Beginning Of Multiverse Saga

Chapter 226: Flame Beast Tribe

Sharky, Rosie, and Sophia ran after the boy, weaving through the thick jungle brush. The trees towered above them like ancient guardians, and strange sights flashed past as they followed his trail.

They passed massive claw marks gouged deep into the bark of trees—too wide to belong to any normal animal.

A river twisted through the forest... flowing uphill.

And next to it were huge footprints, shaped like paws—but with six toes.

Then, the jungle opened.

They reached a wide cliffside clearing—and below it, curling smoke rose into the sky.

Right there, hidden in the heart of Savroth was a village.

Nestled between trees and cliffs, the village was built from beast bones, vines, and stones blackened by flame.

The huts were strong, with roofs made of dried leaves and fur. Fires burned in small pits, and glowing red totems shaped like beasts watched from the corners.

Rosie’s eyes widened. "There’s... a human village here? But I thought—this place had no humans!"

When they approached the edge of the village, several people had already gathered near the main gate—a gate carved from two massive tusks.

The boy stood at the front, pointing toward them as he spoke to an older woman. Her eyes glowed faintly orange, and her skin was painted in white fire-marks. She looked like a priestess or elder.

Then more villagers arrived, each standing tall, and each with a beast beside them. Fire Lions, Fire Foxes, even a Fire-winged Hawk landed on a post nearby.

Their bodies shimmered faintly with heat, skin marked with fire symbols. Some had smoke trailing from their hands. Others left scorched footprints where they walked.

One of them stepped forward—a tall man with a deep burn scar across his chest and shoulders. His gaze was strong, his voice rough.

He looked Sharky straight in the eyes.

"You from the Sekharii?" the tall man growled, his voice filled with heat like a fire ready to burn. "Have they sunk so low they now send outsiders to steal our children?"

"Steal your child?" Sharky blinked, completely confused. "We just got here. This is the first time I’ve ever stepped foot in Savroth."

Rosie stepped forward, frowning. "What are you talking about? When did we steal anyone?"

The man didn’t lower his guard.

An old elder stepped out from behind the crowd. His long hair was tied back with threads of charred cloth, and his arms were covered in symbols of flame. His eyes—deep, tired, but fierce—locked on Sharky with quiet suspicion.

"You wear strange clothes," the elder said slowly. "You speak like the smooth-tongued ones. Sekharii have sent spies in the past... with soft words and calm faces. They pretend to come in peace."

He pointed a scarred finger at Sharky.

"But they lie. They bring poison, curses, and fire that does not belong to the Flame. They have tried to take our children, weaken our warriors, and burn our bond with the beasts."

The people behind him murmured in agreement, eyes glowing slightly. The Fire Foxes nearby let out low growls, sensing the tension.

"They take what is not theirs," the elder continued. "Then pretend to forget. That is their way."

Sharky took a step forward, calm but firm. "I’m not from any tribe. My name is Sharky Valor. I’m not here to harm your people or take anyone."

Sophia nodded, stepping beside him. "We followed the boy because we were shocked to see a human child here. We thought this continent had no humans."

The elder’s eyes narrowed, watching every movement.

The tall man clenched his fists, heat swirling in the air again. "If you’re not Sekharii... then prove it. Because the last outsiders who came here left behind only pain."

"Who do you think you are, demanding proof from me?" Sharky snapped, his voice rising like a sudden crack of thunder. "If I say I’m not some Sekharii or Fekharii bastard—then I’m not!"

His eyes glowed faintly, the wind around him shifting with pressure. Rosie stepped half in front of him, trying to calm the rising heat in the air.

The elder’s eyes narrowed, unmoved. "Then speak with action, not just words. The Sekharii talk loud too—right before they stab backs."

"I’ve had enough of your guessing games," Sharky growled. "We came here with peace. That’s all."

The tall man with the fire-scarred chest stepped forward again. "Peace means nothing when it comes from a stranger with a temper."

Sophia raised her voice calmly, "Wait. No one here is your enemy. We didn’t come to fight. We didn’t even know humans existed here. We were amazed—curious. That’s all."

The elder looked at her, then back at Sharky.

Finally, he spoke with a slower breath. "If you speak true... then maybe the Flame will show it. If not, the jungle always buries liars."

He raised his hand, pointing to a nearby fire pit.

"Then enter the Trial Flame. Let it judge your heart."

"Did you not hear what I said?" Sharky’s voice was sharp now, his gaze fixed on the villagers in front of him. "I don’t need to prove anything to anyone."

He stepped forward, the wind pressing slightly with each word.

"I came here because I was amazed to see that humans live in Savroth. I was curious—nothing more. But just because I showed up, you think you can throw every blame at me like I’m one of those Sekharii dogs?" His tone rose, eyes glowing faintly with heat.

Then the elder pointed again toward the Trial Flame, unmoved.

Sharky narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, your flame?" he said coldly. He raised his hand. "Fireblast—activate."

In an instant, the fire from the Trial Flame roared up—and then was pulled into Sharky’s palm like water sucked into a void. In seconds, the entire flame vanished, leaving behind only smoke and stunned silence.

He held out his hand, letting the final spark flicker away.

"That was nothing more than a campfire to me."

Gasps echoed among the villagers. Some stepped back. The flame-scarred warrior flinched, instinctively reaching for the beast beside him.

The elder’s painted eyes narrowed. "You... absorbed the Trial Flame..."

The villagers gasped.

