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"And during their memorial services," he continued with a slight smile, "some worshippers were chosen by the spirits of fallen warriors or ancestors to receive blessings; gifts of strength, courage, and wisdom."

Logan knew that he needed to \'give them a reason\' for the miraculous breakthroughs they had just experienced. \'He needed to control the narrative.\' In truth, \'the blessings were a carefully orchestrated move\' on his part, designed to attract worship and generate more of the blue light orbs \'the power of faith\'.

The temple wasn\'t built just to remember the dead. Logan had a deeper vision \'to cultivate a faith that belonged to the people, something ordinary yet powerful.\' Unlike the distant gods perched high above, the \'faith in ancestors and fallen warriors was personal, rooted in family and history.\' If nurtured properly, \'this new faith could grow to rival or even replace, the gods.\'

But Logan knew better than to act recklessly. \'Faith was delicate\', and power shifts were dangerous. Until his tribe was strong enough, he would tread carefully.

He smiled gently at the group before him. "Perhaps your devout worship in this temple moved the ancient ancestors of the Silvermane Tribe. Or perhaps the warriors who gave their lives for the tribe chose to grant you strength." He gave a small shrug, as if the answer didn\'t matter. "Whatever the reason, your increased strength is a gift, \'one that will benefit us all."

"Blessings from ancestors?" murmured one of the priests under his breath.

Astali\'s brow furrowed, and \'Luke\', standing silently among his fellow priests, \'narrowed his eyes with suspicion.\'

The priests were uneasy. To them, \'such blessings traditionally came from the gods.\' Could it really be that \'the spirits of warriors and ancestors had taken on the role of granting power?\' Luke, in particular, found it difficult to accept this idea. But \'no one dared voice their doubts.\'

\'Logan was their chief, and questioning him could have consequences.\'

"All right," Logan said with a smile, "the ceremony is over. Those of you who wish to explore the temple further may do so. \'If not, you\'re free to return to your duties."

"Yes, Chief!" the group responded in unison, bowing respectfully.

Lot and the other six warriors who had received the blessings glanced at one another. They felt a strange mix of disbelief and reverence.

Whether the blessings came from the ancestors or not, \'they had undeniably been granted power within the temple.\' And for that, they felt compelled to express their gratitude.

Without a word, the seven warriors returned to the \'pile of swaying teeth\' in the center of the temple. They \'knelt once more\', bowing their heads deeply in reverence. \'Each man pressed his forehead to the ground\' as a sign of respect, offering silent thanks for the gift they had received.

Astali and the other leaders hesitated for a moment, watching the seven men with uncertainty. But the moment felt charged with something sacred, and \'they could not shake the strangeness of it all.\' The simultaneous breakthroughs were too bizarre to ignore. \'Better to believe than to question,\' they reasoned.

One by one, \'the other leaders followed suit\', bowing before the swaying teeth in imitation of Lot and his companions.

Logan watched them with quiet satisfaction. \'It was working.\' The people were beginning to align their hearts with the temple and with the new faith he intended to cultivate.

Satisfied, Logan turned and approached \'Priest Luke\', who had been watching the proceedings with a mix of confusion and discomfort.

"Priest Luke, come walk with me. We need to talk."

Without waiting for a response, Logan stepped out of the temple, his movements calm and deliberate.

Luke hesitated, casting a glance at the other priests. They exchanged uneasy looks but said nothing. With a quiet sigh, Luke adjusted his robes and followed Logan out into the open air.

Outside the temple, \'the wind whispered through the trees\', carrying the distant sounds of the bustling tribe. \'Logan stood silently for a moment, looking out over his land\' before turning to Luke, his expression unreadable.

"I heard that the tribe you once served was divided by others and that many of your descendants died because of it."

Luke blinked, caught off guard by the sudden, personal question. \'His heart tightened\' at the painful memory.

The chief\'s words were not false. Luke had once been \'a high priest in his former tribe\', a man of influence and respect. But famine had weakened his people, leaving them vulnerable to attack. \'When other tribes came for their land and resources, his people fell.\'

Luke\'s family, once large and prosperous; had been reduced to only \'two sons and three grandchildren.\' The others had perished in the chaos.

"Chief, I... I don\'t understand why you bring this up," Luke murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.

Logan smiled gently, though his eyes remained sharp. "Don\'t misunderstand me, Luke. I didn\'t mean to stir painful memories. I simply wanted to ask " He paused, his gaze unwavering. "What do you think of the Silvermane Tribe?"

Luke straightened slightly, sensing that the question carried weight. "The Silvermane Tribe is great, Chief," he answered without hesitation. "I\'ve been honored to serve here."

Logan\'s smile deepened. "Then can I assume, Priest Luke, that you are now one of us; a member of the Silvermane Tribe?"

Luke\'s eyes widened briefly, but he quickly composed himself. \'The meaning behind the question was clear.\' This was a test of loyalty.

"Of course, Master Chief," Luke said firmly. "I am part of the Silvermane Tribe now. There is no doubt."

Logan studied the old priest for a moment, his expression unreadable. \'He needed Luke\'s loyalty; for now.\'

"Well said," Logan replied with a satisfied nod. "Welcome home, Priest Luke."

The priest bowed his head respectfully, understanding that \'his future, and that of his family, now lay with the Silvermane Tribe.\'

As they stood together under the open sky, \'Logan knew that the foundations for something far greater had been laid today.\' The tribe was growing stronger \'not just in power, but in unity and faith.\'

And with every step forward, \'the old ways, those dominated by gods and distant forces, began to crumble.\'

The \'future belonged to the Silvermane Tribe\', and Logan intended to shape it with his own hands.

