Sound came first, waves crashing on a shore. He opened his eyes, vision began to clear, seeing a sun in the heart of an orange sky. By instinct he tried to reach for a blade he couldn't wield anymore, to find nothing.
Energy traces lingering in his body, an itching idea in his head that he should be something more than an ached vessel.
He looked at the gentle waves crashing into the shoreline in a soothing rhythm.
He tried to remember how he got here, where he was or what his name was.
He got an answer for the last, his name popped into his head, The Wanderer.
The feeling of superiority clutched into his head, but here he was nothing more than a man. His body ached from the sudden fall, leaving blood in his mouth.
The people called the land Avaris.
The Wanderer’s bare feet sank in the warm sands as he walked with uneven steps.
He followed the forest paths, the wind carried bird callings and ruffled leaves.
He looked at the nest above him, a bird was flapping its wings, he watched the bird intensely, trying to predict its movements.
The bird flew down circling him, he jumped trying to catch the bird, but it flapped away through the forest.
He chased the bird until the trees parted, and in front of him was a city.
A city built where the mountains met the sea, its streets paved in pale jade and wood grown from living roots. Wooden bridges over streams connected to the sea, while towering buildings with etched runes caught his gaze. Blossoms floated on the wind, perfuming the air.
The Wanderer stepped through the gates, looking at the two guards at the entrance, but they didn't look back nor move, unintimidated by his presence, he stared at them walking backwards into the city, waiting for a reaction to the mighty presence he thought he had… but still nothing.
He moved deeper into Lythra, feeling the cold jade beneath his bare feet despite the sun, till he reached a wooden bridge over a small stream.
The sunlight reflected into tiny rainbows against the stream. He looked at the reflecting lights, noticing dried blood lines on his jaw, using the stream's surface to scrub the dried blood, while a kid beside him was trying to catch a fish in the stream, splashed water at him. He jolted, expecting an attack, only to be defeated by the kid's loud laughter. The kid drew the first smile on his chipped lips.
But for all its serenity, Lythra was no pure paradise. Soldiers in lacquered armor patrolling with spears tipped in black iron. Monks in robes and assassins in darkened cowls moved between crowds, their tattoos pulsing faintly with qi. At every shrine, rival banners hung side by side in uneasy truce
Another scent crept on him, cutting the floral air, a sharp stench of fermented fruit.
Stumbling men were drinking on the side of the road, wearing ragged cloth similar to his, he moved past them in haste, escaping the stench, his haste caused him to shove a man in his path.
The man spat in anger. “ You pushed me, give me three coins or I'll call the guards”
The Wanderer looked confused, opened his mouth to say something, but a voice behind him interrupted.
“ Hey, what's going on here?” said one of the drinking men.
The man replied. “ He shoved me boss”
The leader gulped the bottle in his hand, before throwing it on the jade street. “ Come on stranger, hand over five coins or we call the guards”
The other men closed in.
"What are you staring at stray dog, hurry up before my drink runs out," another added, lazily waving a dagger as they began to circle him.
The Wanderer commanded.
"Move."
He stepped forward, pushing the man blocking his path.
The group froze. For a moment, the authority in his tone hid the holes in his rags. Silence stretched, until the leader let out a laugh.
"Man, that ale was good," he wheezed, leaning into his companions. "For a second, I thought this outsider was a king or some damn noble."
He approached the Wanderer, tapping his dagger on the Wanderer’s shoulder, “ forget the guards, pay the toll or else…” he continued swaying. “ You don't wanna be in debt to the Fang, do you”
The Wanderer didn't understand most of what he said. “ I don't have anything of what you said, now step aside” Said brushing the man’s shoulder, the man was too drunk to balance himself, he fell onto the broken glass he threw earlier.
The leader wheezed. “ You assault me in Fang territory? Seize him!”
With drunken steps they moved in. Two lunged, pinning his arms, while a third drove a boot into the back of his knee. The Wanderer hit the jade stones with a thud, surprised by the sudden limitations of his flesh. He could feel the phantom pulse of his old power, but his muscles refused to ignite.
