I

Nazeir rode alone on his horse, the days and nights passing by like fleeting shadows. He journeyed through towns of stones and muddy villages; the landscape changing in each destination. As the sun painted the blue sky with hues of orange, he stumbled upon a group of weary travellers resting on the side of the road. Four men sat on the grass around a crackling campfire. As Nazeir passed them, one man called out to the swordsman.

"There's a checkpoint blocking the road," the man shouted. "It takes hours to cross the Kwalai River if you want to."

Intrigued, Nazeir halted his horse and turned to face the man who had called out to him.

"Come here. Share the fire with us," said the eldest of the group, waving for Nazeir to come closer.

Nazeir dismounted and approached the campsite, leading his horse by the reins.

"Checkpoint?" he questioned as he drew near to the flickering flames.

"We spent a lot of time just crossing the Kwalai River a few days ago. These soldiers ask your name, intentions of crossing the river, the usual stuff," the man explained, rotating his wrist.

"That doesn't sound usual at all," Nazeir replied, his curiosity piqued. “Why is that?”

"West Batunn and East Batunn have a… let’s say ‘violent’ history, despite their kinship. These border skirmishes have grown bloodier each time. The villages near the borders have fallen victim to these sorties by Kazym and Brindorum.”

Nazeir tied his horse to a solitary tree nearby and joined the group, sharing the warmth of the fire with them. The youngest among them gaped at the swordsman's massive physique, but Nazeir paid little attention to the teenager's awe and engaged in the conversation.

"Since you're here, allow me to introduce ourselves,” he placed his hand on his chest. “I am Aldi," said the elderly man. "The one with the wounded eye is Abim. Then we have Ade, and the youngest among us is Royyan," he pointed to each brother.

"Pleasure," Nazeir nodded politely.

"So, did you ride from the eastern road? Few travellers use that road, let alone East Batunn's soldiers. It's muddy and unfit for carts to pass," Aldi scratched his curly white hair before continuing. "Many stories have emerged from that cursed road. We recently heard about a village where children have gone missing."

"Could it be a demon preying on humans?" the scarred brother snickered.

"What about demens?" the youngest brother, Royyan, chimed in raising his head in glee.

"Enough about demons and such. We have a guest here. Tell us, where are you headed?" Aldi inquired, leaning toward Nazeir.

"West. I'm going back home," he answered while observing the fire.

"So you're not a Northerner? Sorry, I thought you were one. Because… you know. Tall, brown hair and everything,” Aldi described Nazeir.

“I almost lived all my life here in the South. What about you?” he opened his palms to the warmth of the fire.

“We’re islanders. But never mind that,” he changed the discussion. “My brothers and I are heading to West Batunn. We're planning to visit the battlefield and perhaps scavenge what we can from the skirmish. Then we'll sell our loot to the right people at the right places."

"For example?" Nazeir prodded.

"A 'good' blacksmith will pay handsomely for cold steel. As far as I can tell, they care little or not at all about how we come by the steel," Royyan explained.

"Of course, they don't care," Ade agreed. "They're blacksmiths. To them, steel is steel. There's no law against looting swords or shields from a battlefield."

"Right," Abim smirked, pointing to Ade. "Do you know what King Béla said after his coronation? He issued forty-five long lists of senseless laws that I had to read while in the army. Among them were laws against looting the battlefield, claiming that it belonged only to the army."

"Were you in the Army of Kazym?" Nazeir asked.

"In those days, yes. I served as the Sergeant of the fifteenth army, under László's command when I joined,” Abim smiles and face the fire when he recalls the past. “That was before he started licking Béla's boots,” then the smile fades.

"And now Béla is dead," Ade mused. "Let's hope King Andruss won't bore us with another thousand-page text that tells us nothing."

The brothers nodded in agreement, and for a moment, the crackling flames were the only sound filling the night air. Suddenly, the teenager hesitated, as if taking back his words.

"What's the matter?" Nazeir watched Roy. "Do you have something to say?"

"Where did you find that sword?" Royyan's eyes fixed on Nazeir's blade. Barely old enough to hold a sword, he couldn't help but be fascinated by the sight. "You're not an ordinary traveller, are you?"

