he echoed his father's plea:
"Honored Emissary, you see our plight. Fifty warriors would gut our tribe. Might we offer all our adult males instead? We'll fight fiercely for the Thunder God and King's Court!"
"The King's decree tolerates no bargaining!"
The grey-feathered envoy's voice turned glacial.
"Your weed-like tribe survives by the Court's mercy alone. This mountain refuge? A gift you've done nothing to deserve."
His gaze fell upon Mike's clenched talons and the unflinching stare directed at him, stirring murderous intent within.
Tribes like High Savage Mountain were but weeds upon the plains—one wave dies, another sprouts. Their extermination would mean nothing.
This was inevitable!
The King's Court never cared for their survival.
With killing intent rising, the envoy's eyes sharpened, stirring the very winds around them—a manifestation of supernatural power, the force of wind!
Standing on the cliff, Mike felt a sudden chill, his entire body tensing. He immediately lowered his head and declared loudly:
"Honored Emissary, High Savage Mountain obeys the conscription decree!"
For several breaths, the world fell silent, save for the howling winds.
On the cliffs, Mike remained alert, ready to strike at any moment.
After a long pause,
the cold-faced envoy ultimately chose not to act. With a final icy warning, he took flight:
"Fifty warriors. Three days. Remember—one less, one day late, and your entire tribe perishes."
Fury burned in Mike's heart as he watched the envoy disappear into the distance.
Damn it all. One day, I'll overthrow this damned Eagle King's Court!
As the envoy vanished, the tribespeople broke into mournful murmurs.
"When will this war ever end? When will our lives truly improve?"
"We're too weak..."
"Our fathers never returned. Now we'll follow their path."
Seeing their despair, Mike stepped forward and raised his voice:
"Trust me, my kin. This time, I will bring everyone back!"
"If we don't return, I'll die before any of you!"
"And as for the fifty—our adult sisters will join us in battle. The underaged stay behind."
"Yes, Chieftain."
Immediately, over a dozen adult female tribeswomen stepped forward—all the grown eagle-women of their generation.
With this, the High Savage Mountain tribe was truly left with only the elderly and the young.
Mike sighed inwardly, then turned his gaze to the eldest eagle-man youth among them. With a determined smile, he said:
"Leo, after we depart, you'll be the strongest male left. You must lead the youths in protecting our people!"
Tears welling in his eyes, Leo responded solemnly:
"Yes, Brother Mike!"
Nodding at this, Mike comforted his mother briefly before addressing the warriors:
"Good. There's no time to waste—don your bronze armor and take up arms now. We depart for Vastsea Forest within the hour."
One eagle-man questioned:
"Mike, didn't they give us three days? Why the urgency?"
Shaking his head, Mike explained:
"Not one of our ancestors who marched to war ever returned. This time, we must scout ahead—understand Vastsea Forest's true situation and prepare thoroughly!"
The plan to bathe in Titan's blood was too radical to reveal yet, so he offered this prepared justification.
Though not entirely untrue—there was wisdom in this approach.
"Understood. We'll arm ourselves immediately and move out within the hour!"
The eagle-men nodded in unison.
They didn't doubt Mike's words. Having grown up alongside him all these years, their trust in him ran deeper than most.
And so it was decided.
One hour later,
fifty eagle-men armed with bronze swords and spears stood ready. At Mike's command, they took flight westward under the sorrowful gazes of the elderly and children left behind.
They journeyed by starlight and moonlight, traveling day and night!
Through seven sunrises and sunsets,
across towering mountains and vast rivers, through deep valleys and shadowed forests,
Mike finally led his tribal warriors to Vastsea Forest.
It was an immense, boundless woodland, true to its name—a verdant sea stretching endlessly to the horizon.
A great river cut through the forest, flowing onward to distant oceans.
This marked the borderlands of Thunder Titan Yatri's domain, where it clashed with the territory of the Ancient Azure Dragon King, Alilotus.
Their war had raged for years without decisive victory.
Now, Vastsea Forest stood as a colossal military camp, where countless races of Ferland had gathered.
He saw centaurs patrolling the woods, eagle-men circling the skies, trolls setting up camps in the thickets, dwarves riding mountain goats through valleys, goblins felling trees, merfolk resting by the great river, fish-men clutching stone tridents, half-blood giants acting as overseers, sprites and dryads gazing from treetops, boar-men sprawled across the earth... and more.
These were the vassal races of the Titan faction—peoples who had dominated half the world since the Age of Titans began.
The Ancient Dragon faction was no less formidable.
Mike's gaze traveled north across Vastsea Forest, where a three-hundred-meter-tall stone throne rose from the land,
carved as if from an entire mountain.
Upon it sat a near two-hundred-meter-tall giant, his violet hair and golden eyes radiating terrifying majesty.
His presence alone weighed like mountains and oceans, the sheer pressure making Mike's breath catch.