He struggled, muscles straining against the grip of the men, something in him pushed to take the dagger and crash it into the man's chest, but his mortal body couldn't carry the action.
They forced him flat on the ground, the leader straddled his back, kicking the breath of his lungs in the process. "Hold still, my king," the man hissed, the others laughing. "Let me give you your crown." As the man pulled his dagger.
The blade was cold as it dragged across his skin. The Wanderer ground his teeth as the man carved a half circle across his forehead, his drunken hand missing the shape, the Wanderer struggling to break free didn't help either. The blade being dull made it even worse, plowing his skin instead of cutting it.
Blood ran across his brows dripping into his eyes. After the half circle came the crooked lines turn, to end up with a bloody forehead crown.
"And now," the man shouted, raising his blood-slicked dagger to the sky, "for the coronation!"
The laughter turned into a flurry of stomps, drunken boots hitting every part of his cramped body, while he tried to break free.
He lunged, catching a drunkard's leg, only to receive a heavy boot to his shoulder. Bone popped as the joint displaced, ignoring the pain, The Wanderer was on him, bringing his bleeding forehead down in a brutal arc, smashing his crown directly into the man’s nose.
The others pulled him off their comrade, as he drove an elbow into the ribs of one captor, breaking free from one side. He used the free side to whip a knee into the chest of the other, sending the man stumbling back.
He began delivering punches and kicks as if his muscles held a memory his mind had lost. He moved like a cornered animal, eyes darting, reading the movement of their drunken footwork.
A man lunged from his blind side, blade first. The Wanderer tucked the man’s weapon-arm tight under his armpit, the pressure grinding his own broken bone further out of alignment, then snapped his good hand toward the man's face.
Then drove a finger deep into the man’s eye socket, pressed until the soft globe gave way, the eyeball rupturing with a wet pop.
The man’s scream tore through the serene air of Lythra, a sound that finally began to draw eyes from the shadows.
The drunken gang, shocked sober by the sudden explosion of violence, scrambled back. They carved out a wide circle around the Wanderer.
The leader, clutching his ruined face, spat through the blood. "My eyes! Kill him," he shrieked, but his men saw people silhouettes
Approaching from a far. They retreated into the shadows, dragging their wounded, leaving red stains across the jade.
The moment the threat vanished, the Wanderer’s body collapsed. The adrenaline evaporated, replaced by a wave of pain from his shattered limbs and torn skin. He slumped onto the jade stones, his muscles seizing in violence.
Through a haze of red, he saw blurry faces as his vision began to dim.
"Should we call the guards?" someone whispered.
"He’s dying," another replied. "We have to move him first."
The voices reduced to mumble as the world went black.
He woke up to a wooden ceiling above.
"Oh, you're awake," a voice cut through his thoughts.
The Wanderer turned to see a man standing by the door. He looked worn, his clothes stained with the dust of the city.
"Why did you engage with the Fang?" the man asked, shaking his head. "That’s a death wish in this district."
The Wanderer sat up, his body protesting every inch of movement. "Who is the Fang?"
"Try not to move," the man said, reaching for a glass of water and a pale fibrous fruit. "I patched you up as best I could, but you need a monk. The problem is, they don't set foot in Fang territory."
He handed the water over.
“The Fang are this city’s plague, the blood of their henchmen still wet on your cloth."
The Wanderer looked down at the wooden floor, the memory of the eyeball popping under his finger still fresh. "I told them to move..."
The man sighed. "I can tell you're new. Next time you see the Fang, you lower your head and keep walking. Let them spit on you if they have to.
It's for the best, trust me."
"They were slow," the Wanderer rasped, his voice struggling against the pain.
"It’s not the drunks," the man replied grimly. "It’s who protects them. That's the real problem, you should care about yourself more, no one else will, even the damn monks don't care anymore.”
The man sat beside him. "spend the night here, in the morning will try to get a monk here" the man said, then smiled. "They are pricey, but you can pay me later."
