Jonaka was drinking again. He knew it was bad. He knew he should just snap out of it. The house was a mess. He was sitting in the dark at an unwashed table. His swimming skill had even dropped a level. On some level that hurt, but he was numb. It had been a month since anyone had heard anything from Ramona and Luka. Was it even possible they were alive?

He wanted to believe. Even if no one else did. Ramona had been an excellent Jungler. She was so smart and skilled, that it was hard to believe she could get hurt. And Luka… Well, that boy sure was special. 

But special enough to survive in the jungle? He was still just a child, no matter how gifted. What if they had run into the Silverback? They were going towards the ruins, so it was entirely possible. Jonaka knew his wife would throw away her life to protect their son. He knew, because he would do it too. But if she had died how could Luka ever survive and get back home…

Jonaka slammed the table and gritted his teeth as he cried.

The search parties had found traces of them walking towards the ruins. They had even seen the Silverback prowling around the area. But no signs of his family. Good or bad.

“They… they could be alive, right?” he asked the empty dark room. “Rapids take me… talking to myself…”

Then he heard a loud bang on the door. Reluctantly he got up and opened it. Marek was standing with his arms crossed. Other villagers, such as the elder and some of his fishing buddies were also standing back. He appreciated their concern, but couldn’t they just leave him alone?

Jonaka threw Marek a glare. “What do you want?”

“For you to stop moping and get back to your work like a man,” Marek said. “The village needs you.”

“I filled my quota twice over last time.”

“The Moon Festival approaches. We need more for the feast.”

“To the rapids with your feast!” Jonaka snarled and tried to slam the door shut. Marek braced himself against it and stared Jonaka down.

“You must love seeing me like this,” Jonaka growled.

Marek grunted. “I’ve looked down on you my whole life. This is just a new low.”

“My family is dead, you bastard.”

“I pity you for it.”

“Rapids with your pity.”

Marek stared Jonaka down with an impassive face. “Once your son schemed that potion supply for you, I felt truly challenged for the first time in my life by you.”

“I’ve always been better than you.”

Marek laughed. “Right now you are shit. You are not even the second best. I bet you’ve lost a level during your pity party.”

Jonaka gritted his teeth. 

“Get your shit together until the festival. If you still want to cry in a corner after that, be my guest. The new generation will pick up your slack, and you can waste away and drink here.”

Jonaka didn’t look at Marek. “Go away.”

Marek turned to go. “It was stupid to let your wife and child wander off into the jungle. I would have never let my family do that. A man should protect and take care of his family.”

Jonaka felt a surge of anger and disgust in his stomach.

Even when he was down, Marek wanted to hurt him.

He had always hated Marek. Their lifelong rivalry could have been a brotherly one. But Marek had always been an asshole. He had made them enemies. And Jonaka was about done with that.

He should have just closed the door and gone back to his drink. But he didn’t. 

Jonaka knew it was stupid. He charged and pushed Marek. The large man stumbled, but quickly pivoted and assumed a wrestling position.

“Sneaky,” Marek said, but there was a self-satisfied grin on his face. “Just like your son.”

“Stop it right now,” Elder Piraka called, but neither of them listened. They had been coiling for this for weeks.

“You are truly the lowest of the low,” Jonaka said as they started circling each other. “Egging me on while I grieve to improve your status.”

“I believe it was your son who said to mine that winning is winning. I wonder where he learned that?”

Jonaka feinted, and slammed himself into Marek who pivoted and tried to grab Jonaka’s arm. Jonaka slipped away and tried to topple Marek over his leg.

They writhed like angry eels in the sand. Marek was larger, stronger, and had always had an advantage in Wrestling. Jonaka’s advantage was Swimming. Marek was slower in the water. 

Jonaka was fighting on his rival’s turf. But he didn’t care. He pushed all of his grief and anger into the wrestling. But then Marek used the Class Ability that made him such a fearsome wrestler. Even though they both had the Fisher class, Marek had a lot of Abilities and Perks towards fighting others.

Jonaka felt the Steel Grip clamp around his wrist like a vice. He gasped and lost his footing. Then Marek used Power Surge and was slammed on his back. Immediately Marek pushed a knee on his belly and grabbed his throat.

“You are weak,” Marek said. “You are just a sorry drunk who can’t compete without tonics and tricks.”

