The guard - still avoiding his eyes - rasped. "We’ll get a monk in here to patch you up. We don’t need you dying before your debt is settled."
The Wanderer’s heart pounded against his ribs as they took him down a narrow corridor and threw him into a damp, cramped cell. The air was thick with the stench of stale urine.
Other inmates were already filling the cramped space, one crawled helping him sit.
“ Hey hey, do you have any coins to spare? I swear I'll pay you back. But please… anything”
The Wanderer turned his head slowly, checking the man’s face covered in dust split by a line of fresh tears, and a hopeful smile.
“I wouldn't be here if I had some.”
The man retreated back, leaning his head against the wall, then began to sob, covering his face with one hand, smashing the other on the floor.
The Wanderer hesitated for a moment. “ Calm down, I'm sure it will be fine”
The inmate erupted. “I'm gonna die!
I just wanted some food for my starving kid.
Why is this a crime?” He grabbed the Wanderer’s collar, shaking him. “Is it better to die starving or die on the wretched wall outside? TELL ME!”
he let the Wanderer’s cloth and began crawling to the other inmates begging. “ ANYONE PLEASE! MY CHILD…”
The guards came in, dragged the man across the floor against his pleas to the inmates, who looked away helplessly.
The man’s cry faded away, after a few minutes his pleas turned into screams of agony, coming from the lonely high window in the cell.
The screams grew louder between the sounds of lashes and bone cracking sounds.
The inmates covered their ears, burying their faces between their knees.
The Wanderer stood up, smashing his hands against the iron door, “ Stop torturing the poor man! You should be giving him bread, not punching him.” He looked back at the crumbling inmates shouting, “no one will stop this?”
But they didn't answer.
He hit the wall, sliding down in desperation. His heart sank, his eyes twitching with each lashing sound.
He began to cover his ears too, his mind imagining the horror outside, thinking this will be his punishment the next day.
The sound stopped, the Wanderer lifted his hand, trying to listen if it's over. “Is it over?”
He asked the others.
One replied. “His debt is paid if that's what you ask, dead or not… I don't know… don't wanna know”
Hours later, the cell door opened. A man with a shaved head and flowing robes stepped in, flanked by a guard. The monk’s calm expressions instantly soured, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the smell. He coughed into his sleeve, gesturing sharply at the guard. "Keep the door open. Let’s end this quickly."
He approached the Wanderer, hovering an open palm over the Wanderer’s wounds, and a steady, warm stream of Qi began to flow.
The effect was instantaneous. The scarred "crown" on the Wanderer’s forehead knit together into a faint mark, his shoulder popped back into its socket.
He felt the warmth of Qi, healing his mind as it did to his body, smooth and peaceful.
And he liked it…too much, he craved it.
The monk shifted his focus toward the shattered ribs, but the moment the Qi touched the Wanderer’s core…
The Wanderer began to seize, his body arching off the stone floor, mouth drooling.
Something within fed without a mouth.
Driven by instinctual hunger, the Wanderer lunged, his fingers locking onto the monk’s forearms.
The monk let out a panicked yelp, sending a violent pulse of Qi through his limbs to break the grip.
The force threw the monk backward, sending him sprawling into the filth on the floor.
"Nobody told me he had magic!" the monk shrieked, scrambling to his feet.
The guard stepped forward, hand on his sword hilt. "We didn't detect any resonance from him."
The monk ignored him, wiping his urine-stained robes, his face pale. "He does. It is just…. buried, I can't heal him further. Any more Qi will tear him apart."
The Wanderer stood up, his movements jerky and possessed. His gaze fixed on the monk, his eyes wild and hungry. "Give me more," he rasped, lunging toward the monk. "Give me more of that!"
The guard stepped in immediately, drove an armored elbow into the Wanderer’s jaw, sending him crashing back to the ground.
The monk fled the cell block, his voice echoing down the hall. "If you can't guarantee the safety of our healers, do not call the temple again!"
The heavy iron door slammed shut, leaving the Wanderer flat on the wet floor. He pushed himself up slowly, his jaw pulsing in pain, but his mind was racing. That energy… my body aches for it.
The inmates stood up against the wall, moving slowly away from him, whispering “ witch?... is he?... the monks said magic”
One shrieked. “guards! guards!”
The guard opened the door.
The inmate pointed a shaky finger. “ He is a witch! Take him away before he curses us all!”
The guard hesitated approaching the Wanderer, flipped him to his back with the spear for a distance.
