Boundless Evolution: The Summoning Beast
Chapter 38: The Hope of the Villagers

Chapter 38: The Hope of the Villagers

Boy moved through the darkened forest, his paws gliding silently over the damp earth. The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting scattered silver beams onto the path ahead.

The quiet hum of insects filled the air and as he walked, his thoughts churned. The warmth of the villagers’ gratitude still lingered in his mind along with the talk with Hazel, an unfamiliar sensation that he couldn’t quite place.

He had spent his existence being used, discarded, and forgotten. This kind of acknowledgement, this sense of belonging- now coming from humans once he became a beast- felt foreign.

A part of him wanted to push it away, to reject it but another part of him hesitated.

Why was it so hard to walk away? Was it the way they had looked at him- not as a tool, not as a beast, but as something more?

But then he had heard words of gratitude before and it landed him in this state.

His steps slowed as he neared the edge of the village. He exhaled softly, emerging from the treeline, as he entered the village.

The scent of smoke and burnt wood lingered strongly in the air, mixing with the fresher smells of dirt, sweat, and the faint aroma of cooking food.

It was a strange blend of destruction and resilience- some homes were reduced to skeletal remains, others remained standing but heavily damaged by the battle.

He passed by male villagers working tirelessly, their faces weary but determined. Some hauled broken planks of wood while others gathered what little supplies remained.

’They are piecing together a shelter for the night...’ he understood as he saw groups of them come and go from the heart of the village, talking about how much more wood they would need to complete the shelter.

’They lost so much... And yet they kept moving forward...’ he watched as he saw another group of men struggle to lift a collapsed wooden beam, their muscles straining under its weight. He could see their exhaustion, yet they did not falter.

Boy’s gaze then landed on a completely burnt down house right next to where the men were taking wood from.

An elderly woman was sitting outside what was left of her home and she wasn’t gathering supplies of lifting beams- she was stoking a small fire, carefully adding pieces of wood as though the fire was special.

’The flame is weak and is struggling against the cold night air... yet she isn’t gathering bigger pieces of wood...,’ he observed, his curiosity spiking at the old lady’s actions as he made his way closer to her.

As he got closer, Boy realised that the pieces of wood had been neatly arranged in a particular formation and under them, a neat bed of sticks. At that instant, he realised, ’she’s not grabbing bigger pieces of wood because it would ruin the formation she had made.’

The flickering embers cast soft shadows across her face, deepening the lines of sorrow etched into her skin.

After adding one final piece of wood, she paused, silently observing the fire for a few seconds before she weakly brought her hands forward and clasped them together as she knelt in front of the fire.

"May you rest in peace, my son, my daughter-in-law..." her voice wavered, her words barely audible over the crackling fire, "May your spirits watch over this village, over those you left behind. And may we find the strength to carry on in your memory."

As she said this prayer, a soft gust of wind stirred the embers, making them glow brighter for a fleeting moment before settling again.

The woman exhaled shakily, as if releasing a part of her grief into the night.

Boy found himself staring at the fire longer than he intended. There was something about the scene- the way the fire refused to die despite how little fuel it had left, the way the wind blew into the fire and made the embers brighter.

It reminded him of the people here, of the way they clung to life even after everything had been torn from them.

He he he~

The sound of laughter caught his attention as his head turned around to the source. A group of children were peeking out from behind a half-collapsed wall, their wide, curious eyes fixed on him.

Upon seeing him turn towards them, the children all began to scurry away, giggling happily.

’How are they able to hold onto hope in such a situation?’ Boy thought, deeply confused at how he was able to see such sadness and devastation but also hope in such a scenario.

A slow rustling of fabric and creak of weary bones pulled his attention back as the old lady rose to her two feet and as she turned, her eyes met Boy’s.

"You’ve been watching for some time now," she said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "Come, walk with me to the heart of the village. The feast should almost be ready now."

Boy hesitated as he told her telepathically, ’How?’

The woman tilted her head slightly as her eyes widened temporarily at Boy’s ability to speak before she replied,slightly turning around while gesturing for Boy to make his way towards her, "How what?"

Boy’s golden eyes flickered towards the people of the village as he made his way towards her, "How do you still have hope after everything? You guys have almost nothing."

A small, knowing smile touched her lips as she considered his question.

"Because hope is what keeps us alive," she said, "We don’t endure because we are strong but because we have something to hold onto. We endure because we carry the dreams and wishes of those who came before us, the hopes they left in our hands."