Jonaka coughed under the hand pinning his throat down.

“That’s enough, Marek!” One of the Fishers said.

“I say what is enough!” Marek snarled.

Jonaka felt he was losing consciousness, but then something strange happened.

Magic.

A thick stream of water slammed into Marek and he was violently thrown back.

Jonaka got up and rubbed his throat. Then he heard a voice he recognized and he broke out crying.

“That is the last time you will ever touch my father,” Luka said.

*

Elder Piraka couldn’t believe his eyes. He had thought he had lost a promising apprentice in Luka. He had regretted ever mentioning the ruins of the ancestors to the young boy and filling his head with fables. He should have been more careful in guiding the boy’s future. That boy was not a generational talent— he was a historical talent. Whatever folly had persuaded Luka and Ramona to seek the ruins had gotten them killed, which had also ruined Jonaka. He blamed himself for all of this. He should have been wiser. He was the elder, for spirits’ sake. He should have stopped the boy.

Or so he had thought.

His heart jumped with delight when he saw Ramona walk up a path. People forming a ring around the wrestle gave way almost instinctively.

Piraka tore his eyes from the wrestling match. Now he looked at the boy in his mother’s arms. It was a ridiculous sight. The dark haired toddler was clutching to his mother with one arm, but had one hand extended and aiming at Marek with a fierce look in his eyes. Elder Piraka’s Mana Sense was fixated on Luka. His eyes widened with shock. Something was gathering in the toddler’s hand. Something large.

That is impossible…

A powerful jet of water shot from the toddler’s open palm and it struck Marek so hard he was thrown back into the sand.

Piraka’s eyes went wide with shock. How was that possible?!

“That is the last time you will ever touch my father,” Luka said.

The child said it with such a cold calm that it sent chills down Elder Piraka’s spine. This was not the way a toddler spoke. It was said in a manner that stated the fact, such as the waves were high today. There was no threat, nor was there negotiation. This was imperious.

What happened in the ruins?

It had to be the ruins, Piraka knew. Somehow this child had managed to pass through the first sanctum. The challenge was not hard to understand. The last page of the spellbook inside the ruins contained a complicated spell to open the door. But generation after generation of Shamans from three villages had all failed to advance past the first sanctum.

How had this boy surpassed them all?

“Ramona! Luka!” Jonaka cried out. “You—You…”

“Come here,” Ramona said with a gentle smile.

Jonaka rushed to his family and embraced them.

“I’m sorry,” Luka said. “It took longer than I thought.”

“My boy,” Jonaka sobbed openly. “My baby boy. It is okay. Everything is okay. You are alive.”

Elder Piraka smiled happily at the sight. Everyone did. Well, except Marek. Piraka didn’t need his Diplomatics Skill to know the prideful Fisher was absolutely livid. But also confused. 

He had been blasted with an attack completely beyond him. Besides, what was he to do? Attack a toddler in front of half the village? Marek was aggressive and proud, but not entirely without wits.

Piraka returned his attention to Luka and his family. This boy…

If Luka had truly surpassed him, he didn’t know where that left him either. He had a pride of his own, but ultimately Piraka wanted the good of the village. But what did Luka want? Did he want to take his place as the Shaman? Piraka would of course teach his Class to this prodigy if he so desired. But one thing was certain. The Moon Festival was near. Luka would surely win. Would he then join the Silver Sea Tournament? He would be the youngest contestant in the history of the archipelago. It was ridiculous! But the boy had just thrown around the strongest person in the village like it was nothing. A Classed adult.

The boy could be the king of this island if he so wished. Would he claim power? He was a good boy, but mischievous and rather cold towards his enemies.

Elder Piraka chuckled to himself and relaxed. Yes, the child threatened the very hierarchy of the otherwise stable village. But he had spent enough time with the boy to know he was earnest and not tyrannical. Whether Luka wanted to become the village’s Shaman or something else entirely, it remained to be seen. He was still young. 

He enjoyed the sight of everyone gathering around Jonaka’s family and asking excited questions. The villagers were simple, but friendly. As an Elder, Piraka had to keep his dignity of course. He was happy to give the family space. He nodded sagely and smiled at the little spectacle.

Then Ramona took out a shining silver pelt that could have had only one owner.

Elder Piraka rushed towards the family like a young boy and pushed people aside. “Is that from the Silverback!?”