Time, like a rudimentary balm, seemed to have dressed the most visible wounds. A few days had passed since the arena's dust had drunk ZE-BE's blood. The sun rose, indifferent, over a tribe that had already begun to turn the page, eager to forget its fallen hero.
In front of a simple grave, topped with an uncut stone, ZE-RAK stood motionless. The wind played in his hair, more afro, more wild than before, as if nature itself sought to reclaim its rights over him. The joyful, dreamy boy had been buried with his father. In his place stood a young man with a gaze hardened by loss, where only a cold, determined gleam remained, like the tip of a spear.
"I came back again," he murmured, more to himself than to the dead. His voice was neutral, eroded by grief and repressed anger. "I haven't simulated since. No more hunting scenes in my head. No more imaginary wild boars. Did I grow up? Is this what becoming a man is? Emptying yourself of dreams to fill yourself with duty?"
His face was a mask of neutrality, but his fists, clenched at his sides, betrayed the inner storm. He was now the pillar of his family, and a pillar does not falter, does not tremble, does not cry. It bears weight.
"Tomorrow is the recruitment. I will finally become a hunter." He paused, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "I wanted... I wanted to become a great hunter like you." His voice broke despite himself on the last words, a crack in his nascent armor. He clenched his jaw, regaining control, his breath a furious hiss. "But I don't think I can walk in your footsteps anymore."
Silence was his only answer, a silence heavy with the weight of freshly turned earth.
"After thinking about it," he resumed, his voice once again icy, "I think you were too brilliant. Too good. Too confident. You believed strength and honor were enough. You underestimated the jealousy and cowardice that crawl in the shadows. You believed light was sufficient, and you forgot the snakes hiding under the stones."
His words fell, sharp and bitter, on the tombstone.
"If you had been less kind, if you had instilled even a little fear, you wouldn't have died here. I'm sure it was a setup. But I have no proof. And those who plotted it won't stop there. They see us, mother, ZE-YA and me, as leftovers to clean up. A shame to erase."
He finally turned to leave, casting a last look at the stone, a gaze that was no longer that of a child, but of a strategist.
"So, I will become a hunter. Not for glory. Not for you. But for them. To protect them. And I will do anything for that. Anything. Even if I have to burn this entire tribe of hypocrites."
His eyes, of a terrifying calm, settled on the horizon, toward the sleeping village.
"And... avenging you would only bring them more pain. So I won't do it. I never want to see them suffer like that again."
He paused one last time, and the following words fell like a sentence, the heart of his new oath.
"I will not be like you, father. I will devour everything in my path to build them a haven of peace. That is the difference between us."
Goodbye, father.
---
The next day, the sun rose on a clear day, ironically beautiful. In front of their hut, suddenly too big and too silent, ZE-RAK adjusted the bag containing the few belongings he was taking. Some clothes, a blanket, the small wooden amulet his mother had given him years before.
"There. It's good, everything is ready," he announced, straightening up.
His mother watched him, a heartbreaking mixture of pride and anxiety in her eyes. She had aged ten years in a few days. ZE-YA stared at him with her still mischievous gaze, but tinged with a new worry, a fear of abandonment.
"Big brother... are you really leaving?"
"Don't make that face," he teased, gently pinching her cheek, a gesture of normality that sounded false. "You're going to miss me, is that it?"
"Hmph! I'm the one you're going to miss, because you don't know how to feed yourself properly without me!" she retorted, her nose in the air, bravely playing along.
"Yes, yes, I'm going to miss you a lot," he said with a small, strangely rare laugh, a sound that seemed to come from very far away.
His mother approached, took his hands. Hers trembled slightly.
"You remember everything I told you, don't you?" she whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You must be careful. More than careful. Invisible. Don't look for trouble. Avoid attention. Do what you're told, nothing more. Don't... don't give them any reason."
"Yes, mother, I understand," he interrupted her gently but firmly. His tone left no room for discussion. He bent down, placed a quick kiss on her forehead, then on his sister's. "I will come back to see you as soon as possible. Take care of each other."
