By the seventh month, the tribes' once fragile peace had crumbled. Tensions rose, and blood began to spill. It was inevitable many of the Jackrixis still had something to prove.
Some people were kidnapped and killed bodies fed to wild animals or returned to their kin, dumped near the tribe's borders. Children were kept indoors, safe from the risk of being taken as slaves or used for cruel hunting practice.
The heart of the problem lay in the clash of cultures and beliefs the skills Jack had chosen for his people reduced some of the bloodshed, but they couldn't erase it. Each tribe was determined to prove itself the "correct" one. Some sought only to live in peace, while others hungered for power, aiming to dominate all others.
Religion deepened the divide. Which gods were most worthy of worship? Was it righteous to kill those who prayed to different gods?
Civilisation, Jack realised, brought its own dangers internal strife and higher casualties. Monster-born tribes might lose many, but for those building a society, a single battle could claim thousands.
Jack would never forget the events that unfolded between the two tribes by the water. Both worshipped the gods, but their views on how to do so and which gods were most important were at odds. Arguments escalated into factional disputes within each tribe, with some members defecting to the rival faith.
Eventually, this sparked the first of many holy wars. Brothers and sisters turned on each other, slaughtering and preying upon their own.
It began with guerrilla attacks and ambushes on anyone who strayed beyond the safety of their home tribe. Now, on this day, a group of five Jackrixis pursued an enemy party that had assaulted and murdered one of their kin.
They caught up quickly. The attackers were wounded, their movements sluggish from blood loss. Both groups emerged from the forest and stepped onto the beach, sea air heavy between them, each side eyeing the other, waiting for someone to make the first move.
Two of the Jackrixis locked eyes, recognising each other instantly brothers who both knew one of them would die here, marked forever as a heretic to the gods. But even amid such hatred, they clung to pride. They signalled for a one-on-one fight, and both groups agreed, stepping back to give them space.
The brothers touched their fists to each other's chests, a final gesture of respect.
They stared in tense silence until the elder roared and charged. The younger met him halfway, both gaining speed. The younger leapt, striking his brother in the mouth, snapping his head to the side but not dropping him.
Blood dripped onto the sand as the elder spat, then lunged forward, driving his forehead into his sibling's face. The younger fell, and they both hit the ground, trading punches and kicks with brutal force.
The watching warriors soon joined in, equal numbers clashing. Blood and sweat stained the beach as bodies collapsed and were dragged down. Some fighters used their claws, others brute force, or tripping techniques to bring their foes low.
The midday sun beat down. With the sea at their backs, escape was impossible and none wanted it. Victory here would prove who was right, who was wrong, and who would control the land.
Back with the brothers, the younger kicked the elder in the chest, knocking him over. He charged, fist drawn back for another blow, but the elder caught it mid-strike. Before the younger could pull away, the elder yanked him down and smashed his fist into his skull.
Mounting his sibling, the elder pounded blow after blow into the back of his head until the bone cracked like a melon rind. The rage drained, leaving only the sight of his brother's lifeless body and tears.
Looking around, the elder saw just two of his tribe still standing. The beach was littered with corpses, sand darkened by blood.
He knelt by his brother, grief heavy, and dug a grave in the sand with his bare hands the same hands that had killed him. He laid the body to rest, staring at the mound before calling for his warriors to bury their own and cast the enemy dead into the sea.
The elder walked back toward the tribe, sadness weighing him down. His faith was all that gave him strength, even though part of him believed this fight had never been necessary. That night, alone, he prayed for his brother in the darkness.
Seven months into their existence, the Jackrixis tribes had changed in ways even Jack hadn't expected. What had begun as scattered, groups had grown into structured societies though each in its own way.
Some tribes valued harmony, working together for the good of all. Others thrived on conquest, seeing domination as the only path to strength. And then there were those who walked the middle ground, willing to trade but quick to bare claws if wronged.
Jack's early gifts enhanced skills, improved tools, and knowledge had made survival easier, but they had also accelerated the pace of conflict. In a world where resources were finite and pride was bound to faith, tension was inevitable.
Religion was no longer just a part of daily life; it defined entire communities. For some, the gods were guides and protectors. For others, they were sources of power to be invoked and wielded against enemies. Disputes over which gods to honour most fiercely had already torn apart friendships and families.
Despite the growing bloodshed, there were signs of progress. Tribes built stronger homes, developed more effective hunting techniques, and began trading goods over longer distances. Simple barter routes became the first threads of diplomacy fragile, but real.
Leaders emerged, some chosen for wisdom, others for strength. New customs took root: seasonal festivals, rites of passage, and the beginnings of law. Jack saw in them the seeds of something greater, even if the soil was stained with blood.
Yet the holy wars had left deep scars. The beach where brothers had fought to the death was now a place of whispered stories, a reminder of the price of pride. Tribes still eyed each other with suspicion, wary of the next spark that might ignite another conflict.
Jack knew there was no going back. The Jackrixis were no longer just surviving they were building a future. But whether that future would be one of unity or endless war was still uncertain.