The delicate chirping of birds and the soft rustle of the breeze drifted into Harten's consciousness, followed by the sound of running children and innocent laughter filling the air. Harten opened his eyes in confusion, staring up at a ceiling made of thatched straw. "Ugh... where am I? What is this place?" He struggled to sit up, scanning his surroundings; he was inside a small, crudely built hut. Beside him sat a strange-looking old man, busily grinding something.
Harten watched him with suspicion, analyzing the old man's features to discern if he was a lurking enemy. His train of thought was broken when the man spoke words that were strange yet hauntingly familiar. Harten focused; it wasn't the primitive tongue spoken by those he had killed in the forest. It was English! Stranger still, Harten understood every word: "Are you finally awake?"
Harten was stunned internally. "How do I understand him? I've never studied this language!" Wanting to be sure, he waited. The old man repeated a second sentence that Harten understood instantly. "I understand him... but how do I speak?" Without realizing it, he raised his voice and blurted out: "Damn it!"
The old man stopped and looked at him in surprise. "Damn it? Why 'damn it'? Were you expecting a beautiful nurse to greet you upon waking?"
Startled, Harten asked, "No... but how do you understand me?" The old man set down his tools and scrutinized Harten; he was a man of distinct appearance, with graying hair and skin that was a blend of fair and tan. He replied sarcastically, "How do I understand you? Didn't you just speak to me in English? Are you an idiot?"
Harten drowned in a whirlpool of thoughts. "English? When did I learn it? Was I speaking it unconsciously?" Then, the truth struck him: the Chip. It was undoubtedly the cause of anything extraordinary happening to him. He looked at the old man, trying to recover: "Never mind... it seems that after the exhaustion and long isolation in the wilderness, I didn't expect to find a human who could understand me here." The old man nodded. "Even I didn't truly expect to find someone who spoke my language in these parts. A strange coincidence indeed."
The old man held out a wooden bowl containing some pellets. "Swallow these. They're painkillers." Harten took them and consumed them without hesitation; ever since the chip was implanted, toxins had lost their effect on his body. He asked calmly, "What use are painkillers now?" The old man looked at him in disbelief. "You fool! Didn't you injure your leg?"
Harten remembered. "My leg? Ah... the one that damned crocodile mauled. But I'm fine." The old man scoffed, "Fine? A wound like that wouldn't heal for a month at the best of times!" Harten didn't respond; instead, he pulled back the covers and removed the bandages right before the shocked eyes of the old man, who cried out, "What are you doing? You'll ruin your leg!" But the words froze in his throat as he looked at Harten's limb; there wasn't a trace of a single scar, as if it had never been touched. The old man removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. "How did this happen? This is a miracle! Answer me... who are you, really?"
Harten's gaze shifted back to its habitual coldness. He thought, "What do I do now? I didn't account for meeting a human who understands me. Should I kill him? No, I won't find my way without his help. And lying is what I do best." Harten decided to tell him a partial truth, recounting his fall from a plane and his two years of survival in the wild. However, he hid the existence of Joe and the Chip, and made no mention of the forest where he slaughtered the ten men, fearing they might be from this very village.
The old man sighed with compassion. "It seems you've truly suffered, Harten... Welcome to the Village of the Weak." Harten found the name odd. "The Village of the Weak? Why such a name, old man?" The man replied with gravity, "First, speak with respect to your elders. Second, live here for a while and you'll learn the reason." At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and the old man began talking to someone outside. Harten didn't care; he lay back on the straw bed, musing, "Was I hallucinating? I saw a girl at the village entrance before I passed out... was it regret? I doubt it. I feel nothing."
The old man interrupted his reflections: "Harten, come and eat." Harten stood up, and when he looked at the person standing beside the old man, he froze in shock. It was the girl he had killed! She stood there looking at him with curiosity. His heart hammered violently. "How? Didn't I kill her?" He tried to steady himself, but the astonishment was plain on his face. The old man noticed his gaze and smiled teasingly, "Oh, it seems it's the first time you've seen a beautiful girl in a long time," then burst into laughter. "Let's go, Harten."
The girl stepped out, followed by the old man and Harten, who was still reeling from the shock. He stepped out into the bright sunlight, which strained his eyes at first, only to see children with bronze and black skin running everywhere. He began to wander, looking for the old man amid the curious gazes following him as a stranger. Suddenly, he felt something tugging at his leg; he looked down to find a small girl looking up, uttering unintelligible words while raising her hands. Harten said sharply, "Go away, I don't want to hurt you," but she didn't understand. He sighed in frustration and picked her up to set her aside, but children surrounded him from all sides—some climbed his back, others clung to his arm, thinking he was playing with them. Harten nearly lost his temper, tempted to use his strength against them, until he heard the old man shout, and the children scattered instantly.
