Honestly, it had been pure luck that they found him in one piece at all. Or maybe fate. Who knows.
And judging by the memories, that wasn't even the first tragedy, stuff like this was extremely common here in Ossuaria, life here was as worthless as a piece of paper, used and thrown away.
And from deeper memories, he had found even more unsettling fragments... just a year ago, the Osari tribe had been nearly wiped out.
There was a sudden raid by the Vorakh Tribe, a stronger, crueler people from the further north. Like them, they were also a nomadic tribe and when passing through this place, they found their tribe and began to eye their hunting ground which had an abundance of wild animals.
The Vorakh tribesmen were the raiding party, bigger in number, faster in killing. And they also came at night without any warning like shadows… fast, merciless, armed with stone axes and spears.
Which obviously caught them by surprise and soon many of the tribesmen trying to resist the invaders were ruthlessly slaughtered, including his own parents, well, more specifically his father died while protecting the tribe and his mother died while protecting him, the only reason he could survive by now, was because aunt lyra rescued him, without caring about her own life.
The memories of that day echoed in his mind, the air had been filled with screams, blood and fire that day. The disgusting smell of blood, broken parts of bodies, falling men and women running with kids, was still fresh in his memory.
And just when it seemed the Osari would vanish from this world, fate threw in one more absurd twist, cruelly, absurdly, beautifully.
It came in the form of a monster.
Not just any creature with fang and claw … but a massive, prehistoric predator.
The tribes called it Thornmaw... though in truth, it didn't need a name. It was a nightmare that walked on four legs...something huge and wide, like a prehistoric bear fused with a prehistoric lion..
Spiked fur bristled across its neck, shoulders rolling under skin the color of coarse dark sand. Its head looked carved from stone, its jaws lined with bone blades meant for directly ripping the prey.
It suddenly emerged from the forest without sound or any warning. But maybe because of his pride as a predator, reaching near the tribe it didn't even bother to hide and growled loudly to announce his presence.
Hearing the sudden roar, the whole battlefield went silent… One moment there was wanton screaming and fire, and the next… complete silence.
Even the Vorakh raiders froze mid-swing, their blood-soaked weapons hovering in disbelief.
The beast roared one again and then without hesitation started a bloody massacre.
No one knows how and why he came here as it wasn't his habitat, maybe it was drawn by the scent of blood or maybe was just crossing from here.
Anyways, as he attacked, the first one to bear the burnt were those bastards from the Vorakh tribe, as they were on the outermost edge of the tribe and closest to the beast, or maybe they just seem bigger and more delicious.
The memory afterwards was simply chaotic.
Blood, dust, shadows, roars, broken bodies, all impacted his mind.
The creature moved like a building given form, its size too massive to make sense, its speed too fast to comprehend.
Its guttural growl seemed to split the air itself and immediately rendered any thoughts of resistance worthless.
The first man didn't even have time to scream... one moment he was there, the next, half of him was gone, shredded into blood mist.
Another was thrown aside, body snapping against the roots of a fallen tree like a child's toy.
Its claws were half a foot long, partially retractable knives that ripped through bodies like wet parchment.
Every strike broke bone. Every bite removed a life.
Blood sprayed across the land, painting the air in a red haze.
Wherever it went, only blood and broken pieces of bodies remained.
But of course, Vorakh tribe wasn't a paper tiger, having survived in the wild, they also had considerable strength, so, they also fought back, wild and desperate. Because, wilderness had taught them, running away from such a monster was impossible, so why not give it your all for a chance of survival, they hurled spears, shouted war cries, tried to surround the monster.
But in front of that massive beast, their strength was akin to a child trying to fight a lion.
Their strength, their discipline, their fury... all meaningless in front of something that had been born perfect for killing.
The beast tore through them as if the laws of survival simply didn't apply to it.
Limbs scattered.
Faces twisted in terror.
The ground turned slick with blood.
Every breath reeked of iron and smoke.
But as they say, there is strength in numbers; after fighting and running around the whole night, they finally managed to injure the beast enough, it had taken spears through the shoulder, gashes down its flank, an eye clouded by blood.
And yet it didn't retreat. It stared at the survivors, lips curling back to show its blade-lined muzzle, daring anyone to try again.
Of course, no one did.
Seeing this he calmly sat down and without a care in the world started eating, and for a time there were only wet, steady sounds of teeth grinding through what used to be people.
It munched through the broken bodies as if they were nothing more than leftovers. Flesh, bone, skin…it was all the same for him.
After a while, and what felt like an eternity, it finally had its fill, and lifted its head. Blood dripped down its mouth in thick, lazy strands.
It gave one last glance at the tribe and proudly walked away.
The Vorakh tribe had technically managed to survive, if you could call that, but it also cost them a considerable number of sacrifices. Their victory was soaked in blood of their own, and their numbers didn't even amount to a quarter.
As for where the Osari tribe was this whole time? Of course, they ran and hid away without hesitation. This was their home ground, so obviously they had advantage in this regard.
Seeing the beast retreat, they slowly got out their hiding ground. By now the strength of each tribe was almost equal, so in the end, the Vorakh tribe tucked their tails and ran away, of course, not without leaving behind a few more bodies, who were hunted by the Osari tribe.
So yes, The Osari tribe… survived that night, although barely.
But honestly "survived" was a very generous word.
Because almost all able men died that day, leaving behind women and kids.
Since then, the tribe had been fading… fewer men, fewer hunters and fewer chances.
As if the land seemed to have turned its back on them.
That was also the reason, the previous Sol dared to venture into the wild, he wanted to prove himself as a qualified hunter and go hunting.
But of course, he didn't succeed, and dropped dead due to reasons he wasn't clear about yet, as the memories of that time were still missing.
So, what lesson do we learn from here kids? No matter how grim the situation is or how desperate things get, never overestimate your strength. Otherwise, your heroic ending will look exactly like his… tragic, stupid, and forgotten soon.
Anyway, where were we?
Ah, yes.
And now, for some twisted reason, the universe had decided to drop him here.
A guy whose greatest accomplishment involved gooning for 11 hours straight.