Abim and Aldi turned their attention to Nazeir's sword as well, their curiosity piqued.

"It's not just the sword, but... you're wearing armour too under that cloak, and a dagger on your thigh," Royyan pointed. "Only certain people would carry such weapons."

"And what are you trying to imply?" Abim's voice sharpened.

"He's not a traveller, Abim. Could he be... a spy?" Royyan murmured with his head lowered.

"Nonsense! What would there be to spy on us? We're not soldiers or mainlanders," Ade scoffed.

The man with the injured eye stopped lifting his spoon, and the once-crackling fire now filled the night with silence. He stared at Royyan, then turned his gaze to Nazeir, his eyes fixed on the swordsman's face.

“What is it?” Nazeir raised an eyebrow.

Abruptly, Abim jumped up and charged at Nazeir.

Abim pushed the swordsman to the ground and began pummelling him, aiming furious blows at his face. Nazeir shielded himself with his hands, enduring the attack.

Reacting swiftly, the other brothers rushed to restrain Abim, attempting to pull him away from Nazeir's grip. Despite their efforts, Abim's strength seemed unmatched, as the brothers could not control him. As the situation escalated, Nazeir seized an opportunity to retaliate, landing a blow on Abim's face. The attack caused him to stagger backwards and collapse on the ground.

Before Abim could regain his footing, Nazeir jumped on his back and performed a choke which brought him to sleep.

As the dust settled, Abim lay unconscious on the earth. Nazeir released his grip and looked at the shocked brothers.

As the dust settled, Abim lay unconscious on the earth. Nazeir released his grip and looked at the shocked brothers, who now surrounded their fallen comrade.

"I didn't want to hurt him," Nazeir said calmly as he took a step back.

The brothers exchanged worried glances as they tended to Abim.

“Is he okay?” Royyan pressed his ear to Ade’s chest, listening to his heart.

“He is okay,” Nazeir turned to the other brothers to assure his safety.

“I’m sorry, about that,” he bowed slightly to Nazeir. “What did I tell you about talking with people? Manners! You just have to accuse,” Aldi flicked Royyan’s ear.

“I’m sorry!” he began to tear up.

“Can you help us bring him over to the fire?” Ade asked Nazeir.

II

Silent night. Three brothers were already asleep, leaving Aldi and Nazeir standing guard by the campfire. Aldi held a bottle in his hand, taking occasional sips, while Nazeir spent his time staring into the mesmerising dance of flames. He could feel the warmth and heat radiating from the fire as the smoke faded into the night sky, adorned with a tapestry of hundreds of twinkling stars.

Aldi lifted the bottle and offered a drink to Nazeir, who politely declined with a faint smile. The old man chuckled, a hint of drunkenness in his voice.

"When you joined us, you refused good warm food and a good night's sleep. At least if you can appreciate what we do, just drink from the bottle. Or, if you want more, just grab from the cart,” Aldi pointed to the cart with the bottle in his hand.

"I don't want to drink right now. Besides, people like me get by with little sleep," Nazeir replied.

"Why so? Allergies to sleep?" Aldi smirked, his words slightly slurred.

"I'll tell you something people won't know while you're drunk.”

"And what is it?" his eyes struggling not to close.

"I'm a purger,” Nazeir whispered.

Aldi was silent for a moment, his eyebrows raised, and then he let out a quiet laugh. He tried to contain his mirth but ended up falling on the ground, laughing wholeheartedly.

“Those are just fairy tales,” his eyes watered.

"But it's true!" Nazeir raised his voice slightly.

"Are you hunting sorcerers?" Aldi chuckled, still amused by the idea.

"Funny?" Nazeir crossed his arms.

"Yes," Aldi said, his laughter subsiding. "I thought it was funny," he wiped the tears.

The two exchanged a smile, and Aldi took another sip from the bottle.

"It's surprising that a man like you isn't dead yet. Especially when you strangled Abim to sleep? That's something I've never seen before!" he said, still in disbelief. "He's the only one who can protect us from all kinds of beasts or hordes of criminals. That military training seems to have helped us more than it helped him," he remarked, taking another sip. "Tell me, how did you learn it? Are you part of the military too?" Aldi inquired, tilting his head slightly. "Is my dear little brother right about you being a spy?" he added, his voice growing quieter.