Logan\'s expression remained calm, though the weight behind his next question was anything but light. With a faint, knowing smile, he asked, "So tell me, Priest Luke, which is more important to you; your God or the Silvermane Tribe?"

The question hit like a thunderbolt, and \'Luke\'s mind froze.\' How could such a question even be answered? The gods were eternal, all-seeing beings. \'To serve the gods was his sacred duty.\' But to survive and thrive in this new tribe, to protect what little remained of his family, the Silvermane Tribe had become just as vital.

He opened his mouth to answer but \'found himself at a loss for words.\' Could he truly place the tribe above his god? Yet \'he knew\' that saying the wrong thing might cost him dearly. \'From the very first day\' he met this young chief, he had sensed the man\'s distrust toward their priesthood. Logan was not one to tolerate power struggles; especially not those that involved faith.

Logan watched Luke\'s hesitation with sharp eyes, and after a brief pause, gave a slight nod. "I understand."

With a softer tone, Logan continued, "I don\'t reject the gods, Luke. I myself follow the God of War, at least in my own way.\' But being a servant of God doesn\'t absolve you from being \'part of this tribe,\' and I need you to remember that."

Luke\'s eyes flickered with doubt. \'A believer in the God of War?\' If that were true, why was there \'no altar to the God of War\' anywhere in the Silvermane Tribe? And yet, it was not impossible. There were many shallow believers; those who honored gods only in passing, without building temples or devoting themselves fully. Perhaps \'Logan was such a follower.\'

Despite his doubts, Luke lowered his head respectfully. "What are your orders, Master Chief?"

He knew better than to press the matter. \'The young chief\'s rejection of their rituals\' had left the priesthood with very little influence. If this was an opportunity to restore some favor, \'he could not afford to miss it.\'

Logan\'s smile returned, but there was a \'dangerous edge\' to it now. "I want you and your priests to help promote the \'Temple of Warriors\'. Spread the stories of our \'ancestors and fallen warriors\' throughout the tribe."

Luke blinked, confused. "Stories of ancestors?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Yes," Logan said, still smiling. "I want the people to know about the \'heroes of the Silvermane Tribe.\' Tell stories about the \'warriors who fought bravely and gave their lives for our future.\' Glorify their sacrifices."

Luke tilted his head, frowning. "But... Chief, we don\'t know much about the origins of the tribe, nor do we have any detailed stories about its warriors."

Logan shrugged casually. "Then make them up."

"Make them up?" Luke echoed in disbelief.

"Yes," Logan said, his smile widening. "Think of it like... \'the way stories about the gods are created."

Luke\'s face paled instantly. "Chief, the stories of the gods are not made up," he whispered, horror creeping into his voice.

Logan chuckled, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Oh, come now. Do you really believe all those stories are true? How many of them have been passed down through generations, distorted and embellished by those who told them?"

Luke\'s heart raced. \'Is this man truly a follower of the God of War?\' How could someone who claimed to worship the gods \'speak so casually\' about their stories being fabricated?

The humor faded from Logan\'s face, replaced by a cold, serious expression. "I don\'t care whether the stories of the gods are true or not.\' What matters is that you understand your task. \'Create stories about the ancestors and warriors of the Silvermane Tribe and make sure they spread."

Luke swallowed hard, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. \'The young chief\'s tone had shifted.\' This was no longer a request, it was an order, and \'the consequences of disobedience were clear.\'

"You\'ll find that stories about our warriors," Logan continued, his voice low and steady, "inspire just as much devotion as tales about the gods. And in return for this... effort, I\'ll allow you and your priests to preach freely to the people."

Luke\'s eyes widened. \'To preach?\' It was a dream they had all but given up on. \'The chief had always kept them at arm\'s length\', restricting their influence over the tribe. But now... \'this was an opportunity.\'

"I accept, Chief." Luke\'s reply came swiftly, his voice laced with both relief and caution. \'This was not a battle he could afford to fight.\'

He understood that Logan\'s patience was running thin, and that pressing the matter further would only end badly. And besides, \'if they could tell the stories the chief wanted,\' they could also quietly \'sow their own teachings\' into the narrative, building a subtle bridge between the faith in ancestors and the gods they served.

Logan studied the priest for a moment longer, as if weighing the sincerity of his words. Then, with a slight nod, he turned to walk away. "Good. I look forward to seeing your work."

As Logan strode off, \'Luke remained standing, deep in thought.\' He had \'avoided a confrontation for now,\' but he knew that this arrangement was far more than it seemed. \'The young chief was playing a long game,\' and the promotion of the Temple of Warriors was only the beginning.

The stories they created wouldn\'t just glorify the past, they would shape the future. If the people came to believe in the power of their ancestors and fallen warriors, \'they might start looking to them for guidance\' instead of the gods.

Luke let out a slow breath. \'He understood the stakes now.\' If they weren\'t careful, the gods they served might one day \'be forgotten, replaced by a new kind of faith, one centered on mortal heroes, not divine beings.\'

But for now, he would play along. \'The Silvermane Tribe was his home now, and he would do whatever it took to secure his place within it.\'

With a final glance at the temple behind him, \'Luke straightened his robes\' and made his way back to the other priests. They would have much to discuss, and even more to create. \'Stories of heroes, ancestors, and warriors would soon spread across the tribe, filling the hearts of the people with pride and purpose.\'

And as the temple grew in influence, so too would their priesthood; if they played their cards right.

Logan\'s plan was clear, and \'Luke knew he would need to tread carefully.\' But if the gods had taught him anything, it was that survival often required compromise.

With the chief\'s blessing and a careful balance of truth and fabrication \'a new era was about to begin\' in the Silvermane Tribe.

And in the end, \'whether through gods or ancestors, faith would remain a powerful force.\'