A Background Character's Path to Power-Chapter 385: The Salom Tribe

"Night Devourer..."

The name slipped out before I could stop myself.

It really did sound menacing, like something born from the belly of a nightmare, dragged into reality just to ruin someone’s day.

Preferably mine, knowing my luck.

"Don’t mention it," Uru’en commented quietly, picking up the pace as the last light bled from the sky. "In fact, no one has actually seen it themselves. Because everyone who has faced it... didn’t live to tell the tale. We only know that it exists. We know the silence that falls when it hunts. We know the marks it leaves."

He glanced back at me, his amber eyes reflecting the dying violet in the sky.

"So we don’t go out at night. That’s the rule. You are lucky to have encountered us," Uru’en finished. "If not... well. I wouldn’t want to imagine."

I nodded silently. He wasn’t wrong. I was ’lucky’.

Confronting an unknown horror on my first night in these lands would have been a catastrophic way to test my new strength.

It even ignited a small spark of interest in me.

However, since Uru’en didn’t seem to have any further intention of talking about it, I didn’t mention it either.

The rest of the walk passed in a more subdued silence.

Uru’en pointed out subtle landmarks, a lightning-struck tree that marked a safe path, and a particular rock formation that indicated clean water was nearby.

In turn, I asked careful questions, learning that the Salom Tribe was one of three major clans that held these borderlands. The other two were the Stonehide and the Frostwalkers.

"Stonehides are as stubborn as the mountains," Uru’en explained, a hint of amused rivalry in his voice. "Frostwalkers are quieter, like the snow. We Salom... we adapt."

I also gained a deeper understanding of the Drakari clan’s culture.

It was clear they valued strength above all else. Leadership, respect, and even basic social standing seemed to be decided by one’s power and prowess in battle or the hunt.

When Uru’en spoke about the role of the tribe chief, his voice held a deep, reverent tone.

"The strong lead. The strong protect. That is our way."

He spoke with a focused intensity that made it obvious he wasn’t just telling me about a tradition — he was stating his personal goal of aiming for that position himself. And I had almost no doubt he could do it.

Finally, the dense forest gave way to a sheltered valley. Our destination came into view.

I thought it would be similar to the Keth’al Village.

But the Salom settlement was less a village and more a fortress carved into the landscape, nestled against the sheer face of a colossal, black-rock mountain.

Smoke rose in thin trails from dozens of huts.

We could hear the murmur of voices, the distant clang of metal, the rhythmic beat of drums echoing faintly from somewhere deeper within.

There were also some homes built from the same stone, blending seamlessly with the cliffs.

And a massive, spiked palisade of petrified wood, bones, and reinforced stone formed a formidable outer wall, curving from one side of the mountain to the other, sealing the valley.

Watchtowers, hewn from the living rock, overlooked the approach.

Everything about it spoke of a people who had learned to build their safety into the bones of the earth.

"Welcome," Uru’en said from the side, with a quiet pride that rolled off him like heat. "This is my home, Salom."

"Mmm." I nodded, taking in the impressive sight. "It’s... formidable."

As we approached the main gate, the other three hunters caught up, falling into step behind us.

The watchguards on the walls spotted me, their eyes sharp and assessing.

Their gazes lingered for a moment, but after a glance at Uru’en walking confidently at my side, they gave no trouble, simply nodding us through.

Inside was even more impressive.

Dozens of towering figures moved through the settlement — men, women, even teenagers — all of them built like they were carved out of winter storms and packed snow.

Broad shoulders, strong frames, scars that told long stories.

Even the children were nearly my height, running around with wooden spears and miniature bone axes like it was completely normal.

A few paused mid-step when they noticed me.

They whispered to each other in their native tongue, a deep, rough language that rolled like distant thunder.

Every so often, one of them tilted their head to get another look at me, but none approached.

Probably waiting to see whether I was prey, pest, or something in between.

I also tried not to stare too much at them, no matter how curious I was.

One problem quickly became obvious, though.

They looked similar. Almost frustratingly so. Heavy fur coats, bone ornaments, braided hair, tribal markings, and so on.

The hunters were even worse.

With their masks still on, they might as well have been clones.

I realized something else too.

I still didn’t know what Uru’en looked like under that mask.

Well... other than the eyes.

Those molten-amber eyes were the only reason I could track him through this crowd. He moved with a steadiness and confidence that made the others glance his way as he passed, small nods of acknowledgment following him.

He certainly stood out, either with his aura or the way he acted.

The other three parted ways with us here.

Then the two of us walked deeper into the settlement until the path widened into an open clearing.

A massive hut stood at the center, towering over the others.

Its walls were reinforced with thick wooden beams and slabs of stone, and its roof was layered with fur and thatch so heavy it could probably withstand a mountain collapsing on it.

Two enormous, curved bones were embedded upright in the ground on either side of its entrance. They looked like the ribs of some ancient, colossal beast.

Uru’en stopped in front of it.

"This," he said, glancing at me, "is my home."

Uru’en pushed the heavy fur aside and gestured for me to enter.

"Come in. I’ll introduce you to my family."

I followed, my earlier guess solidifying.

He was indeed the chief’s son(or perhaps grandson).

"Whoa."

The interior was... far larger than the hut’s outside suggested. Almost unnaturally so.

Either these people were architectural geniuses, or this place had been expanded over generations until it resembled a small, warm fortress of its own.

Thick fur rugs lined the floor. Firelight cast amber shadows across the walls. The space wasn’t one giant hall — it was divided into multiple rooms, each marked by carved wooden doorframes.

We entered the first chamber.

Inside, a fire pit glowed warmly in the center, casting flickering light over the furs covering the floor. The walls were lined with weapons and trophies from great hunts: massive antlers, polished skulls, and gleaming bone weapons.

Seated near the fire was a figure who immediately commanded the room’s attention.

At first glance, the power in their frame was unmistakable: broader shoulders and dense muscle visible even at rest.

But as my eyes adjusted, other details emerged.

The long, lustrous black hair was braided over one shoulder. The sharpness of the jaw was softened only by the curve of the lips, and the stunning face, carved with the same fierce beauty as a winter landscape. The mantle across her shoulder

That’s right, the chief was a woman.

"Mother," Uru’en said as he stepped forward, his deep voice softening slightly. "I’ve brought a guest."

The chief opened her eyes. One eye, to be precise — her left was hidden behind a sleek black leather eyepatch. The right was a deep, piercing amber, identical to her son’s. Her gaze fixed on me, sharp and inquisitive.

I met her gaze calmly and gave a polite nod.

"Greetings. I am Lumin, a traveling healer. Thank you for your tribe’s hospitality."

The chief glanced at Uru’en briefly before turning back to me, a faint smile playing on her lips. She studied me for a moment, the firelight glinting off the polished bone clasp of her eyepatch, and spoke.

"Mr.Lumin, are you single?"