The fire from the trial pit, once roaring and sacred, had been pulled into Sharky’s palm like a hungry breath—vanishing in a single flash of light. Not even ash remained.

The man with the burn scars stepped back, his beast growling beside him.

The elder’s eyes widened. "That flame... that was bound to our spirits. No outsider should be able to control it."

"I don’t care what your rules say," Sharky said, voice calm but sharp. "I’ve faced gods and monsters. I came here because I was curious—because I respected the power of this place. But you... you treat strangers like enemies."

Rosie stepped beside Sharky, her eyes sharp. "If we had come to harm you," she said plainly, "you wouldn’t even be standing here right now." Her voice was steady, confident—because she knew exactly what Sharky was capable of. If he wanted, this entire village could vanish in seconds.

Sophia’s voice was softer, but no less firm. She stood close and added, "Don’t judge my husband so quickly. You have no idea who he is."

The elder’s eyes shifted between the three of them. He could feel the pressure in the air—like standing before a storm.

A long silence followed, heavy as stone.

Then finally, the elder exhaled deeply and lowered his staff.

"...Maybe," he said slowly, "you truly are not Sekharii."

Just then, a smaller voice broke the silence—from behind the villagers.

It was the boy.

He stepped forward nervously, still holding the fire bear cub close to his chest.

"He... didn’t hurt me," the boy said. "He just looked... surprised."

The old woman with the white-painted skin knelt beside the boy, whispering something into his ear. Then she stood and faced Sharky again. Her eyes were calm now, searching.

"The flame obeyed you," she said. "That is rare in our lands. The fire does not bow to just anyone."

The elder let out a long sigh, a weight lifting from his shoulders. Then he raised his staff, and nodded.

"Then come," he said. "In our tribe, we do not turn away guests—especially those chosen by the flame. Forgive our rudeness."

Behind him, the great gate of the village creaked open.

---

Sharky, Rosie, and Sophia stepped forward into the village.

Warm air rolled over them, heavy with the scent of charred herbs, smoldering wood, and something strangely sweet—like roasted fruit wrapped in ash.

The village inside was nothing like any city they’d seen across Aetherion.

The huts were crafted from curved bones, fire-hardened stone, and thick vines braided into patterns.

Some of the walls glowed faintly with a red-orange hue—naturally heated by fire-infused rock.

Beasts moved freely between the people: small Fire Foxes curled beside fires, glowing-winged Fire Owls perched on rooftops, and in the distance, a mighty Fire Elephant walked slowly, its tusks steaming like hot irons.

One of the villagers approached them with a respectful bow.

Her skin was darkened by sun and smoke, and her robe was stitched with red feathers and fur.

"Welcome to Flame Beasts Tribe," she said, smiling.

"Flame Beasts Tribe..." Rosie repeated softly. "It’s beautiful."

They were led to a large round hut in the center of the village.

It was taller than the rest, with carvings of flame beasts—Fire Lions, Fire Birds, Fire Wolves—twisting around its walls.

Inside, it was warm, but not uncomfortably so. Firelight flickered in carved lanterns filled with glowing stones.

Food was served in fire-warmed clay bowls—smoked meat, honey-glazed roots, and fruits steamed over lava vents. Sweet, spicy, and smoky, every bite felt alive.

Children watched them curiously, whispering and giggling behind their hands. One boy had a streak of flame trailing behind his footsteps. A girl sneezed and a puff of smoke came out of her ears.

Even the youngest were already learning to control fire in strange and playful ways.

As they sat, the elder returned and offered them a drink in a cup carved from crystalized lava. It fizzed slightly, warm like cinnamon and smooth like honey.

"This is Tharali," he said. "Our drink of welcome. Made from the sap of firebloom trees."

They drank, and the warmth settled in their chest like a quiet ember.

A group of drummers began playing nearby, low and rhythmic beats echoing through the ground. Dancers moved around a ring of fire, each step drawing sparks from the earth.

Some of them wore masks shaped like beast heads—Lion, Fox, Tiger, and even a great Eagle—and danced in circles, mimicking the movement of their sacred animals.

Sophia watched with awe. "They’re... dancing with fire."

As the evening deepened, more people came to greet them—an old woman who spoke only in songs, a young man who could light his arms with fire like twin torches, and a beast-bonded hunter with one glowing eye and a pet Fire Hawk perched on his shoulder.

All of them were kind, but cautious. They were not used to outsiders. But they treated their guests with honor.

—

Later that night, as the firelight danced across the walls of the great hut, a girl stepped through the doorway.

She was beautiful.

In the way a wildfire is beautiful—raw, untamed, impossible to look away from.

Her hair flowed like molten gold, cascading in gentle waves that shimmered with hints of red, as though kissed by embers.

Her skin held the warm hue of sunlit bronze, smooth and flawless, glowing softly in the flickering torchlight.

Her eyes... they were what stole the breath from the room.

Bright, burning gold—like two small suns. They didn’t just glow; they pulsed. With every heartbeat, a quiet wave of heat rippled through the air, soft enough to warm the skin, but deep enough to make the flames on nearby torches flicker in respect.

Her figure was slender, yet powerful—shoulders upright, spine straight, each movement filled with quiet strength.

She wore a traditional flame-tribe garment: a crimson wrap woven from fire-resistant cloth and beast-hide, etched with glowing runes that pulsed gently with her steps.

A golden sash tied her waist, while the lower fabric flowed like a fire dancer’s robe, catching the air with every motion.

She looked young—no more than twenty. But the way she carried herself... it was as though a storm lived beneath her skin.