The Wanderer’s chest was heaving, eyes wide.
The guard barked. “On your feet inmate”
The Wanderer stood up, still shaking, butt of the spear pushed him out of the cell, as the guard ordered, “move.”
The guard pushed him into an empty cell, while avoiding a direct touch. “Don't try anything funny, witch!” said the guard closing the door.
The inmates paying their “debits” outside continued to the end of the day, only fueling his mind of images of the next day.
The night came, the screaming stopped.
He began thinking of the energy the monk gave him, and why his body reacted this way.
Then, the screaming echoed in his mind.
He thought to himself it doesn't matter, the Fang will get their pound of flesh tomorrow anyway, finally falling into sleep from exhaustion.
The morning light was unforgiving.
The cell door opened, and the guards stepped in to pull him to his feet.
The Wanderer waved them off, pushing himself up. His body felt lighter, but the hunger didn't, a hollow ache that food couldn't touch.
They led him out of the damp dark and into a wide, open courtyard. His eyes struggled adjusting to the day light, he heard the crowd's mumbling stopped as he appeared, then someone shouted place your bets now how long can this man survive.
He looked at the man collecting bets on his survival then at the crowd, monks in serene silks, Fang members draped in dark leather, and curious citizens looking for a distraction, in a mix of gender and age.
As he passed, the thugs from the alley erupted, calling for their payments.
At the far end stood a stone wall, its surface stained dark by years of "debts." Heavy iron chains hung from rusted bolts.He saw the crusted blood on the chains, the smell hit next…rot, waste. Flies covered it.
The Wanderer froze for a heartbeat, knowing what this wall was for. His heart beating against his ribs, his legs stiffened.
The guards grabbed his shoulders and dragged him as his body resisted toward the wall.
He began to shake, the cold iron of the shackles snapping shut around his wrists, forcing him against the blood-stained stone.
Fear took over him.
The guard from the previous night stepped forward, his spear held high to quiet the crowd.
"The debt is recognized," he announced, his voice ringing across the yard. "Who holds a claim, come forward and state your grievance in order."
The line of thugs formed a queue in front of the Wanderer, their faces twisted with predatory glee.
The first man stepped forward, limping with exaggerated steps. "He broke my leg," he declared. The guard glanced at the man’s obvious acting, but they let him in anyway.
The man raised a heavy wooden club and swung it with a grunt of effort. The wood shattered against his shin, bone snapped, tearing through skin, followed by his scream of pain echoing.
The attacker reached for a second club, the guard caught his arm. "Enough. Debt settled. Next."
The Wanderer’s scream scraped his throat coming out, as his mind raced images of the man from yesterday calling the facade.
A thought popped in his mind: how is this legal? What did I do wrong?
Only the iron bite of the shackles kept him from collapsing into the filth.
The next man stepped up, his eyes gleaming. "He stabbed my abdomen." The guard gestured for him to take his due.
The man leaned in close, his breath sour against the Wanderer’s ear. "I can end this misery quickly," he whispered, his hand tightening on a rusted blade. "You just need to beg for it."
The Wanderer’s head hung low, but as the man’s taunt hit him, left bitterness in his mouth. Using the wall for leverage, he lunged forward. A faint, ghostly trace of Qi sparked behind his eyes as he smashed his head into the man’s jaw.
It was barely a hit, recoiling him back dangling again from the chains.
He glimpsed a female monk opening her mouth in surprise between the shocked crowd.
The attacker howled, blood his lip. "Ungrateful bastard!" he shrieked, rage taking him. He lunged back, driving his dagger into the Wanderer’s side again and again.
The guards swarmed him, shoving him back with their spear butts. "You dare take more than your due?" the lead guard roared. "Throw him in a cell!..Next!"
"Excuse me!"
A woman’s voice cut through the noise.
Struggled to move through the crowd, a monk in flowing green robes stepped forward, jade beads clicking around her neck.
"I believe the man has paid his due," she said, her gaze steady. "He is an outsider. We must show him that Lythra has laws, but it also has mercy."
The guard tightened his grip on his spear. "The debt must be paid in full... unless the Fang chooses to forgive."
"Never!" the one-eyed man screamed, his voice joined by a chorus of his men demanding their rights.
She reached into her sleeve and tossed a heavy pouch of coins into the dirt at their feet. It landed with a thud. "This should be more than enough to cover the physical fees and the insult."
She looked at the one-eyed man, her hand glowing with Qi. "If you still disagree…we settle the rest in a sacred duel."