Not long after Dot left, Ethan watched the others begin setting up their tents. Uncle Jed ca over, carrying a thick blanket.
"Here, take this. It gets very cold at night!"
Ethan could already feel the temperature dropping. Just half an hour ago, the last rays of sunlight had disappeared beyond the dunes. Now his breath was a faint mist in the air. He accepted the blanket gratefully.
Uncle Jed then held out sothing else—a scorpion shell, cracked open to reveal steaming, tender white at. The aroma drifted up, rich and enticing.
"The claw is the best part of a Deathstalker Scorpion. I got you a piece," Uncle Jed said, sitting down beside him.
Ethan’s stomach rumbled in response. He’d been curious about the taste all day. Without hesitation, he tore off a chunk and took a bite. The flavor was incredible—rich, delicate, far better than any lobster he’d eaten back on Earth. For a mont, he thought that maybe these people’s lives weren’t as harsh as they seed. At the very least, the food was magnificent.
After another bite, Ethan produced a small dish out of thin air. He squeezed so horseradish into it, added a splash of seafood soy sauce, and stirred them together. Then he dipped a piece of scorpion at, lifted it to his mouth, and closed his eyes as the fresh, savory taste exploded across his tongue.
Uncle Jed watched him, puzzled. After a mont, curiosity won out. He tore off his own chunk of at and, imitating Ethan, plunged it straight into the horseradish mixture. Ethan noticed and almost laughed, but he managed to keep a straight face.
The next second, Uncle Jed popped the horseradish-drenched scorpion into his mouth.
His reaction was imdiate. He lurched to his feet, eyes bulging, hands flailing. Ethan scrambled up as well, clapping a hand over Uncle Jed’s mouth—just as Uncle Jed had once done to him.
It took a full minute before Uncle Jed managed to choke down the mouthful. His face turned beet red, and tears stread from his eyes. Even with all his strength and desert-hard endurance, the blast of horseradish had left him reeling and powerless. That was the only reason Ethan had been able to keep him from thrashing free.
Ethan finally let go, retreating a few steps. He couldn’t help laughing as he returned to his seat and calmly continued eating.
Uncle Jed sucked in a few ragged breaths. He looked ready to explode. But before he could start shouting, Ethan tossed him a small green bottle. Ethan himself raised an identical bottle and took a long swig.
"We’re even now," he said lightly.
Uncle Jed paused, then let out a short laugh. "You rascal... you really do hold a grudge."
He sniffed the bottle’s opening. A malty aroma drifted out. He tested a cautious sip—then his eyes went wide. Without another word, he tilted the bottle back and drank every drop.
"Refreshing... hah!" He wiped his mouth and clapped Ethan on the shoulder, his grin returning.
Ethan smiled. "Ice-cold beer. Hard to beat."
"Beer?"
"Nothing important. Just good to drink."
He raised his bottle in a toast. Uncle Jed hesitated, then nodded and drained the last of his "beer." He set the bottle aside, patted Ethan’s shoulder again, and walked toward the fence gate. Soone tossed him a sharpened wooden stake, which he caught easily before leading a group of n out beyond the palisade.
Ethan assud they were heading out on patrol. He stayed where he was, the warmth of the al and the beer seeping through him. Before long, a heavy drowsiness settled over his limbs. He wrapped himself in the blanket, leaned back against a pile of hemp ropes, and closed his eyes—though he only pretended to sleep.
A while later, he felt movent nearby. He cracked one eyelid, just enough to see. Tribe Leader Butcher was approaching with several n. They halted when they spotted him resting.
The old man glanced at the younger man beside him—Junior—and gave a subtle nod.
Junior understood at once. He started forward, stopping a couple of ters from Ethan. He looked back for confirmation.
Tribe Leader Butcher gave another nod.
Junior stepped closer, then crouched beside Ethan and gave him a tentative pat on the shoulder.
"Brother... wake up."
Ethan tensed, ready to spring. His instincts told him this might be the mont to fight. But there was no hostility in Junior’s voice or movents. He hesitated. ’Did I misjudge?’
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Junior let out a relieved breath. "Brother, our Tribe Leader knows you stopped the scorpion swarm. You saved us. He ca to thank you."
He moved aside, revealing Tribe Leader Butcher stepping forward. Ethan stood up to greet him.
"Tribe Leader, you’re too kind," Ethan said.
The old man chuckled, voice raspy. "Heh heh... Lad, you have great strength. In my life, I’ve always respected n like you."
He gestured for a nearby tribesman, who handed him a clay bowl filled with clear liquid.
"To show our gratitude," Butcher said, "please, drink this heavenly water"
Ethan looked at the "heavenly water." He knew it was dew they’d collected in the night with their clever triangular tents—a slow process that yielded little water. He studied the bowl with a skeptical look. What were they scheming? Did they take ho for so fool?
But he didn’t say anything. He reached for the bowl, curious how far they’d go.
[Ding... System Notification: Detected low-level toxic substance. May cause weakness, unconsciousness.]
At the system’s warning, a cold light flickered in Ethan’s eyes. He raised the bowl to his lips and tipped it all back in one swallow.
Tribe Leader Butcher and his n smiled in unison. Hidden behind the bowl, Ethan allowed himself a small, mocking smile.
’If you want to play, I’ll play along.’
At the sa ti, he discreetly summoned a tiny erald vial from his system inventory, letting it slide into the bowl with the "heavenly water." He swallowed everything.
Since he’d arrived here, elents from Ethereal had rged with reality—just another reason he struggled to tell the two worlds apart.
[Ding... System Notification: You have been poisoned!]
[Ding... System Notification: Low-level antidote potion activated. Poison neutralized!]
The mont he lowered the empty bowl, Ethan staggered dramatically. He let the bowl slip from his fingers and crash to the ground.
"You..." he gasped, pointing weakly at Tribe Leader Butcher, before slumping face-first onto the sand.
"Quick, tie him up and carry him away," Butcher barked.
Several n rushed forward. They bound Ethan’s arms behind his back and hauled him into a tent. Junior followed, crouching to rifle through Ethan’s belongings. He searched every pocket and fold of Ethan’s clothes. A few tis, he touched a spot that nearly made Ethan flinch, but he kept still.
Finally, Junior stood up, shaking his head. "Tribe Leader, there’s nothing."
Butcher’s brow furrowed. "Hmm... Then your guess about him having a spatial item must be right."
He folded his arms, voice low and urgent. "Wake him up. If our tribe gains a spatial device, we’ll never need to beg for shelter again. We must take it from him tonight."
Ethan heard every word. So that’s what they were after—not just his water, but his storage device.
’Too bad,’ he thought calmly. ’My spatial device is in my mind.’
Junior nodded at the order. Then, without warning, he started unbuckling his pants.
Ethan’s heart lurched. ’What is this idiot doing?’
The answer dawned on him a heartbeat later.
’Damn it... is this guy planning to piss on my face?.’
As Junior pulled himself free, Ethan’s patience ran out. He tensed his bound arms.
Snap!
The hemp rope gave way.
Thud!
A muffled groan sounded outside the tent flap.
In the sa instant, a shadow streaked past. A figure appeared beside Junior and kicked him flying.
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