The Wanderer nodded, leaning back against the wall, but the world had already begun to shift. "Don't be alerted, the fruit you ate should dull the pain, rest for now."
The man’s voice faded, as the sedative took effect, relaxing him into a deep sleep.
He found himself in a different place, suspended in a column of sapphire light, surrounded by void.
Around him, needles danced like silver insects, moving in precision.
They wove muscle and nerve over his white bones.
He thought it was a dream, but the vividness implied otherwise.
A mechanical voice like strings talking, echoed through the void: [ Escaped anomalies have eliminated every warden created to hunt them... initiating… final… co-zzzt-protocol… ]
[ Bypassing safety measures... sending maximum energy.]
A surge of living heat flooded his new veins. The needles withdrew with a synchronized hiss. He dropped, his boots meeting a floor that didn't exist. He looked at his hand, then at the weight of the heavy runic blade gripped in his fist.
[Eliminate the escaped anomalies,] the machine commanded, the signal flickering.
“Wa… zzzt… Wanderer… zzzt…Warden…”
The Wanderer bolted upright on the thin mattress, his breath hitching. The vision felt more real than the room he was currently in. But the pain of his actual injuries quickly tethered him back to the present.
The man rushed in with concern all over his face, “ are you ok? The Kuzan fruit effect should be gone by now. I asked a monk to come here but he refused, do you think you can walk?”
The Wanderer nodded, and tried to get out of bed, he was about to fall, the man helped him stand. “Easy now, let's go to the damn monk, lean on me.”
The Wanderer laid his good arm on the man’s shoulder, the man supported him walking out of the house.
They walked outside slowly.
After a few steps, a voice came from behind. “ That’s him, the man who refused to pay the toll and beat us!”
The Wanderer looked to the source to find the men from yesterday along with two guards.
The guard marched blocking his path, spear in hand. “ Did you beat these men and refused to pay?”
The Wanderer rasped. “ They attacked me”
The guard looked at the men in crudely patched injuries, and at the one-eyed leader, sighed. “ You shoved them first and refused to pay, right?”
The Wanderer nodded.
The guard grabbed him. “We have to take you in”
The man holding him hesitated. “ They ganged up on him sir, he was defending himself “
The other guard barked, pushing him aside, “ go back to your home, or we will take you for harboring a criminal.” The man began moving away slowly looking at the Wanderer in grief.
The one-eyed leader spat on him as the guards took him away. “ That’s what happens when you cross the Fang”
Looked at the guard and continued, “ I'm sure the monks sent him to weaken us! The monks must pay for our treatments”
His men shouted, “ Yes, we have a debt to settle”
The guard ordered back. “Step aside Fang or I'll give you a cell next to him”
Then moved away to the guard’s house.
The guard sat him down and leaned against a desk, watching him. "Why did you attack those men?"
The Wanderer struggled to keep his spine straight, taking an effort to breathe. He pointed to the blood scarred "crown" carved into his own forehead. "They chose blood."
The guard stepped closer, squinting at the Wanderer’s shaking frame. He saw the pulverized knuckles, the displaced arm, and the way the man still held himself by a thread. "Do you practice Qi? Magic?"
The words sounded familiar but the Wanderer couldn't quite remember the exact meaning. He shook his head. "No."
The guard lowered his voice, pity crossing his face. "Couldn't you have just paid the toll? A few coins to keep your skin intact?"
"I don't know what that is," the Wanderer rasped. "And they didn't care to explain."
The guard sighed, “ You got yourself into trouble, I can't bend the rules for your sake, I'm aware you don't know much about Lythra.
But letting you go freely will cause more problems than I can fix.”
He stood up, his face hardening back into a mask of duty.
“Ignorance isn’t an excuse. My hands are tied.”
He glanced at the blood on the Wanderer’s clothes.
“This city runs on a ledger, outsider. And yours is deep in the red.”
He paused.
“Blood for blood. An eye for an eye...”
“The Fang will collect tomorrow,” said the guard, avoiding eye contact.
“If there’s nothing left of you… your entrails won't stay inside the walls.”