Jorish’s sleeves fluttered as they were patted by the wind. He felt annoyed, as his sleeve kept hitting his arm, making it itch. He extended his other hand to scratch it, yet froze as he got more annoyed, unable to scratch that itch.

Moments later, the itch got more and more pronounced. Jorish started getting frustrated at being unable to scratch it, until it was suddenly supplanted by a branding burn that spread across his body. Jorish felt pain increase over and over across his body as he groaned, still too confused and muddled to understand what was going on.

He felt his eyelids loosen as he started to regain his awareness. He cracked his eyes open as memories flooded through his mind. He finally understood, he was tied on a metallic stake.

Finally, It is my turn to join my family. It is my turn to burn.

Jorish’s barely opened eyes swept through the crowd gathered as they looked at him. He knew that the cities always made a spectacle of such things. To terrify and incite people, nothing was off-limits for them.

The Tyrant’s tyranny was an open secret, everyone knew yet none would dare mention it, lest they join him and many others who were burned for even lesser “crimes”. Jorish cursed the Tyrant and his tyranny. How many lives were ruined? How many more have to be? Just… why?

His mind raced through the last few hours he could remember. He thought about the mysterious foreigner and his companion. He hoped they were alright, it wouldn’t be the first time that innocents got tangled up to be made an example of. He didn’t want those who treated him that well to be harmed for his own mistakes, for his lack of control.

The Tyrant’s actions were merciless and cruel. Not only did they terrify people, but they also reminded them that their lives weren’t the only thing at stake, everything you ever loved could be next if you didn’t stand in line.

Jorish felt the heat and sunlight slowly whisk the life out of him, yet, he knew that he wasn’t going to die. Not yet. Those stakes were designed to let through enough light and heat to let him burn slowly. To let him suffer without accidentally killing him too early.

The Tyrant’s dogs pursued the art of suffering. Driving many before him insane. Not only did they kill them slowly, but they prevented them from taking their own lives to escape the endless torment.

Those people were driven full of regret and fear as they begged and begged. They regretted being born, regretted having the choice to think of opposing them.

Do I regret this?

Jorish’s mind wandered around, it was not an easy question for anyone. Indeed, he had acted rashly. He had held off for many years, yet today was the day he lost it. It was the day he finally lost himself. Or you could say, today was the day he regained himself.

Do I regret this?

He thought once more. He hated the Tyrant, he hated the systems that governed them, he hated everything in their lives. That lifeless survival that they called a life. Yet, most of all, he hated himself.

Do I regret this?

Did he hate himself because he lost control? He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t sure, he knew. He hated his own weakness. His inability. He wished to be like the dust of Vathlauss, The Grandshine, or even that trash, the Tyrant. If he wasn’t irrelevant, pointless, and scared to even breathe. If only he could do anything.

Do I regret this?

Jorish finally knew the answer. It was all clear in his mind.

No.

I refuse this.

I refuse to accept this.

I refuse this bullshit.

I won’t survive this day.

But I REFUSE to bow down.

If I were to burn, I will do it on my terms.

Let it be said that in this pointless, waste of life.

I had at least a moment I was not a coward.

A moment I can be proud of as I meet my ancestors on the other side.

- - - - -

Jorish stood, tied to his stake. It has been hours, his pain was unbearable. Every few moments, his eyes scanned the ever-increasing crowd. To his surprise, he could not hear any of the cheers and jeers that would be in a burning. Instead, everything was all replaced by an eerily quiet.

He could guess why. He was there, tied to the stake. Yet he stood proud and tall, his head as high as he humanly possible with his shackled body. He could hear his flesh sizzle as the scalding metallic stake burned him. The sound of his sweat boiling out, the sound of him getting cooked in his own flesh and bones.

He looked at the crowd as many of them turned their heads, unable to take it, the way it felt. Normally the begging and crying would cover all those sounds, all those sights. The sights of them dropping low, thrashing around and then not moving as they lost all hope just before their inevitable death. The sounds of their wordless sobbing as they lost the ability to scream or beg.

But he hung there, motionless. He didn’t let his body fall, he had no hope, but he wasn’t hopeless. He saw death but he didn’t beg, nor did he scream.

He suffered in silence as the fear, pain, and suffering evaporated from his eyes, leaving two emotions only.

