The tent was slightly dim, with the only light source coming from the bone flame basin in the center of the room.
It was polished from the skull of a Mammoth, and the bottom of the basin was covered with ancient loa runes.
At this moment, a pale purple flame glow slowly burned within it, without smoke or charcoal, just gently flickering as if breathing.
Skala sat cross-legged beside the fire, facing the five remaining elders of the Tok-Aak tribe who were willing to attend.
In the very center was Xilika.
No one spoke.
This was not a refusal, but an old custom—whoever proposed the topic spoke first.
Skala gently placed the Obsidian Divine Emblem on the animal hide in front of him.
Under the firelight, light and shadow flickered on the surface of the dragon's eye, and the vertical pupils vaguely reflected the outline of everyone in the tent.
"I intend to leave."
He spoke calmly, without using "request" or "suggestion."
Xilika raised an eyebrow slightly but did not interrupt.
"Tok-Aak now has food, shelter, and faith," Skala continued, "but we are not the only ones who have lost their protection. There are other tribes, like us, abandoned, exiled, or… ignored by the loa."
"You want them to believe in you too," said Ilo, an old warrior sitting on the right, his voice cold.
"Not in me," Skala looked back at him, "but in the God who answered us."
"We can't even say his name clearly," another elderly witch whispered, "Lord of Shadow? Dragon? Obsidian?"
"Obsidian, the Shadow Dragon," Skala looked down at the Divine Emblem, "He answered us, so we answer him."
After a brief silence, an old man whose face was covered with old tattoos asked in a low voice, "What do you plan to do?"
"Carry the Divine Emblem, visit those camps where totems have extinguished, and abandoned old tribes, and look for people who are willing to listen," Skala replied, "If they are willing to believe, I will leave the Divine Emblem. If they don't believe, I will leave."
"Are you going to form an alliance?"
"I am merely delivering a message."
He paused, "But if they are willing to go together, willing to jointly resist Frost Howl, that is another matter."
Ilo let out a dismissive scoff.
"You think a few 'Divine Emblems' carved from stone can make people abandon their totems? That's not just faith, it's our ancestral bloodline."
"We are not abandoning," Skala looked up, "we are abandoned."
Silence fell upon the tent once more.
The firewood in the fire crackled, and the Divine Emblem glowed slightly with it, as if judging the two silent factions.
Finally, Xilika spoke: "You may go."
She did not ask if he would succeed, nor did she offer a blessing.
She only admonished: "Do not gamble with the name of Tok-Aak."
"I won't," Skala nodded.
"Use your own name." She paused, then added in a low voice, "Or my name, but don't bring your father into it."
Skala did not answer, merely retrieved the Divine Emblem and put it into his bosom.
He stood up, the firelight illuminating his straight back, much like the chieftains of the trolls.
The moment he stepped out of the tent, the sky had already dawned.
As Skala stepped onto the stone steps, treading on the accumulated snow, the shrine construction site was already bustling with people.
Several young hunters were moving stone materials, and shaman apprentices were carefully outlining patterns with dyes; the entire platform was quiet and solemn.
The prototype of the shrine had already appeared.
The central idol had not yet been fully carved, but the animal hides embroidered with the Divine Emblem were already fluttering in the wind.
Four carved pillars stood around the central idol, and at their tops would be placed Obsidian's domain runes, at least that's what the oracle said.
Gulen stood on high ground, dressed in plain clothes, his posture erect.
His leg injury had long since been healed by Obsidian, and his steps were even steadier than when he was young.
He looked down at the construction details, his brows slightly furrowed, clearly not satisfied with the position of a certain pillar.
"You're up quite early," Skala approached, his tone calm.
Gulen did not turn around, only saying, "You spent the whole night with those old fellows yesterday?"
"I have a responsibility."
"Of course you do," Gulen turned, his expression unchanged, "You are the first one He responded to."
Skala did not reply, merely surveyed the construction site.
"Good progress."
"They think He is watching, so they work especially fast," Gulen smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
Skala glanced at him and whispered, "You still don't believe in Him."
"I don't believe in any 'loa'," Gulen shrugged, "but I believe in you."
The two fell silent.
The distant wind blew, stirring the animal hide banner fluttering in the breeze.
The nascent sunlight cast shadows, imprinted on the snowy ground, as if also listening to their dispute.
"I'm not going to preach miracles," Skala slowly said, "I'm just going to tell them that we have been answered."
"You have been answered," Gulen nodded, "He answered you."
"Aren't you afraid I'm mistaken in my belief?"
"I am afraid," Gulen looked at him, "but I am more afraid that you are right."
Skala frowned slightly.
"If you are right, it means He is real," Gulen's voice was calm, "And a true God will not only offer protection. They will demand taxes, armies, oaths, and blood."
The sun had fully risen above the horizon, yet the air felt even more somber than the previous night.
"Are you ready to become a footnote in someone else's miracle?"
Skala did not answer. He merely walked to the shrine and knelt on one knee before the base of the idol.
This prospective chieftain prayed before his God, hoping He would forgive his doubting brother.
A moment later, he stood up and turned to leave:
"My father was right. You are too clever to be a chieftain."
Gulen did not stop him, merely watched his retreating back and whispered:
"Remember, I am on your side."
"Even if the one you believe in is not a God."
—Dividing line—
Obsidian, flying in the sky above Storm Peaks, suddenly paused.
His divine consciousness perceived a not-so-intense dispute among the Divine Emblems in the distant southern lands—between belief and doubt, words like blades, yet not harming anyone.
He heard Gulen's sarcasm, and he heard Skala's silence.
But he did not intervene.
"Iron must be tempered a hundred times to become steel."
Without being tempered through countless trials, how could one know the depth of faith?
Moreover, faith is something that requires mutual willingness.
As for the matter of him bestowing blessings upon Gulen yet not winning his loyalty…
Well, he was indeed a bit displeased, but it was certainly not enough to bring down divine punishment for such a minor matter.
Besides, Obsidian glanced at his Divinity panel again and found that the number of Ice Trolls who believed in him had risen to 43.
"Skala is doing well, so I'll allow your brother to have a little bit of his own thoughts."
He gently collected his thoughts, flapped his wings, and ascended, the storm swirling behind him like a tide.
—Dividing line—
By the time Skala returned to his dwelling, it was fully daylight.
He did not spend much time preparing, taking only two people with him.
Toka, a young hunter, once injured by a Proto-Dragon, became taciturn after his recovery, but his eyes were firmer than those of his peers.
Gollon, an old soldier, his left arm also fully recovered, wielded a two-handed axe with great skill.
He had sought out Skala on his own initiative, saying nothing of faith, only "I owe you a life."
"Just the two of them," Skala decided.
The two nodded silently, shouldered their packs, and took up their weapons, as if they had long been ready.
Tok-Aak did not sound a horn for their departure, nor did they bid them farewell.
The three walked side by side, passing through bone pillars, old totems, and silent lookout points, embarking on a journey in the name of God.