Nazeir remained silent, contemplating his response.

"If you are not a soldier or a spy, who are you? What is your job? A hunter who only uses his sword to kill his prey?" Aldi guessed, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "No? What about a knight who fell from his grace, now living on the street just to survive the... greed and evil people in the palace?"

“I think it’s better for you to rest,” Nazeir placed his arms on Aldi’s shoulder.

"Maybe,” Aldi brushed Nazeir’s hand away. “And maybe the last one sounds too much like a tale," Aldi raised his head watching the stars. "If you're neither of them, perhaps you're lost. You shouldn't be here, perhaps you don't know what to do..." Aldi frowned looking at Nazeir. "Just like me, but not them," he murmured, glancing at his sleeping brothers. "Especially Roy. That kid has a bright future, I know that. Unlike his eldest brother. I still have about five to ten years left. My wife and children... they are everything to me. Now I have nothing left,” his shoulder weakened. “Only them,” he watched his brothers sleep. “If I were to end it here, a drop of alcohol would get the job done," the eldest brother turned to Nazeir. "Listen, friend. Fill your free time with your family, friends are just around the corner. We don't know when we will leave them or the other way around; family is precious. Don't make the same mistake as me. Because I'm lost."

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Nazeir listened intently to Aldi's heartfelt words while watching the empty road.

“To be honest, I don’t even know-” Nazeir turned to Aldi.

Aldi took one last gulp from the bottle before finally collapsing, overcome by the effects of alcohol.

Nazeir watched over the campfire, the flames dancing in his eyes as he reflected on the night's conversation. As the embers slowly dwindled, the purger continued to keep his vigil, lost in thought.

III

Birds flew overhead, their melodious chirping accompanying Nazeir as he stood near the four sleeping siblings. The crackling campfire offered a gentle warmth that caressed his face. Deciding not to disturb their slumber, he mounted his horse and continued towards the military checkpoint at the banks of the Kwalai River.

The road ahead lay deserted, not a soul in sight, only an expanse of open fields. As he neared the river, he spotted the remnants of a former campsite in the distance. A sizable group had left behind hundreds of dishevelled footprints.

"A large enough place for thousands of soldiers. Abandoned for a few days. The open plains offer a clear view, may prevent potential surprise attacks. Night raid," Nazeir mumbled, examining the signs more closely. "Caught off-guard, perhaps during the night."

Following the trail to the river, he hoped to find soldiers who could provide more information. Nearing a large stone bridge spanning the river, he found no one guarding it. As he crossed the bridge and ventured into the surrounding forest, the only company he found was a chorus of birds and playful squirrels. Emerging from the forest, he finally encountered a group of soldiers on horseback in the distance.

"Stop! Who are you?" one soldier called out as Nazeir approached.

"Traveller," Nazeir replied shouting, keeping a safe distance.

"Wait there!" The soldier signalled for him to halt and conversed with his companions at a distance.

After what felt like hours, a soldier on horseback approached him.

"Follow me," he commanded.

They rode together towards a checkpoint, and upon reaching the site, Nazeir was led into a small tent where a man in shining armour sat, engrossed in writing a letter. He looked up at Nazeir, and a sudden strong odour caught his attention.

"Traveller returning from East Batunn," Nazeir replied calmly.

"The purpose of going there?" the man returned to his writing.

"Searching for work."

The man paused as he glanced at Nazeir.

"There's plenty of work in West Batunn. Go there and see for yourself,” he placed both of his hands on the table. “We don't want you collaborating with those eastern villains," he pointed to Nazeir.

"So, may I pass now?" Nazeir asked.

"No, we'll wait for the marshal to come here," the man explained, returning to his writing. “Go wait outside,” he ordered without looking at him.

As Nazeir stepped out of the tent, he continued to wait for the marshal's arrival. Soon, a man on horseback approached the checkpoint at great speed. Dismounting, he strode into the tent and then turned to the purger.

"Master Nazeir?" the man asked.

"Robert. Nice to meet you here," Nazeir greeted him with a handshake.

