The Game of his Destiny

Chapter 13 : Seeds of Survival

Chapter 13

​After we finished eating, I walked the young Musangs—Ava, Ana, and Aya—back to the church. The evening air was cooling, and the streets were quieter now. When we arrived, they showed us the small storage room the nun had let them use. It was a cramped space, smelling of dust and mildew, filled with broken furniture and old crates. They had cleared a single corner to sleep in, huddled together on the hard floor.

​"They really can’t stay here," I muttered, looking at the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. "The place is filthy and far too small."

​Ora floated beside me, her expression unreadable. She noted that staying there would eventually make them targets, especially as they got older. Musangs were naturally strong and agile, born with the instincts of hunters. People would undoubtedly try to capture them for slavery, just as they had with Lavender. The only reason they were still free was that they weren't yet "of age" to be considered profitable labor.

​"What do you think is the best way to help them?" I asked Ora, my voice low so the children wouldn't hear.

​"Why are you asking me?" Ora replied crossly, crossing her arms. "Wasn't it your idea to help them in the first place?"

​Lavender spoke up, suggesting that the children needed work so they could earn money for their daily expenses. I nodded, but I knew their situation was difficult. They were only about nine years old; no one in town would hire them for a proper job. Without a source of income, they would eventually be tempted to steal just to eat.

​Ora suggested they utilize their natural Musang instincts and hunt. In her eyes, it was the only viable way for them to make money. I hesitated, thinking of the dark treeline at the edge of town. I grew up around the woods, and I knew they weren't just full of small game—there were massive monsters and wild wolves roaming the shadows.

​However, Ora argued that while it was dangerous, it was their only path to independence. It was better for them to gain combat experience now so they could defend themselves later. She reminded me that even "safe" jobs in town wouldn't protect them from mistreatment, especially as young girls.

​"You’re right," I conceded, looking at their small, hopeful faces. "They need someone to train them to fight so they can protect themselves."

​Ora immediately cut me off. "You cannot stay here indefinitely to train them and wait for them to get strong. You cannot abandon the mission for their sake, Aren. Think carefully about your decisions."

​She sighed, noting that as a spirit, she saw no strategic benefit in helping these children. But seeing my resolve, she gave me an ultimatum: one week.

​"Teach them how to hunt for one week. After that, you'd better just find and pay a tutor in town to continue their combat training." She mentioned seeing adventurers at the local tavern; surely one of them could be hired for the right price.

​I wasn't sure I could trust a stranger with their well-being, but Ora’s plan was the only realistic one. I reached out and patted the children’s heads. "Did you hear that? Would you like us to teach you how to hunt so you can earn a living once we leave?"

​Lavender knelt beside them, explaining that they must seize this opportunity. Life on the streets is harsh, and they needed these skills to survive. "It's rare to find someone like Master Aren who would help people like us," she added softly. "Accept this gift."

​The children didn't hesitate. They crowded around me, clinging to my arms and my tunic. "Thank you so much, Master Aren!"

​I scratched my head, feeling a bit embarrassed by the sudden affection. I warned them that the training would be difficult and pointed out that they didn't need to call me "Master."

​"But you are Big Sister Lavender’s Master," one replied, her eyes wide. "That means you are our Master too."

​"From now on, you are our leader. We will follow whatever you command to the best of our ability."

​I was taken aback and tried to disagree, explaining that Lavender wasn't my subordinate and was free to do as she pleased. But Lavender touched my arm, her hand steady. She told me to just let them view me as their leader. She explained that for Musangs, it was natural to follow a pack leader, and she feared they might fall under the sway of someone cruel if I didn't step into the role.

​Looking into Lavender’s eyes, I could see how much she wanted me to agree.

​"Alright," I said. "From now on, I’ll be your Master. You will follow everything I instruct and teach you. Is that clear?"

​The children cheered and hugged me. A strange sense of fulfillment washed over me—a feeling of warmth I hadn't felt in a long time. Perhaps it was because, for once, I was doing something meaningful, and I could feel the sincerity of their gratitude.

​We didn't linger at the church. I brought the three children back to the inn where we were staying. I managed to get a room with two beds; the children huddled together on one mattress next to Lavender and fell asleep almost instantly. Tomorrow, their training would begin.

