Chapter 33 The Eighty-Year-Old Child

"Elder Zulvan," Freya clumsily bowed her head, clutching her paws.

Zulvan stepped aside, and immediately the elderly, weak, women, and children surged forward.

Several old women, carrying food served on dried lotus leaves, raised their offerings high above their heads, deeply bowing to Freya in reverence before respectfully placing the food before her feet.

Some women and children followed their elders in kneeling, while a few mischievous wildling children, as they kowtowed, secretly winked and made faces at Freya.

Freya stood stiffly, accepting the worship of these druid believers. This was also the first time Leo had seen Freya face food without losing her composure.

Witnessing this scene, Leo began to understand why Freya had left this tribe.

She was simply too restrained—unable to let herself go!

Finally, a young woman carefully placed her swaddled infant before Freya.

The baby lay in a deep sleep, its breath weak, face pale.

Freya stared intently at the infant, then shook her head firmly. "I don't eat children!"

Leo, speechless, guided her, "Is it possible they're asking you to heal, not to eat?"

"Oh..." Freya breathed a sigh of relief, though a hint of disappointment lingered as she nodded.

She stretched out her forepaw and began to gather energy; her fur stood on end, glowing with a verdant, emerald light.

The green radiance collected at her outstretched paw, forming a ball of light the size of a football.

With a flick, the green sphere dropped onto the wildling infant, exploding in a burst of light.

The infant’s complexion quickly returned to a healthy flush, and its eyes opened as it began to wail.

The mother, overcome with joy, cradled her child and kowtowed repeatedly to Freya.

Freya bent down and tapped the young mother’s forehead with her paw; only then did the woman retreat, overflowing with gratitude.

Leo was stunned. He hadn’t expected this clumsy marmot to possess such abilities.

This was magic!

But then again, it made sense. A druid elf who could transform into a bear would naturally know healing spells or techniques to cure disease.

When the villagers finally dispersed, Leo quietly teased, "Accepting worship from elders shortens your lifespan."

Freya wiped at imaginary sweat on her brow, her successful spell filling her with pride and making her much more lively.

Hearing Leo’s mockery, Freya put her paws on her hips. "Elders? I’m eighty years old!"

"Eighty?" Leo was incredulous. Eighty years old and yet with the intelligence of an eight-year-old?

Freya smugly explained, "Elves typically live for eight hundred years. You ignorant human child!"

Following Zulvan, they entered the village and walked to the deepest part, the lord’s grand hall. There, Leo saw a three-meter-tall statue before the entrance.

The statue was carved from a massive tree trunk, thick enough for two people to embrace. Though its form was unmistakably bear-like, details of the head, paws, and teeth betrayed its true nature—a marmot.

It was a marmot standing upright, mouth open in a roaring pose.

"This is my teacher, the leader of the Wildness Sect! Guardian of the Forest! Great Druid! Bobak Marimotas!"

Freya introduced the statue to Leo with pride, then pointed to herself.

"And I am the future leader of the Wildness Sect! The future guardian of the forest! The future Great Druid! Hehe!"

"It certainly sounds impressive. As the teacher, so the disciple!" Leo praised her without reservation.

Freya grinned from ear to ear. In her glee, she dropped one of the lotus leaves she was holding, spilling its food onto the ground. She hurriedly scrambled to the floor and extended her tongue to lick it up.

Through casual conversation with Elder Zulvan, Leo learned the origin of the marmot statue.

It turned out that Freya’s teacher—Bobak, the druid elf—had visited the Wolfbane Plains decades ago and aided this wildling tribe.

In the Northlands, ancestor worship had always been prevalent, sharing roots with the beastfolk’s shamanic faith and never excluding elven druid beliefs. The wildlings’ environment naturally aligned with the doctrines of the Wildness Sect.

Thus, during his stay in Wolfbane Plains, Druid Bobak left behind knowledge and ideas, which the wildlings adopted as tenets, developing many followers over the years.

Of course, these followers were broad in their devotion, like most Northlanders, simultaneously worshipping both the ancestral gods of shamanism and the nature gods of the druids.

Elven druids who could shapeshift were, in their eyes, incarnations of the divine.

When Freya fell from the sky and arrived in the wildling tribe, Zulvan thought Bobak had returned, only to discover it was his disciple, Freya.

"So, you fell off a cliff because you were stealing honey and got stung by bees?"

After hearing Zulvan’s story, Leo was speechless. He had thought Freya had some tragic past.

It turned out she was simply too clumsy to admit it!

Freya stammered, face full of grievance as she defended herself, "My teacher has been hibernating for two months and didn't prepare any food for me. I haven't eaten in two months!"

"Those bees were horrible—they stung my nostrils!"

Settled in the lord’s hall, Leo slowly explained his purpose. "I came here as a neighbor, with no ill intent."

"The Riverbend Camp is not a knightly frontier, just a group of refugees who found the only place they could settle."

"I’m sure you’ve seen—we’re not strong, we struggled even against kobolds."

Zulvan fixed Leo with a gaze that seemed to pierce his soul.

No one shows weakness before negotiations; even the weakest try to present themselves as strong.

Leo recounted the reasons and journey that led his village to Riverbend, describing the war and death along the North Ice River, and the hardships of migration, releasing the terror embedded in the soul fragments of his predecessor.

"Now, the camp has finally settled, only to discover the threat of the boarfolk."

"The boarfolk are our common enemy. If we join forces to defeat them, both our peoples will be safer."

Elder Zulvan regarded Leo and said, "Child, your sincerity has moved me. I am glad suffering did not destroy you. The Berserkers welcome your arrival. But we will not join your fight."

In the ancestral legends of the Northlands, the war god Tyr had a hundred sons, who spread across the land to form a hundred clans.

Aside from his eldest, Odalov, and others like Forelov and Isharov—names that became centuries-old family lines—there were also sons such as Bersak and Lavade, revered by many tribes as ancestors.

Bersak means "warrior clad in bear skin." The Berserkers are the wildlings’ self-designation in the Wolfbane Plains.