The old man laughed, "I leave you for a moment and find you playing with the kids!" Harten replied irritably, "I wasn't playing with them. They surrounded me, and I didn't want to hurt them." They headed toward a large circular rock where two elderly women and a girl around eighteen were sitting, along with the girl who resembled his victim (whom Harten now realized was not her, but simply a resemblance born of the primitive surroundings).
The rock served as a table, set with wooden bowls containing a green soup. The old man handed a bowl to Harten, saying, "Eat." Harten caught the scent; it smelled like cave moss. He took a sip and was revolted by the bitterness and filth of the taste. "Damn it! What is this taste? And where is the meat?" The old man laughed mockingly. "Meat? I hasn't tasted meat in years! Our food is moss, plants, and insects at best."
Harten protested, "How? The world is teeming with buffalo in the neighboring region." Silence fell, then the old man spoke in a broken tone, "Those buffalo belong to the Kinkepi clan. Anyone who approaches them meets only death. They enforce their rule with machine guns; they take our most beautiful women and most skilled craftsmen. Anyone who objects is killed... So, Harten, do not stir up trouble with them."
Harten stood up, his muscular frame tensing as he stretched his limbs coldly. "Fine, old man. Where are my things?" The old man asked anxiously, "In the hut, but what do you intend to do?" Harten replied with a confident tone, "I'm going hunting... I'm going to bring back real food." At that moment, the strange girl, Arsha, with her thick hair and captivating cat-like features, laughed, "How will you hunt, you pampered boy?"
Harten wondered, "How does she speak English?" As if reading his mind, the old man said, "She is my student, Arsha. She speaks English fluently, but her temper is sharp. I suggest Nora; she is calmer and more beautiful." Arsha shouted, "I heard you, old man! That clumsy girl isn't more beautiful than me!" The old man turned to Harten and said, "You're a young man... tell me, which of them is more beautiful?"
Arsha's face flushed as she looked at Harten's handsome face and athletic build, waiting for his answer. Harten looked at both girls with total indifference, then turned his back on them as he walked toward the hut, saying curtly, "I have no time for nonsense... I must get the food."
Arsha looked at the old man in frustration. "Who does this stranger think he is?" The old man lay back on the ground, smiling. "I don't really know, but he's full of surprises... I'll wait for him. But if he brings meat, don't you dare eat any of it, you spiteful girl!"
The delicate chirping of birds and the soft rustle of the breeze drifted into Harten's consciousness, followed by the sound of running children and innocent laughter filling the air. Harten opened his eyes in confusion, staring up at a ceiling made of thatched straw. "Ugh... where am I? What is this place?" He struggled to sit up, scanning his surroundings; he was inside a small, crudely built hut. Beside him sat a strange-looking old man, busily grinding something.
Harten watched him with suspicion, analyzing the old man's features to discern if he was a lurking enemy. His train of thought was broken when the man spoke words that were strange yet hauntingly familiar. Harten focused; it wasn't the primitive tongue spoken by those he had killed in the forest. It was English! Stranger still, Harten understood every word: "Are you finally awake?"
Harten was stunned internally. "How do I understand him? I've never studied this language!" Wanting to be sure, he waited. The old man repeated a second sentence that Harten understood instantly. "I understand him... but how do I speak?" Without realizing it, he raised his voice and blurted out: "Damn it!"
The old man stopped and looked at him in surprise. "Damn it? Why 'damn it'? Were you expecting a beautiful nurse to greet you upon waking?"
Startled, Harten asked, "No... but how do you understand me?" The old man set down his tools and scrutinized Harten; he was a man of distinct appearance, with graying hair and skin that was a blend of fair and tan. He replied sarcastically, "How do I understand you? Didn't you just speak to me in English? Are you an idiot?"
Harten drowned in a whirlpool of thoughts. "English? When did I learn it? Was I speaking it unconsciously?" Then, the truth struck him: the Chip. It was undoubtedly the cause of anything extraordinary happening to him. He looked at the old man, trying to recover: "Never mind... it seems that after the exhaustion and long isolation in the wilderness, I didn't expect to find a human who could understand me here." The old man nodded. "Even I didn't truly expect to find someone who spoke my language in these parts. A strange coincidence indeed."
The old man held out a wooden bowl containing some pellets. "Swallow these. They're painkillers." Harten took them and consumed them without hesitation; ever since the chip was implanted, toxins had lost their effect on his body. He asked calmly, "What use are painkillers now?" The old man looked at him in disbelief. "You fool! Didn't you injure your leg?"