​The room was expensive, and I knew I had to find a way to earn more money since our stay here would be costly. I decided I would hunt as well and find buyers for the meat and pelts.

​As I sat by the window, Ora reminded me that I shouldn't neglect my own training. She insisted my combat experience was still lacking and that I should prioritize my own growth. I didn't argue; I accepted her criticism but asked her to try and be kinder to Lavender.

​"You make it sound like I’m cruel to her," Ora muttered, hovering near the ceiling. "I’m not doing anything wrong. But on another note... what is your plan for her? Let me remind you: you don't belong to this era. We returned to the past for a mission, and our presence here is not permanent."

​She explained that we would eventually return to our original time—a hundred years into the future. She couldn't leave the Time Sword in this era, and since I was its wielder, I had to go back with it. She was blunt: she couldn't take anyone else with us. She warned me against forming deep emotional bonds.

​I knew she was right. I hadn't forgotten why I was here. I assured her my resolve remained unchanged.

​"Good. We understand each other," she said. "I know you feel sorry for that Musang, and you enjoy the attention she gives you. That's a normal human reaction. But you must know your limits."

​I nodded with a smile, but a seed of doubt remained in my chest. It felt unfair, but I had no right to complain. I had made a deal to complete the mission and return home.

​Perhaps Ora was right—I did enjoy Lavender's attention. Back in my old life, I lived in a place where no one cared for their neighbor. You couldn't afford to be kind because giving something away meant you'd have nothing for yourself.

​The following days were a blur of activity. I bought knives and basic hunting gear for the children. On the first day, I tested their natural abilities: running through the underbrush, lifting heavy stones, and climbing the thick oaks at the forest's edge. At first, they struggled like ordinary children, their breath coming in ragged gasps. They seemed far too weak for the wild.

​After a few hours, Lavender and I swapped roles. She had her own training to master her Celestial Item, so we agreed to take turns watching the kids every three hours.

​During my breaks, I focused on my own limits. My energy capacity was small, and I needed to expand it to use the Time Sword effectively. I practiced throwing the blade at a distant tree and using the Rewind spell to call it back to my hand, trying to perfect the timing. Often, when the sword returned, the gash it left on the bark would vanish—I wasn't sure if that was accidental or a mechanic I needed to master.

​As the days passed, the children improved rapidly. Their Musang instincts began to surface. They ran with more grace and climbed trees without stopping to catch their breath. Lavender was a huge help, constantly whispering encouragement in their ears.

​On the third day, we entered the deeper woods to catch small game like rabbits and wild boars. The children were fast enough now to keep pace with the animals.

​"Good job," I told them as they gathered around a fallen boar. "Remember, you are stronger when you work together. It doesn't matter if the prey is big or small; help each other. Ava, you’re the oldest, so you need to be the strategist. You lead the planning. Ana, Aya, follow Ava’s lead in a fight, but don't be afraid to share your ideas."

​I taught them that communication and strategy were the keys to staying alive. I also emphasized that there is no shame in running away. I pointed out a bear clawing at a tree in the distance and told them if they couldn't kill it, they should just climb and wait.

​"You aren't hunting just to die to some bear," I lectured. "There will always be another chance to catch something as long as you stay alive. You hunt to eat and survive."

​Afterward, we took the catch to a slaughterhouse in town to sell. We had to register and pay for paperwork, especially since they lacked identification. I tried to register them at the Adventurers' Guild, but the clerk shook his head; they were too young. The minimum age was thirteen.

​"Looks like you have four more years before you can be adventurers," I said as we left the guild hall. "For now, focus on the hunt."

​As the week progressed, we ventured further for fiercer prey. I showed them how to set hidden traps for wolves. I taught them that they couldn't always rely on raw strength—they needed tools. I gave them the coins from the meat sales and taught them how to budget for food and gear. I even stressed the importance of reading and writing so they wouldn't be cheated by merchants.

​By the end of the week, the change was undeniable. They moved with focus, their eyes alert to every snap of a twig. They no longer hesitated during a hunt. Lavender had also shared the traditional Musang techniques she remembered from her own youth.

​I felt a quiet pride watching them. I knew these skills would keep them fed. As they grew stronger, I felt less afraid of the day I would eventually have to leave them behind.