A determined expression appeared on Vanessa's face as she gave a nod. She flashed a signal in the direction of two of the men, and they came forward with their spears prepared.
"You heard him," she said, her tone authoritative. "Let's go."
As Erik was being led out of the hall, he cast a final glance toward Amos. The elderly man sat there in complete silence, his eyes never moving from Erik's back.
Erik could not read his expression, but he could see that he had thoughts racing through his head.
He clung to the belief that the villagers would recognize the value of his suggestion and that they would provide him with the opportunity to demonstrate his worth to them. For the time being, all he could do was wait and wish for the best possible outcome.
Vanessa showed everyone the way out of the building and eventually led them to a rope staircase that would bring them several meters up into the trees.
After that, Erik was led by his guide through the complex network of wooden bridges that linked the treetop dwellings together.
The gloomy twilight cast long shadows over the intricate maze-like structure, illuminating the village with a warm glow.
The echo amplified the ominous feeling already present in the room as his steps reverberated on the planks below.
He couldn't help but be amazed at the intricacy and apparent sturdiness of these people's community buildings among the trees.
The villagers looked at him suspiciously while watching him from their huts as the light faded.
Their expressions reflected a mixture of curiosity and mistrust. As Erik was being led toward his upcoming confinement, he could feel their gazes upon him. He maintained a confident demeanor and responded to their looks with a resolve that baffled them.
After some time, Erik and his captors made it to a shack located on the edge of the village, which was relatively secluded.
The young man's expression changed from concern to amusement as soon as he caught a glimpse of the detention facility. His brow furrowed in surprise. It was an old and run-down building, which stood in stark contrast to the relatively well-kept homes that were found in the village.
The building was little more than a crude shack made of wood that hung precariously among the branches of the surrounding trees. It was tenuously connected to the other structures in the area employing swaying rope bridges.
The clearly once vibrant color of the wood had been dulled to a grayish-brown as it appeared to have been weathered by the sun and the elements as it had been exposed to them for years.
The wooden planks were held together with crude nails, and patches of green moss and lichen were tenaciously clinging to them. These organisms thrived in the damp conditions of the surrounding environment.
Since the wood had deteriorated over the years, certain sections of the building gave the impression that they were only just about to hold together; the years of neglect were evident in the worn and splintered boards too.
The fact that the shack's door, which was equipped with rusty iron hinges, hung crooked was evidence of the countless times it had been used to imprison people who had broken the village's rules, and that attempted to escape the place.
A simple lock that was more of a symbol than a functional component served as its security. It was evident that the effectiveness of the prison depended more on the vigilant guards than on the physical construct of the prison.
The eerie stillness that pervaded the area was a somber reminder of the function that was supposed to be served by it. Despite how pitiful it appeared, there was an understated gravity, a solemnity born of its function and history.
With all of its quaint simplicity, the prison appeared to be less of a product of deliberate design and more of a reflection of the need to survive than anything else.
It was an undeniable illustration of the hardships the villagers had to endure and a testament to the peace the community had worked so hard to achieve despite its precarious situation. They probably didn't need to use that place often, so it wasn't as well-kept as the other buildings. It was only when Erik looked at it for the first time that he was hit with the harsh reality of the situation he was in.
This was not a place of comfort but rather of confinement and exclusion, but it served neither purpose well.
Vanessa invited him to come in with just a few simple hand movements. Behind him, two stern-faced villagers took their places in front of the door, armed with crude weapons, and their eyes never leaving him.
As the door to the building closed behind the young man, Vanessa, the leader of what Erik could only assume was a hunting team or a patrol, remained standing in front of it. She watched as the door closed behind him.
Erik was left with nothing but the low hum of the wilderness and the distant murmur of village life once the wooden door closed behind him with a low creak.
When Erik turned to observe the confines of the prison, a pall of gloom descended upon him, providing a striking contrast to the dwindling lights that could be seen outside. An eerie stillness in the air could be felt, along with a damp chill that went all the way to the bones.
The minuscule windows, which had been roughly carved, did little to alleviate the suffocating darkness. Instead, they only permitted a few stray light strands to seep through the cracks.
Any remaining light was swallowed up by the weathered and aged wood, which resulted in a spooky maze of shadows that extended to every nook and cranny.
Above, the vaulted roof disappeared into a void of unpenetrable darkness, swallowing any semblance of light or warmth. This location was not designed to be comfortable, nor intended to alert its inhabitants to the passage of time. In this location, day and night became indistinguishable from one another, and the oppressive, claustrophobic atmosphere never changed.
The interior was so quiet that even the slightest sounds, such as the rustling of leaves outside, appeared amplified. The prison was a hidden enclave that was always dark; it was a completely different world from the rest of the village.
There was a pervasive sense of unease and misery, which served as a palpable reminder of its purpose, which was to confine, isolate, and punish. This location was not only dark in appearance but also emotionally draining, with an atmosphere that was as harsh and unwelcoming as the absence of light it emitted.
Erik maintained an incredibly calm demeanor despite the dire circumstances. He was aware of the desperation buried deep within the marrow of the villagers. He knew that they were on the precipice of extinction, teetering on the edge of a ravenous hunger that gnawed away at their willpower.
Yes, he understood their plight and was aware that they would not take his offer of food lightly, regardless of how suspicious they were of his arrival and the reasons for his presence among them. The villagers were in need of sustenance, and he had offered them a workable solution to their problem.
Settling down on the cold, wooden floor, Erik began to channel mana, a gentle, unseen current flowing through his body. His mind began to tread the familiar path of training, honing his neural links, the intricate web that connected his brain crystal and his brain.
There was no room for hopelessness or frustration because every second was a valuable commodity that he could not afford to throw away. He was determined to achieve his goal, and he wouldn't let his circumstances stop him.
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