Primitive Man

Chapter 197: Healing

The boats from the village, adorned with various equipment and carrying anxious villagers, sailed out into the open sea. The atmosphere was tense as they scanned the ocean's surface for any sign of Baktou.

The bright sun cast a warm glow on the water, but the tranquillity was shattered by the ominous red tint spreading through the waves which was ominous enough, but the sounds they kept hearing from the bottom of the ocean were enough to even terrify a grown man.

"He's been down there too long. What if he's... gone?" one villager whispered to another, the fear evident in their eyes. "We were supposed to help him a long time ago. Normally, he shouldn't be able to be under the water for this long,"

The villagers gathered on the boats exchanged worried glances, murmuring amongst themselves. The notion of losing their leader, the one who had guided them through countless challenges, sent a shiver through the community.

They knew if Baktou wasn't there, people would start to riot against them and things would end up as a bloodbath for them, who betrayed the main village.

"Damn it! We can't have him dead. If Captain Magi is out once Baktou is gone, our heads would fly because of our actions." Another scared villager muttered worried about his own life and some of the others also nodded.

As the boats continued their search, a collective gasp echoed across the water. Two boats, following a trail of red-stained waves, discovered a figure struggling to reach the surface. The villagers squinted, recognizing the distinct silhouette of Baktou.

"Leader Baktou! He's alive!" someone exclaimed, disbelief mixed with relief in their voice.

Quickly, the villagers manoeuvred their boats closer, tossing out a fishing net to help pull Baktou on board. The ocean around them turned an even deeper shade of red, but the urgency to rescue their leader overpowered the eerie atmosphere.

It took the combined efforts of both boats to haul Baktou up, the fishing net straining under the weight. The unconscious leader lay sprawled on the net, water streaming from his drenched form. Concern etched on their faces, the villagers hurriedly examined him.

"Is he breathing? What happened down there?" one villager questioned, trying to feel for a pulse.

Another villager held a hand to Baktou's mouth, checking for signs of breathing. "He's alive, but we need to get him back to the village. Something's not right."

The decision was unanimous. The two boats set sail back to the village with urgency, leaving the scene of the underwater battle behind. The red-stained water seemed to follow them, a haunting reminder of the perilous encounter Baktou had faced.

Back in the village, the news of Baktou's return spread rapidly. Villagers gathered at the shore, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their leader. As the boats docked, the villagers rushed forward to help bring Baktou ashore.

Some of them were happy with the results and obviously decided to make trouble in the village, but that couldn't stop the faithful warriors of Baktou.

"He's unconscious. We need to get him to the healer," one villager suggested, and the crowd parted to make way for the rescue team.

The villagers carried Baktou through the narrow paths of their village, worry etched on their faces. They couldn't fathom what had transpired beneath the waves, but the red-tinged sea and Baktou's condition spoke of a danger beyond their understanding.

Among all these worried people, the most anxious was Telvi. She hurriedly approached and quickly examined Baktou's body, checking on him. Despite lacking any formal knowledge or training in medicine, she recalled from the little she had learned through Gundo's teachings that pressing on Baktou's chest might be helpful in such a situation, along with providing artificial breath.

"No! No! I won't let anything happen to you. You should be alive, you should be alive, my dear," She kept pushing his chest and giving him artificial breath.

Telvi's hands trembled as she desperately tried to revive Baktou. "Come on, breathe! You can't leave us like this," she whispered, her voice a mix of fear and determination.

After several attempts, Baktou finally sputtered and coughed, gasping for air. His eyes fluttered open, but confusion and disorientation clouded them. Suddenly, his hand shot out, instinctively gripping Telvi's throat. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

"Baktou, it's me! Telvi!" she managed to choke out, her hands clutching at his wrist. The villagers around them gasped, unsure of what to do.

As the realization dawned on Baktou, his grip loosened, and he recoiled in horror. "Telvi, I... I'm so sorry," he stammered, guilt and remorse etched across his face.