"Likewise, master," Robert replied with a smile behind his thick moustache. "What are you doing in this place? I haven’t since you since…"

"I'm back from Brindorum. Looking for work in the east, maybe those people have something that requires my special skills," Nazeir explained with excitement.

Robert placed his hands on his hips, "I hope you did nothing that would harm us," he said with a hint of teasing.

"No, Robert," Nazeir shook his head, laughing.

"Wonderful. Then I'll see you later, master. Excuse me, I need to meet someone," he entered the tent.

Left outside, Nazeir overheard the discussion inside the tent, which sounded like a heated debate. After a while, the two men emerged from the tent, glancing at the purger who stood patiently.

"Fine, you can go now. Find your job in the capital," Robert winked. "And never cross the border again."

Nazeir paid little attention to Robert's theatrical words and simply mounted his horse. As he was about to leave, Robert called out again.

"How do I know you won't run from another checkpoint? You will come with me." Robert mounted his armoured horse and rode it next to Nazeir.

"Marshal, I will send two of my bodyguards to help if something bad happens on the way back," the knight called.

"That is unnecessary, my lord. You will need the manpower here."

Robert looked straight ahead, and the two of them set off together. As they rode side by side, Nazeir glimpsed at the marshal.

"That's unneeded, Robert. All the drama."

"Perhaps. The knights and dukes of today think they're tough, a proper work of art. These prima donnas don't know what, how, or when to be tough," joked Robert. "So, what's going on in the East over there?" Robert asked with curiosity.

"Like I said. I looked for a job, and I couldn't find anything,” Nazeir shrugged.

"It doesn't look like it," Robert pointed at Nazeir's neck, revealing the scar from the sorceress. "Then what is this? It looks like a claw."

"This? It's been around for a long time. It's healing itself," Nazeir rubbed the owl scar.

"Such a shame for me. I wish I had such a gift to heal rapidly," he took a deep breath and released it.

"So, about the checkpoint," Nazeir changed the subject.

"We're talking about checkpoints now, master?"

"Are they working against the Brindorian army?" Nazeir faced forward to the road.

"I hope so. Any break-ins or sabotage have not affected us. Maybe we can avoid many unnecessary incidents,” Robert spoke with his chest puffed.

"What about news on sorcerers’ activity?" Nazeir asked.

“No reports of sorcerers in the kingdom or Batunn. But if there are any, we can handle it,” he clenched his fist.

“Don’t do that. I can lose my job,” he faced the bald marshall.

“Why not lay back for a while? Kazym can use your abilities later on."

"I can’t do that. My life is only about making money from war or hunting sorcerers,” Nazeir counted with his hand. “But the war is the main thing.”

"It's kind of hard to think of having a job like yours. Especially before ending those northerners," Robert paused. "Have you ever thought about the sorcerers you killed? Like, if you were going to kill someone who was a father, or a mother, or a daughter?"

"All sorcerers I’ve met are the same. I never tried to think about it," Nazeir answered with a stern face.

"I never knew about the life of being a purger. Until now, I still don't understand your mental and physical experiences when you face them. And I’m even talking about the demons and demens," Robert looked at Nazeir. "Do you remember when you became a purger?"

"Yes, and I'd rather not talk about it."

IV

"Almost there. Last stop," said Robert.

The two men approached rows of tents, where a soldier stood watch on the tower. The small garrison appeared disciplined as they noticed Robert's presence with Nazeir. Several off-duty soldiers stared curiously at Nazeir as they passed by with their marshal. Nazeir couldn't help but notice the glances directed his way.

"Robert?" Nazeir called.

"Master?" the bald marshall answered.

"Are you sure you don't need my skills?" he asked, feeling a hint of disappointment.

The marshal raised his left hand, declining the offer, and shook his bald head.

"You have bones of steel. But for now, we don't need that, master. We've handled it well," he replied and watched his men in the camp. "There is no sorcerer’s threat lately. But that doesn't mean we don't need your help at all. There may be opportunities later. Right now, we're waiting for our reconnaissance party to return."

Nazeir lowered his head, understanding the situation.

"Shame. Perhaps I can go somewhere else after this," he observed the open green plains in disappointment.

