Lustful Way to Immortality, From Primitive Boy to Immortal God-Chapter 109: Unnamed

The sun had barely begun to claw its way above the horizon when the heavy, salt-stained silence of the hut was finally broken by the sound of labored breathing and the rustle of straw. For an entire day and night, the interior of the dwelling had been a sanctuary of grief, a dim space where the air was thick with the visceral scent of salt and the rhythmic, guttural sounds of weeping. Nula and Susan had collapsed into each other’s arms, their identities as strong, capable women shattered by the news of their husbands’ demise. Katty, Lara, and the boys had formed a protective circle around them, offering wordless comfort, but the agony was a flood that simply had to run its course.

By the second day, the raw edge of the sorrow had dulled into a heavy, lithic exhaustion. The tears had run dry, leaving behind eyes that were red-rimmed and hollow. However, for Susan, the grief was being rapidly overtaken by a cold, sharpening tension. Unlike Nula, who had two strong sons and a daughter to anchor her, Susan felt the precariousness of her position like a blade against her throat. In their tribe, a widow without a protector was little more than a ghost—a "leftover" woman who would eventually be pushed to the fringes of the community.

Nula, sensing the frantic vibration of Susan’s anxiety, reached out and took her sister-in-law’s hands. Her voice was scratchy from crying, but it held a flicker of her old, authoritative resolve. "Susan, listen to me. I know what is eating at you. You are worried about the winter, about the grain, about who will stand at your door. We will go to Noah’s house. We will tell him everything. He is your blood, your firstborn. I am sure he will understand and bring you under his roof."

Susan offered a weak, trembling nod, but her heart was a stone in her chest. She knew Noah better than Nula did; she knew the coldness that had settled into his bones since he left her hearth. She suspected that to Noah, she was merely a mouth he didn’t want to feed.

"Yes, Mother," Katty added, leaning in to kiss Susan’s weathered cheek. "I will go to Brother and shame him if I must. He will help. And even if he proves himself a coward, I will work twice as hard. Fuyu will help, too. You won’t be cast out."

The Burning Heart of Manu

Out in the fields, the world felt strangely indifferent to their tragedy. The crops still needed tending, the irrigation ditches still needed clearing, and the relentless sun still beat down on their backs. Nula had sent the boys out early, not wanting them to drown in the stagnant air of the hut’s mourning any longer.

Manu worked with a feral, unfocused energy, his movements jerky and violent. The grief for his father had curdled into a hot, transformative rage. He stopped mid-swing, his chest heaving as he looked at Fuyu, who was working with a calm, almost stolid precision.

"Fuyu," Manu barked, his voice cracking with a mixture of passion and pain.

Fuyu straightened his back, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Hmm?"

"Come with me. Now. We are going to the Village Chief’s house," Manu declared, his eyes burning with an atavistic fire. "I want answers. I want to know exactly how a warrior like Rana falls to a few shadows in the woods. My father didn’t just die; he was betrayed. I want to find whoever did this and tear the life from their throats."

Fuyu sighed internally, the cold logic of Vasana whispering in the back of his mind. He knew that going to Marcus Voldarcus would yield nothing but trouble. The Chief had already closed the book on the matter. But looking at Manu’s trembling hands and the raw desperation in his face, Fuyu realized he couldn’t let his brother go alone. Manu’s impulsive nature was a death sentence in a place like the Chief’s courtyard.

"Alright," Fuyu said quietly. "I’ll come. But let me do the talking, Manu. Rage is a poor shield against the Chief’s guards."

The Humiliation at the Gate

The journey to the center of the village was a blur of dust and heat. By the time they reached the large, timber-framed courtyard of Marcus Voldarcus, Manu was vibrating with tension. They were intercepted by two guards, men with thick necks and eyes that held the mercenary indifference of those who had seen too much misery to care about two orphaned boys.

"State your business," the lead guard grunted, his hand resting casually on the pommel of a short sword.

"We wish to speak with the Chief," Fuyu said, stepping forward and keeping his voice level, his expression a mask of lithic calm. "We are the sons of Rana. We seek the truth of the mission’s failure. We wish to understand how the ambush occurred."