He turned and left without looking back. If he had given in for even a moment, if he had seen the despair in their eyes one last time, his armor might have shattered. He walked with a firm step, his back straight, while a new life, heavy with challenges and shadows, began behind him.
---
The apprentice hunters' camp buzzed with nervous energy, a hum of excited and frightened young men. About twenty boys, some already broad-shouldered, others still lanky, chatted in small groups.
ZE-RAK's arrival did not go unnoticed. He walked calmly, his bag on his shoulder, his gaze sweeping the area with analytical coldness. He ignored the looks that fell on him, heavy and curious, then quickly looked away. The murmurs began, low and pernicious, like snakes hissing in the grass.
"Look. It's him. The son of the traitor ZE-BE. I can't believe they let him come."
"The poor guy,I almost pity him."
"Pity?He enjoyed his old man's glory and privileges well enough before! Now he's going to taste real life, like everyone else."
ZE-RAK kept his face impassive, as if he were deaf. The words slid off the shell he had forged, but he recorded them all, sorting them, storing them as so much evidence of the ambient hostility. He was just looking for a place to stand apart, a corner of shadow to observe.
Suddenly, a shout startled everyone, imposing immediate silence.
"Assembly!"
Three imposing figures had just entered the grounds. The crowd of apprentices rushed to form approximate, disorderly rows. ZE-RAK looked up. And his blood ran cold in his veins.
Alongside two unknown hunters—a man with a broad chest and another with an athletic build—stood MASSI.
His body tensed instantly, every muscle ready to leap. A wave of pure, burning rage rose in him, so violent it made him see white spots. But his face, miraculously, betrayed nothing. It was stone. He met the man's gaze, just for an instant. MASSI held his gaze, impassive too, but ZE-RAK saw, or thought he saw, a tiny contraction at the corner of his eye, a brief flash of... guilt? Before he looked away toward the whole group.
"Welcome, all," boomed the first hunter, the broad-chested man, in a voice that carried effortlessly. "I am intermediate hunter MOUGBE. With my colleagues TOGBE," he pointed to the other man, "and MASSI, we will be your instructors for the next two months. Your lives, from now on, belong to us."
ZE-RAK felt a heavy, cold, and familiar weight settle on his shoulders. MASSI. His mentor. His "second brother." The witness. The traitor. The images of the duel, of his father's body in the dust, resurfaced, burning and tearing. He pushed them back, drowned them in the frozen lake of his determination. He forged an even thicker, more impenetrable armor inside himself.
MOUGBE continued, relentless:
"Here is the schedule. You will follow five courses: animal behavior, handling of hunting weapons, EVALA, spirituality, and observation. You will start tomorrow with animal behavior."
A student, a bit too sure of himself, dared to interrupt: "What, starting tomorrow? Can't we even rest?"
"Silence," MOUGBE growled. His gaze, suddenly hard as flint, made the whole camp shiver. "I hate that. Questions are for after. Not during."
He resumed, without blinking.
"You start tomorrow. The camp is divided into four zones: training, dining hall, living quarters, and latrines. That's all. Dismissed. Get settled. Real life begins at dawn."
ZE-RAK listened, recording every piece of information, every nuance, every micro-expression of the instructors, without flinching.
When MOUGBE finally dismissed the group, night was already beginning to fall, painting the sky in orange and purple hues. The apprentices dispersed toward the huts intended for them, their laughter and conversations already seeming distant.
ZE-RAK found himself alone in his, a round and simple hut, smelling of packed earth, dry thatch, and solitude. The darkness enveloped him, complicit and threatening. He remained seated on his straw bed, his eyes wide open in the dark, not making the move to light the small oil lamp.
MASSI's face danced before him in the darkness. His mother's resigned sadness. The fear hidden behind ZE-YA's mischievousness. His father's last smile, sublime and terrible.
Doubt and anger waged a silent battle within him. But one thing was certain, crystalline like the water from the forbidden spring: he was here to learn, to become strong. Not for glory. For survival. To protect his own.
Lying in the darkness, he stayed awake for a long time. He wasn't thinking. He was planning. He was observing, even in the dark. He was a hunter on the lookout, and the biggest prey he had to track was his own weakness.