Defiance and rage

Hours went by. He waited as the time of his death approached closer, he felt surprised. He didn’t feel glad for death. He didn’t wish for his suffering to end. He wished to suffer there, for eternity, to keep this moment of defiance for as long as he could.

He never thought that he would have anger cloud his thoughts and judgment, yet it did. Eventually, as minutes went by, the rest of the guards gathered around the stake, 100 men in all, armed with their armor and spears.

He turned his head slightly, as he locked his eyes with the person walking towards him. He saw the mayor of the city with a wicked smile. A practitioner, He knew. He could barely glance at the mayor’s hand seeing the glint of a golden ring adorned by a small ruby. He knew that was the artifact the mayor used to control the eye of Zeltol.

But that didn’t matter.

He had not reached a sufficient stage in energy cultivation to know how to use that artifact. Nor could he even move to get to that ring regardless, tied and thrashed as he was.

Time went by as he waited for his death, he knew that it would all end when the sun reached its zenith. The cities were ruled by strict rules, their preciseness and cruelness keeping them safe. They would never appear hurried, whether they are executing a lowly thief or the leader of the resistance. It would always be the same.

Waiting for the inevitable, he heard as noise was drawn from the sheath of silence, that silence that people kept in respect. He saw as the crowds dispersed in panic. Jorish eyes shifted as he glimpsed a familiar green cloak. That sight on its own didn’t unravel him. He regretted that his new friends would feel guilty over what happened when it was all his fault. He looked as Traves stood there, Air roaring around him as his cloak fluttered.

Then, Jorish felt his breath freeze, his eyes shuddering. They froze as he stared at Traves’ figure. His body shook as he looked at Traves’ hands, at his sword, long and thin.

His sword was as black as the night’s sky, curved at its end. Its edge shone green with an outworldly light. The light drifted as if it went on a voyage to some distant land. The shadow of two blue globes shone behind him, indistinguishable yet unmistakable.

Jorish felt as words played in his mind, of memories he would never forget.

The voyage they called it. Thin and long, it was made of darkness. On its tip, it curves as an edge protrudes, like an arrow’s edge, lighting with colors that put the world to shame. The sword’s tip, made from the World’s edge, stands unparalleled. Not much else is known about it, but it is known that by witnessing the voyage, you would never mistake it.

The guards took notice of the commotion, getting into position to stop the fool who tried to challenge the lord of the Zelton, to challenge their might. Traves stood still, enjoying the breeze, “I don’t suppose you would be welcoming the idea of talking this out, Would you?”

Jorish watched as Traves was interrupted by a few metallic clings. He stood still as he swung his sword, deflecting a few arrows that were thrown at him before exclaiming, smiling. “Well I suppose that was an answer!” Jorish could hear a faint sigh behind Traves.

As he finished talking, he vanished from view. Not a moment had passed before he reappeared in front of the guards. The guards in front reacted in panic, trying to cut him down. Jorish watched as their spears hit air as Traves slipped between them like a gust of wind.

One by one, the guards swung their spears towards the afterimage of Traves as he strolled between them, they would collapse a moment later, their spears broken, their bodies crushed. Yet, Traves kept moving.

Jorish could see it, each step and swipe of his sword broke a spear. Each movement threw a guard to the ground, dodged another and moved him even closer. He had already gone through more than 40 guards without letting them bleed. He danced between tens of soldiers, swam between them without a care in the world. That was power. That was what he had wished for.

Traves stepped forward, finding himself surrounded by five guards swinging their spears, trying to seal off his movement. Yet, Jorish could watch in bewilderment as Traves stepped between them, finding non-existent openings to slowly inching even closer.

Jorish felt his skin shudder as hope resurfaced in his heart, Could I survive this day? However, as soon as the seed of hope was planted, Jorish’s heart sank as he saw the mayor step forward with two men standing next to him.

One of them wore intricate crimson robes that covered his entire body. He held a staff in his hands adjourned with many gems. On his chest he wore a badge adjourned with pictures of flames. The royal advisor he knew, everyone knew what that robe and badge represented. Next to him stood his guard. Wearing equally intricate red armor.

Two Candidates. He wanted to shout and tell Traves to just run. There was no hope to beat two candidates alongside the support from the Eye of Zeltol.

The mayor bowed down low as he begged the advisor. “My lord, May this humble one ask for your assistance while I activate the eye?”