The guard let out a dry, hacking laugh. "The truth? The truth is your old man is crow-food. He’s dead, the mission failed, and the Chief has no time for whelps looking for bedtime stories. Now, fuck off. He’s already given you your Kuri; don’t come back looking for more."

The casual dismissal was the final spark for Manu’s internal conflagration. "You piece of shit!" Manu roared, lunging forward. "My father was worth ten of you! You sit here behind your walls while better men rot in the forest! Tell us the truth, or I’ll—"

The guard didn’t let him finish. With a sigh of boredom, he delivered a sharp, stinging slap across Manu’s face, followed by a heavy shove that sent the boy sprawling into the dirt. When Manu tried to rise, his face a mask of humiliated fury, the second guard stepped in, delivering a series of heavy, ringing slaps that left Manu’s cheeks a bright, incandescent red.

"Last warning, boy," the guard sneered. "Next time, I use the flat of my blade."

Fuyu stepped between them, his eyes meeting the guard’s with a sudden, sharp intensity that made the older man blink. He grabbed Manu by the collar, dragging him backward. "We’re leaving," Fuyu said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, subvocal register.

Once they were a safe distance away, Manu turned on Fuyu, his face contorted with shame. "It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t held me back, I would have shown that old man who he was dealing with! You’re a coward, Fuyu!"

Fuyu looked at his brother’s swelling face and felt a pang of pity. "If I hadn’t held you back, Manu, they would have cracked your skull open. Don’t mention this at home. Mother has enough weight on her heart without knowing you were beaten like a stray dog in the streets."

A New Path through the Skin

A week passed, and the initial shroud of mourning finally lifted. The household returned to a semblance of normalcy, but the underlying reality was grim. The Kuri the Chief had provided was a pittance, barely enough to keep them fed for two months. Susan’s situation was particularly dire. Fuyu, seeing her slipping back into a state of quiet depression, sought her out in the shadows of the hut.

"Aunt Susan," he said, taking her hand. "I know what you fear. I know Noah’s heart is cold. But hear me: I promised you before, and I promise you again. If your son will not be your protector, I will. You will never lack for bread or a fire while I draw breath."

The promise, backed by the forbidden intimacy they had shared, acted like a balm on her spirit. She felt a surge of affection for Fuyu that surpassed anything she felt for her own flesh and blood. Meanwhile, Nula’s attempt to visit Noah’s hut was delayed by Susan herself, who seemed to have found a strange, new strength in Fuyu’s presence.

However, Fuyu knew that "strength" and "promises" wouldn’t fill their bellies. The family was sliding toward poverty. Manu could handle the fields, but they needed another source of income. Joining the military was a death sentence Nula wouldn’t permit. As Fuyu sat with the four women one evening, the air thick with the scent of dried herbs and the low hum of the village, he dropped his bombshell.

"I have been thinking," Fuyu began, his eyes scanning the faces of Nula, Susan, Lara, and Katty. "We need more Kuri. The fields are not enough. I want to start a business. I want to offer my services as a massager for the women of this tribe."

The silence that followed was absolute. Nula was the first to break it, her eyes narrowing with a sharp, predatory possessiveness. "What? You want to touch other women? To massage them for coin? Are you mad, Fuyu? You think I would allow my son—a man of Rana’s line—to become a servant to the whims of every bored wife in the village?" 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Mother, it is a service they crave," Fuyu countered, his voice steady. "The men here think it is unmanly, yet the women suffer in silence with aching backs and tired legs. You know the relief I bring you. Why should they not pay for that same relief?"

"Because it is humiliating!" Lara interjected, her face flushed. "Fuyu, we let you touch us because we love you, because we are family. There is an... understanding between us. But to do that for strangers? They will look down on you. They will treat you like a common laborer, or worse."

"They won’t value your kindness," Susan added softly, her heart aching at the thought of Fuyu’s hands—hands that had explored her so thoroughly—touching another woman. "To them, you will just be a tool. We cannot let you humiliate yourself like this just to keep us fed."

Fuyu looked at the four of them—the women who shared his bed and his secrets—realizing that their resistance wasn’t just about his "honor." It was about the monopolization of his touch. They were terrified of sharing the pleasure he provided with the rest of the tribe.