Telvi, however, didn't show any resentment. Instead, a gentle smile spread across her face. "It's alright, Baktou. I knew it wasn't you. It was just a reflex. I'm just glad you're back with us," she reassured him, her eyes reflecting unwavering love and understanding.

Baktou, overwhelmed with gratitude and remorse, pulled Telvi into a tight embrace. "Forgive me, Telvi. I never meant to hurt you. I don't know what came over me," he pleaded, his voice filled with genuine remorse.

Telvi hugged him back, the tension melting away. "It's over now. You're safe, and that's all that matters. Let's focus on getting you back to full strength," she replied, her fingers gently tracing his cheek.

The villagers, witnessing this emotional scene, breathed sighs of relief but suddenly they heard screaming noises outside the building and realized something must be happening.

Baktou tried to get up, but Telvi didn't allow him to do so. Instead, she decided to take a peek at what was happening. What she saw next made her whole body go cold, and her legs trembled. In front of her stood her own son, soaked in the blood of villagers, with two small daggers in his hands.

***

The atmosphere outside the Baktou's dwelling had turned chaotic as the crowd erupted into screams and clashes. Villagers who harboured resentment against Baktou had gathered, fueled by rumours and suspicions. They shouted accusations and threats, demanding justice for the perceived harm their enemy had caused.

"Bring him out! Bring that homewrecker,"

"Kill him! We belong to Garnt's village and this our chance to finish that ungrateful traitor right now,"

A group of villagers, fiercely loyal to Baktou, formed a protective barrier around the entrance, attempting to shield Baktou and Telvi from the furious mob. The tension in the air was palpable as the two sides clashed, the conflict escalating with each passing moment.

Just when it seemed like the situation couldn't get any more dire, a figure emerged from the frenzied crowd. A young boy with tousled blond hair, his eyes ablaze with fury, stepped forward. In each hand, he tightly gripped a pair of gleaming daggers, which was gifted to him by Baktou.

"What did you say about my father? How dare you call him a traitor! How dare you try to insult him,"

Toga's eyes blazed with an uncontrollable rage as he confronted the person who dared insult his father. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged forward, his daggers flashing in the sunlight. The air was filled with gasps as the blades sank into the chest of the accuser.

"Now what do you have to say about my father?" Toga snarled, his voice dripping with venom and anger.

The chaotic scene fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the groans of the fallen and the shocked whispers of the onlookers. Toga withdrew his daggers, eyes still ablaze, and turned to face the stunned crowd.

"He's no traitor! He's the bravest man I know, and I won't let anyone tarnish his name!" Toga's words echoed through the air, sending a shiver down the spines of those who had gathered. "Anyone who does insult will have to pay the price,"

Without warning, Toga charged at the next person who dared challenge his father's honour. His movements were swift, and his attacks were precise. The protective barrier of Baktou's loyalists now struggled to contain the fury unleashed by the young boy.

As Toga moved, he displayed an unexpected and deadly proficiency with his daggers. His strikes were calculated, and he effortlessly disarmed those who attempted to stand against him. The crowd, initially fueled by anger, now hesitated as they witnessed the ferocity and skill of this unexpected defender.

The chaos continued, with Toga becoming a whirlwind of blades, slashing through the ranks of the enraged mob. Some tried to fight back, but Toga's determination and skill overwhelmed them. Fear began to spread among the villagers as they realized the severity of the situation.

Toga, relentless in his defence of his father's honour, continued his rampage. The once-chaotic atmosphere now shifted to one of terror and disbelief. The protective barrier around Baktou remained intact, and as Toga ran, his daggers still gleaming, the villagers scattered, some trying to escape the impending storm.

In the aftermath, the atmosphere outside Baktou's dwelling had transformed once again. This time, however, it was filled with a somber silence, broken only by the distant echoes of Toga's exhausted breath who was standing on a mountain of corpses.