The advisor grunted in disgust as he muttered “Useless.” He turned, holding his staff tighter as he moved to intercept Traves while his guard disappeared, vanishing into the shadows.

The ring on the mayor’s hand started shining as the eye in the skies lit up. Tendrils of light started bunching up as they flowed towards the center, gathering up and getting brighter.

The advisor rushed at the Traves, sending blades of flame from his staff towards him. Traves flickered like the wind as he dodged the first few strikes of the advisor before he raised his sword, parrying the last few.

Seeing that, the advisor’s brows furrowed as his staff started shining red, globes of fire burned around him as they gathered into his staff. The staff started shining brighter, its strikes getting stronger and faster.

As they faced off, staff and sword clashing, wisps of flame danced around them, burning the guards as they turned into waves of flame. Growing from mere wisps into a raging storm before turning to rejoin his staff, boosting its powers even further.

“Useless trash, Join my flames and be useful for once in your lives!” the advisor smiled as he watched the guards on his side burn by his flames.

The firestorm raged and got more and more intense, getting smaller and more concentrated and concrete. The flame's color shifted from red to blue and then white. As the waves got closer, threatening to hit him as they emerged from behind, Traves stepped aside. Finally, all the flames gathered and concentrated on the advisor’s staff, It shone as a wave of white flames filled with the ashes of his men swirled around him and his staff.

The advisor stepped forward as he prepared to strike down Traves. At the same time, the advisor’s guard materialized out of thin air. standing behind Traves’ back as he gripped his dagger. Jorish could see as they surrounded him from the sides, trying to hit him simultaneously to finish him off.

The guard’s dagger shone with the same white shade of the advisor’s flames. Jorish knew instinctively that Traves couldn’t possibly block that dagger. He watched as the guard’s hand flickered, his dagger shifting with the intent to finish off Traves. He closed his eyes as a loud rumble forced his eyes back open.

The guard moved suddenly, redirecting his strike to protect himself as a beam of light thundered behind him, threatening to take his head off.

Cail stood from further behind, his eyes shining bright blue. On his left hand floated a small azure sphere, and on his right, he held a pistol with smoke coming out.

In the guard’s moment of hesitation, Traves resolutely stepped forward as a flash of green shone around him. The raging firestorm suddenly froze, as a counter-current of wind hit it.

The moment the flames froze, Traves lunged with his blade towards the advisor. The advisor tried to block his strike in a momentary panic. As the blade and staff met, Traves smiled as he saw the advisor’s reaction, twisting his blade after blocking his staff before striking again.

Traves’ second strike broke through the storm and forced the staff aside. Traves stepped forward once more, following through with another strike from the opposite side before the advisor could recover, severing the advisor’s arm before Traves pushed him aside. He rushed through the wind to reach the mayor.

The advisor’s guard tried to react and assist the advisor. He was, however, being suppressed as he got interrupted again by Cail’s firing. Traves stood, a few steps away from the mayor. Jorish knew that he was a moment too late, as the energy in the eye reached a critical mass and collapsed into a point. The light shone, less than a moment from firing. Traves shouted.

“ARTIFICATOR”

Cail suddenly sprung into action as his eyes glowed even brighter, the metallic sphere shone brighter as some clicking noises were heard. A veil of blue light sprung around Traves as the beam embarked, deafening everyone as the sound of air breaking apart roared around them.

The light left a void of destruction all around the battlefield. Filling the world with a cloud of dust and flesh. In the proximity of the impact, both the advisor and the guard were thrown aside. The guard was injured and the advisor crippled.

Moments later the light stopped, as the mayor laughed maniacally. He spoke between his laughter. “You fools who decided to challenge my might and my eye in his city are no more. You got what you deserved, and now I will finish the prisoner off with this the commotion dealt with!”

The mayor he reeled in his success as Jorish noticed gusts of wind blowing, the mayor paused for a moment, confused, as he looked around. The mayor looked down as lines of red appeared all across his body. A moment later, he disappeared into a dust of flesh and blood as a storm of blades dissected every part of him. Behind him, the traveler stood up as he walked towards the crippled advisor. He pointed the sword towards him as he got closer. He smiled as the advisor shuddered in fear.

“Tell your boss, tell Maketh.” Traves paused before continuing, smirking as the adviser shook.

“A Traveller’s in town”