Echoes of the Abyssal Blade: Path to Free Will-Chapter 81: Learning the Native’s Language

Jonan was sitting inside a certain rock cottage, and he was also served food that looked like fruits and vegetables he had never seen.

They were all slightly roasted, and he had no problem eating them. In fact, he had even found them different but delightful in taste.

"I have never had roasted fruits in my home, so they roast their food. thankfully, the natives here are civilized enough not to be barbaric, as I had heard one of the elders telling me how he was thrown into a pot to be cooked."

Changing his thoughts, he focused on eating, he didn’t bother to think much about, considering his stomach was hollow, from walking all the way from the shore he was, to here.

After eating his fill, Jonan sat aside, and he was looking to wash his hands, but nowhere in the Rock Cottage, he found any utensil which would have water stored in it.

He wanted to wash his hands and also drink some water, but after not finding water for some time, he could only ask the guard outside.

Getting outside, he could see one guard, who was also tall, but he was far more muscular than the Native Hunter who guided him here.

Jonan couldn’t talk with him, due to the language barriers, he could only look at the man, who seemed to be wary of him.

Jonan then started to show motions of drinking to the man by holding his fist in a cup-like position, and swallowing it in his mouth.

The man seemed to be lost in thought, showed him inside, asking him to go back, and he made signs which assured that Jonan would get what he wanted.

Jonan was joyful about the fact that the guard was able to understand him, albeit with a bit of difficulty.

Soon, after some time, the guard came inside and he held an earthenware jar, which he then carefully placed on a table, after which he took out an earthenware cup, and filled the liquid inside the cup, and offered it to Jonan.

Jonan thanked him, and as soon as Jonan sipped the liquid, without much thought, his throat choked, and he started coughing rapidly.

"Damn, are the natives here crazy, giving wine to someone who is too young to drink, and what the hell is with this wine, this is too harsh and bitter sweet, I asked for water, and they give me wine, ughh."

Jonan sat downcast, he was upset that he couldn’t convey his words to the natives here clearly.

Meanwhile, the Guard looked pleased with himself. He then bowed a bit and left the rock cottage to stand at his post outside the rock cottage.

Jonan was thirsty and wanted to drink water badly, but he did not bring water with him; he felt it would not be of much use to him, but now he could not even ask for water, for now he could only close his eyes, and rest.

Jonan rested on the hard surface, his eyes were closed, but his mind was restless, it was lingering on the bitterness of the wine.

The stillness of the rock cottage was disturbed by approaching footsteps, which were slow and deliberate, echoing through the stone walls.

Startled, he opened his eyes, and as the door creaked, he noticed three figures entering, there were two young men and a teenage girl, all of them looked to be carrying something.

For a split second, Jonan was tensed; he was unsure if it was another misunderstanding or a hostile intrusion.

But as they stepped closer, he noticed the absence of weapons; instead, each of them bore stone slabs, etched with strange markings.

The girl placed one slab down gently, and the two boys followed, arranging them before Jonan in an orderly way.

The girl pointed at the slab and spoke a word, slow and clear, tapping the markings as she repeated it.

Jonan, who understood their meaning, they wanted to teach him their language, and he was also eager to communicate, so he started mimicking her sounds, stumbling at first, but trying his best to get it right.

One of the boys, slightly taller and broader than the other, corrected him by repeating the word more firmly.

The smaller boy smiled each time Jonan got close, while the girl’s eyes lit up as he began repeating the sounds correctly.

Jonan’s mind sparked with sudden clarity, his memory sharpened, and the words began to settle in place.

He repeated each word back to them, his pronunciation improving with every attempt, drawing surprised looks from the trio.

The girl excitedly brought forth a second slab, this one carved with figures – humans, animals, and scenes of daily life.

She used gestures and expressions to mix the spoken words with the visual figures, guiding Jonan towards comprehension.

As she pointed to a figure of a hunter, she said a word, then moved to an animal and said another.

Jonan caught the pattern, associating each symbol with sound, and slowly, the native tribe’s language was forming in his mind piece by piece.