Harten remembered. "My leg? Ah... the one that damned crocodile mauled. But I'm fine." The old man scoffed, "Fine? A wound like that wouldn't heal for a month at the best of times!" Harten didn't respond; instead, he pulled back the covers and removed the bandages right before the shocked eyes of the old man, who cried out, "What are you doing? You'll ruin your leg!" But the words froze in his throat as he looked at Harten's limb; there wasn't a trace of a single scar, as if it had never been touched. The old man removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. "How did this happen? This is a miracle! Answer me... who are you, really?"
Harten's gaze shifted back to its habitual coldness. He thought, "What do I do now? I didn't account for meeting a human who understands me. Should I kill him? No, I won't find my way without his help. And lying is what I do best." Harten decided to tell him a partial truth, recounting his fall from a plane and his two years of survival in the wild. However, he hid the existence of Joe and the Chip, and made no mention of the forest where he slaughtered the ten men, fearing they might be from this very village.
The old man sighed with compassion. "It seems you've truly suffered, Harten... Welcome to the Village of the Weak." Harten found the name odd. "The Village of the Weak? Why such a name, old man?" The man replied with gravity, "First, speak with respect to your elders. Second, live here for a while and you'll learn the reason." At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and the old man began talking to someone outside. Harten didn't care; he lay back on the straw bed, musing, "Was I hallucinating? I saw a girl at the village entrance before I passed out... was it regret? I doubt it. I feel nothing."
The old man interrupted his reflections: "Harten, come and eat." Harten stood up, and when he looked at the person standing beside the old man, he froze in shock. It was the girl he had killed! She stood there looking at him with curiosity. His heart hammered violently. "How? Didn't I kill her?" He tried to steady himself, but the astonishment was plain on his face. The old man noticed his gaze and smiled teasingly, "Oh, it seems it's the first time you've seen a beautiful girl in a long time," then burst into laughter. "Let's go, Harten."
The girl stepped out, followed by the old man and Harten, who was still reeling from the shock. He stepped out into the bright sunlight, which strained his eyes at first, only to see children with bronze and black skin running everywhere. He began to wander, looking for the old man amid the curious gazes following him as a stranger. Suddenly, he felt something tugging at his leg; he looked down to find a small girl looking up, uttering unintelligible words while raising her hands. Harten said sharply, "Go away, I don't want to hurt you," but she didn't understand. He sighed in frustration and picked her up to set her aside, but children surrounded him from all sides—some climbed his back, others clung to his arm, thinking he was playing with them. Harten nearly lost his temper, tempted to use his strength against them, until he heard the old man shout, and the children scattered instantly.
The old man laughed, "I leave you for a moment and find you playing with the kids!" Harten replied irritably, "I wasn't playing with them. They surrounded me, and I didn't want to hurt them." They headed toward a large circular rock where two elderly women and a girl around eighteen were sitting, along with the girl who resembled his victim (whom Harten now realized was not her, but simply a resemblance born of the primitive surroundings).
The rock served as a table, set with wooden bowls containing a green soup. The old man handed a bowl to Harten, saying, "Eat." Harten caught the scent; it smelled like cave moss. He took a sip and was revolted by the bitterness and filth of the taste. "Damn it! What is this taste? And where is the meat?" The old man laughed mockingly. "Meat? I hasn't tasted meat in years! Our food is moss, plants, and insects at best."
Harten protested, "How? The world is teeming with buffalo in the neighboring region." Silence fell, then the old man spoke in a broken tone, "Those buffalo belong to the Kinkepi clan. Anyone who approaches them meets only death. They enforce their rule with machine guns; they take our most beautiful women and most skilled craftsmen. Anyone who objects is killed... So, Harten, do not stir up trouble with them."
Harten stood up, his muscular frame tensing as he stretched his limbs coldly. "Fine, old man. Where are my things?" The old man asked anxiously, "In the hut, but what do you intend to do?" Harten replied with a confident tone, "I'm going hunting... I'm going to bring back real food." At that moment, the strange girl, Arsha, with her thick hair and captivating cat-like features, laughed, "How will you hunt, you pampered boy?"
Harten wondered, "How does she speak English?" As if reading his mind, the old man said, "She is my student, Arsha. She speaks English fluently, but her temper is sharp. I suggest Nora; she is calmer and more beautiful." Arsha shouted, "I heard you, old man! That clumsy girl isn't more beautiful than me!" The old man turned to Harten and said, "You're a young man... tell me, which of them is more beautiful?"
Arsha's face flushed as she looked at Harten's handsome face and athletic build, waiting for his answer. Harten looked at both girls with total indifference, then turned his back on them as he walked toward the hut, saying curtly, "I have no time for nonsense... I must get the food."
Arsha looked at the old man in frustration. "Who does this stranger think he is?" The old man lay back on the ground, smiling. "I don't really know, but he's full of surprises... I'll wait for him. But if he brings meat, don't you dare eat any of it, you spiteful girl!"