Boy remained silent, mulling over her words as she finished, "Without hope, we let their voices fade and their dreams die with them."

The woman lightly rubbed her hand over the hackles on the top of Boy’s head as she began walking forward once again, "Come, let’s head to the village center. You can see for yourself what it means to hold on."

A quiet resolve settled in him as he joined the old lady and they made their way towards a source of flickering light where voices and the smell of food signalled the start of a modest feast beginning soon.

Boy and the old woman arrived at the center of the village, they saw families huddled around the big fire while each worked towards roasting pieces of meat or cooking vegetables.

The villagers had gathered to share what little they had in celebration of their survival and as thanks to the soldiers. And the soldiers that they seeked to thank were sitting among them, exchanging stories of battle, laughter mixing with the night air. Yet through all this, the sadness in their eyes was still present yet even more evident was the look of uplifting that they were able to place on their faces.

Boy took in the sight, the atmosphere foreign yet strangely grounding as despite the destruction, a strange warmth filled the air.

This was hope- the thing he had struggled to understand. It was not present in just words or fleeting emotions. It was in the way they gathered, in the way they still found a reason to smile despite their pain.

A shift rippled through the gathering as a few villagers took notice of the large hyena walking beside the elderly woman.

Conversations quietened as a lot of heads turned towards him, a tense feeling spreading across the whole center.

Boy sensed all this and exhaled sharply through his nose as he had expected, even gratitude had its limits.

But what happened next caught him off guard as he saw not a trace of negativity in the eyes or body language of the villagers and soldiers. Some even nodded at him in greeting as they let out a smile.

The elderly woman placed a gentle hand on his back, a silent gesture of reassurance as she murmured, "You gave them hope. But they don’t know how to thank you after what you did earlier."

Boy didn’t reply as his gaze then ran through all the villagers seated near the fire, searching for someone. His gaze then stopped at one person, the girl that reminded him of Lady Elaria.

She was sitting by herself, a warm fur coat draped around her as her father seemed to have left to help out with the others. Her fingers tracing patterns on the soil as she seemed to still be lost in thought.

’I need to go,’ he said telepathically as he turned to the elderly woman.

She gave him a knowing nod as she stepped aside and began walking towards a group that was cooking something while Boy made his way towards the girl.

Hearing the heavy footsteps of Boy approaching, the girl looked up, her breath pausing as Boy stopped in front of her. Her fingers twitched slightly, hesitating as she met his steady golden gaze with her mind in chaos.

Was he angry? Was he here to judge her?

Uncertainty coiled tightly in her chest. The villagers around her saw this and hesitated as if wanting to approach the hyena but held back.

But then, without a word, Boy simply extended his head forward and opened his mouth as he gently placed a flower right next to her.

A stunned silence followed.

The villagers nearby murmured in quiet amazement, their eyes shifting between the hyena and the girl. Some of the soldiers exchanged knowing glances, nodding in respect. Even the feline summon watched the exchange with silent curiosity.

The girl stared at the delicate blossom, in shock, then at Boy, her expression unreadable at first. The delicate petals seemed almost out of place in the roughness of the moment, fragile yet deliberated.

She knew this particular orchid, it was something that only grew in the forest and couldn’t be found in the village, meaning that Boy could only have brought it from outside.

Slowly, her fingers curled around the stem, her grip gentle as if afraid it might vanish...

"Is this... for me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Boy held her gaze for a moment, then gave a small, slow nod.

Her eyes widened at this, glistening slightly under the soft light of the fire.

A shaky breath escaped her lips before a small, relieved smile was etched on her face.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice carrying a different weight than before.

At this, the tension in the area began to ease as the villagers who had watched the exchange slowly turned their attention back to the feast. Conversations resumed, laughter bubbled up from different corners, and the atmosphere of a feast fully took hold.

The feast that night carried a different kind of warmth—not just one of survival, but of gratitude, of unity.

The feline summon stretched lazily at the edge of the gathering, its ears twitching as it observed everything in quiet contentment.

Boy sat near the warmth of the flames, his golden eyes scanning the gathering.

He watched as a man ruffled his child’s hair, as the elders and soldiers recounted old stories to the young, as weary hands lifted cups in quiet toasts.

The way they clung to life, to each other, to hope—it was something he had never understood before.

And yet, for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to settle into it.

’I... don’t hate this,’ he thought, almost begrudgingly. The thought felt foreign, unsettling even, but not entirely unwelcome.

He had thought that life was simply surviving, fighting, running. But this encounter had taught him that maybe, just maybe, there was something beyond that.