Within an hour, he had memorized half the slab’s contents, repeating them clearly, sometimes even correcting himself before they did.

The three exchanged glances, clearly impressed, and Jonan felt a strange pride rise within him.

They left soon after, leaving the slabs behind, perhaps to return and test his progress later.

Jonan sat back, exhausted, but he was exhilarated.

Each day that followed, the three teenagers returned, always with more slabs and, patiently they taught him more.

Sometimes they came together, sometimes one would take the lead, drilling sounds and meanings into Jonan’s ever-receptive mind.

They laughed when he made mistakes, but they were gentle, always repeating the correct form until he got it right.

Jonan, driven by both curiosity and necessity, absorbed every sound, every nuance, until he began speaking freely with them.

Though his speech was broken and childlike, the meanings landed slowly but surely, and the communication between them started to bloom.

By the seventh day, he could hold short conversations, answer questions, and ask his own, haltingly but clearly.

The first thing he asked for, now that he had words, was for water, the word for it, the source of it, anything.

The three tilted their heads, confused, not understanding what he meant, even as he tried to describe it.

He pointed to the empty cup, then mimed drinking again, repeating the sounds for wine and shaking his head.

Alori, the shorter brother, nodded as if understanding and brought him another cup of the bitter liquid.

"No," Jonan said, wincing, "not wine, Water, Clear, No taste."

They blinked, puzzled, then Ayaka, the girl, said something that Jonan understood as "impossible" or "unknown."

He tried asking how they washed themselves – surely they cleaned themselves somehow, if not with water.

They replied with pride, bringing a gourd filled with a thick, glossy liquid that shimmered faintly under light.

It smelled pungent and felt strange between his fingers – more oil than water, dense and burning slightly.

They demonstrated, rubbing it into their arms and legs, showing how the skin darkened slightly but grew glossier, tougher.

Jonan stared in disbelief that they were using oil, or some kind of refining nectar, as a cleansing agent.

He tried a bit, and though it tingled unpleasantly, he noticed how his skin hardened, almost subtly armoring itself.

"Maybe I am wrong, there really is no water here, except for that place, where I landed," he thought, as understanding dawned; "Maybe I should ask them about that later on."

They weren’t backward; they had simply adapted to a world where water didn’t exist, or wasn’t meant for humans.

He recalled a word the old man of the native tribe used – "Dragon’s Tooth Colony."

He could not understand it at first, but now he knew, it was the name of this place where the natives live.

He asked Ayaka the next day, pointing to the elder’s word, and she nodded with a soft reverence.

She told him the story, using both words and drawings, of how the land got its name.

"Long ago, a giant beast, which was part serpent, part mountain, had fallen from the sky."

"It’s flesh turned to mountain, and its other organs were harvested by others and used by others over the years, but one of our ancestors was lucky enough to get a single tooth of the Dragon."

"Using the single dragon tooth, he turned it into our Guardian weapon, to protect our tribe from the purple fog that comes from beyond."

"That is why our colony is called the Dragon’s Tooth, because we have the dragon’s tooth to safeguard us from the purple fog."

"Every colony’s name is based on its guardian weapon."

Jonan listened; he was entirely captivated and, for the first time, he felt a connection to this alien land and its stories.

They showed him symbols for fire, air, the beasts that roamed the lands beyond the forest, each day bringing him new insight.

Jonan was no longer an outsider fumbling in the dark; he was getting to know a part of their knowledge.

Ayaka began to teach him the chants – short verses in their tongue that invoked protection or gratitude.

Alori and Aloka taught him the physical gestures, motions used in rituals or combat training.

Jonan learned that the nectar was sacred, not just a drink but a gift from the land, a remnant of the fallen beasts.

Different nectars came from different roots and creatures, some were to be drunk, others to be applied or burned.

One night, Ayaka gave him a cup of pale-blue nectar, cooler, lighter, and smoother in taste, which he could finally enjoy.

She explained it was a rare variant, harvested under moonlight, and it was safe for drinking, though it was hard to find.

He thanked her in their tongue, and she smiled warmly, repeating his words back to him with pride.