A bountiful harvest under the protection of the Heroic Spirit.
With such a haul, this harsh winter will no longer be as unbearable as in the past for the Frost Throat Clan.
The joyous cheers of the clansmen along the road filled the ears.
Looking at the proud members of the hunting team, a trace of envy flickered in Frogon’s eyes, but it soon disappeared deep within his ice-blue gaze.
As the bravest warrior among the young generation of the tribe.
He could have been one of them, if only...
Frogon shook his head vigorously, casting aside his hesitation.
A resolute expression reappeared on his face.
A Winter Wolf following the team caught a familiar scent.
With its tongue out, it trotted over lightly.
Its body brushed against Frogon’s thigh, and its furry head nuzzled his palm.
The rapidly wagging long tail swept up flurries of snow on the ground, the wolf’s eyes, intimidating to demons, squinted in comfort.
In his palm, the cool and smooth feel of the Winter Wolf’s fur was felt.
The sudden action of his most loyal companion caught the attention of the burly man leading the hunting team, who noticed Frogon on the roadside.
After greeting his teammates beside him, he strode over.
Frogon nodded firmly.
In front of him, the warriors who always told stories to the children after the hunt were no longer young.
Their temples seemed to be frosted, all white.
A thick, solid hand landed heavily on Frogon’s shoulder.
"It’s enough to know where you should go."
The words carried no regret, only the solace that the young man had found his path forward.
After some thought, the warrior took out a Mammoth Ivory from his bosom, radiant with a gentle glow, and handed it to Frogon.
"You can come back anytime if you wish."
"The hunting team will always have a place for you."
Clutching the ivory, accompanied by his mother, Frogon arrived at the last stop before leaving the tribe.
The orange flame burned quietly, making only occasional weak crackling sounds when the cold wind blew through.
It had none of the usual firewood seen by the world, merely resting silently on the intricately carved surface of the Ice Rock, exuding a wild aura.
Consuming the ice and cold from the plateau air, as if turning them into fuel for its vibrant blaze.
Behind the flame, in the very center of the altar, stood a completely black totem.
The patterns on its surface were blurred, hard to discern even up close.
Was it some kind of floral design?
Children in the tribe who had not yet reached adulthood were not allowed to approach, and touching it was forbidden.
As they grew older and lost their curiosity, they often no longer paid attention to the patterns on the totem.
Frogon was no different.
Regarding the sacred flame before him, supposedly from ancient times, his only impression was the clan leader’s smiling response to his childhood curiosity:
"This is the treasure of the Frost Throat Clan, as long as there’s a single clansman alive in this world."
"The flame will never extinguish."
Many years had passed since that day.
The clan leader still carried that smiling demeanor, with a face full of wrinkles since Frogon could remember, seemingly unchanged from before.
There might be a few more wrinkles, but he hadn’t noticed.
Numerous thoughts flowed, and under the firelight, his rising and falling emotions gradually calmed.
He was about to embark on a journey.
This elder, who named him at birth, would now represent the entire tribe, giving him a final blessing.
The initially calm flame suddenly roared fiercely, with warm flames intertwined with dazzling light beneath the clouds, guided by the black totem, forming a beam of pale light that enveloped Frogon.
The elder’s lips moved, murmuring an unknown chant, while his fingers emitted a faint ice-blue light.
Trembling, he sketched wild and sacred patterns on the barbarian’s youthful face.
They flickered and vanished.
The ice-blue light seemed to seep into his body, gradually dimming and disappearing.
It was a blessing from the heroic spirit of the tribe.
Frogon slowly rose, bowing respectfully to the elder smiling in front of him, and to the flame and totem further behind.
After today, he would completely leave the tribe to find his path.
Suddenly, there was a commotion from the crowd watching nearby.
Amid the clansmen’s laughs of goodwill,
a girl with long braids, as delicate as a snow rabbit, breathlessly arrived in front of him.