When Daren woke up, he felt comfortable. Too comfortable. He didn't want to leave the bed and sleep some more. Wait, bed? He tried to get up, but pain struck again. His entire body felt weak. Every muscle ached. Even breathing was difficult. His lungs felt as if they had been cut up. He forced himself to sit up and looked around. He was in a hut. One much, much better than his own. It felt sturdier. And it was much more luxurious. Various weapons and beast pelts adorned the walls. Some pelts had even been fashioned into cloaks.
Even though they were only pelts, Daren could feel their strong aura. His body began shaking. He recognised that aura. Not the aura particularly, but the strength of the pelt's owner. His mother had been killed by a beast of the same strength. Cold sweat appeared on his back. The memory of his mother's death resurfaced.
How she had told him to hide in the cupboard. He remembered her panicked face as she tried to coax him that they were playing a game of hide and seek with his father, and he was going to try to find them. He had seen how that beast had killed her. But before he could do anything, the roof had collapsed, burying him under the rubble.
A strong arm on his shoulder brought him out of the memory lane. He saw that a large man had appeared in front of him at some time. He said, "How are you feeling now, child?"
Child. He had called him 'child'. Not wretch. Not Withered Roots. His face held neither the cruelty of the other villagers nor their disdain. Just genuine concern. His eyes welled with tears. No matter how much hardship had forced him to mature, he was still just a six year old child. Receiving care after such a long time, added to the recollection of a traumatising memory, Daren could no longer stop himself. He began bawling his eyes out.
Landor looked at the crying child in front of him. At first, he felt a little awkward. He wasn't sure how to deal with the crying. He was a warrior. He had never dealt with a crying child. Even when his children were alive, he was rarely able to see them. As the Head Warrior, he was always much too busy. After a few silent moments, he just hugged the boy. He felt the boy's small frame. Much smaller than someone his age should have been.
Just then, he felt Daren's small arms tighten around his neck, his crying slowing down. The boy had cried himself back to sleep. Landor didn't move. He just held the boy and let him sleep. He felt a pang of pity and anger. Just how much had the villagers harassed Daren in these two years for him to be so vulnerable in front of the first person who had just shown him some basic decency? After a while, he gently laid Daren back into the bed.
He said, "Daren will be hungry when he wakes up. I should boil some meat for him. The boy is basically just bones. When was the last time he had an actual meal?"
Landor left his hut to light the fire only to hear the villagers gossiping again.
"Why is Landor wasting his time on the wretch?"
"Withered Roots only has Level 2 Innate Essence."
"He should be training Roan instead. What a waste."
"Is this how he repays us for taking him in?"
Landor could have just ignored them, but the crying boy's condition inside the hut had made him very angry. A tattoo on his left chest glowed, and his skin turned to iron. He walked to the gossiping villagers, his aura unrestrained. He asked, "Wanna say that again?"
The villagers staggered upon sensing his aura and left in a hurry. Landor scoffed, and his skin returned to normal. He returned and began cooking. What nobody noticed was that Roan had appeared nearby. There was anger on his young face. He muttered, "What's so good about that cursed boy? Am I not much better than him? Why isn't Landor training me? Why is he focusing so much on… Daren?"
Back at the hut, a few hours passed. Daren woke up once again. He felt exhausted. He heard a deep voice, "You are finally awake."
He looked up and saw the same man. So it wasn't a dream. The man said, "You almost killed yourself back at the village centre."
Daren wanted to reply, but his stomach growled loudly in protest first. The man chuckled and said, "Eat first. We will talk afterwards."
The man disappeared for a moment and came back with a bowl of steaming broth with pieces of boiled meat in it. He said, "Eat slowly. I don't know when you had meat last time. You don't want to upset your stomach."
Daren took the bowl carefully and said, "Thank you… What should I call you?"
Landor said, "You can call me Uncle Landor."
Daren said, "Thank you, Uncle Landor. But why… Are you helping me?"
Landor got angry at the villagers again for a second, and Daren flinched. Landor quickly suppressed his anger and replied, "I don't need any reason to help a child, do I? Now eat."
Daren thanked him once again and dug in. He began crying again. But this time, it was tears of happiness. Just as his sharpened senses had increased the bitterness of the roots, they had also increased the flavour of the broth and the meat. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something so delicious. As soon as the food reached his stomach, he felt streams of heat flowing throughout his body. But this was different from cultivating. It didn't hurt. It comforted instead.
He quickly finished the bowl, and Landor filled it up again without him even asking for it. He looked at the older warrior gratefully before resuming eating. His hunger was finally gone after the second bowl. Landor ruffled his hair and took the bowl from him. He said, "Now, lets talk about your Anima."