"After this? You don't plan to go back to your men?" Robert asked, leaning forward, his eyes widening with curiosity as he awaited an answer.

The two men paused as they approached a small wooden barricade blocking the path. The soldiers courteously moved the barricade aside, making way for Nazeir.

"I am. But I won't stay for long. I might venture east again, or head north," Nazeir answered, his tone tinged with doubts, as if uncertain about his future path.

"Under what occasion?" Robert inquired.

"You ask a lot of questions, Robert," Nazeir remarked with a faint smile.

"I just want to know. I won't push it. Since we are here," he offered a handshake, "may your journey be swift and well. I'm sorry I can't accompany you much further."

"Thank you, Robert," Nazeir nods.

"Goodbye, sir. Have a safe and sound journey," Robert gave a salute.

Nazeir left the checkpoint, and continue his path alone.

V

The purger pressed on with his journey as the dark clouds loomed overhead, and the distant cries of thunder echoed through the air. The storm was closing in, but Nazeir was undeterred, determined to reach his destination. In the distance, he spotted a man riding a horse at breakneck speed towards him. It was one of Kazymir’s soldiers, clearly in a hurry. Without sparing a second glance, the soldier rode past Nazeir, heading straight for the military checkpoint that the purger had recently passed.

As the rain poured down, Nazeir's armour quickly became heavy and cumbersome. Despite the discomfort, he didn't allow the rain to hinder him.

A short distance away from the checkpoint, the sounds of battle pierced through the storm's din. The purger sensed that something was wrong and spurred his horse towards the source of the commotion. The screams of soldiers and constant loud thumps grew more intense as he approached. Through the veil of rain, he witnessed a horrifying sight - a vast encampment of Kazymir soldiers, surrounded by a massive wooden wall, was under attack. But this wasn't an ordinary assault by humans. Nazeir's body felt a gentle pull towards them.

"Magic," Nazeir’s eyebrow furrowed.

Before him, trees from the nearby forest came to life, walking on two legs like bipeds, and attacked the soldiers on guard. Stones carved as soldiers dug themselves out from the ground, rendering the Kazymir soldiers' iron swords useless against them. The purger watched in disbelief as the magical assault unfolded.

As the chaos ensued, a group of horsemen, led by Robert, approached the scene from behind. Robert and his bodyguards observed the dire situation with horror. The marshal was at a loss for words, unsure of what to do.

"Care to tell me what is going on?" Nazeir asked Robert calmly, even in the face of such overwhelming terror of battle.

"We did nothing. I thought you would know," Robert replied in a panic.

"I feel a powerful pull. Not just any basic magic here," Nazeir paused, facing the battle, considering the dire situation.

Thinking quickly, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a small vial containing oil.

“What are you doing?” the marshall noticed the vial.

Nazeir smeared the sword with the oil thoroughly before using a flint from the horse’s bag and creating a spark. The sword burst into flames, undeterred by the pouring rain.

"Burn the trees! Gather your men, marshal!" Nazeir's voice resonated with conviction as he rode into battle with his blazing sword leading the way.

The purger joined the fight, charging amid the soldiers who were struggling against the magical forest creatures. Spotting one of the giant tree creatures, Nazeir rode towards it, wielding his fiery sword with fierce determination. Bringing the blade down upon the giant's leg, he cut through the sturdy trunk like a hot knife through butter. The giant roared before falling motionless.

The Kazymirian soldiers quickly set the fallen giant ablaze with oil and fire. However, to their shock, the giant was not defeated so easily. With a mighty roar, it knocked all the soldiers off its body and attempted to extinguish the flames.

As Nazeir turned his attention to the other giants, the creatures regrouped to block his path. But help arrived as fireballs and catapults. The projectiles targeted the giants, causing them to move away from Nazeir, who skilfully manoeuvred past the fallen creatures and entered the forest behind them.

Within the forest, the sounds of battle and rain faded away, replaced by an eerie silence. Nazeir dismounted his horse, feeling the fresh air against his skin. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, and a sense of peace settled over him. The sudden shock of battle disappeared as Nazeir experienced the peacefulness of the forest full of life. The purger sheathed his flaming sword, and it extinguished once inside.

He approached a small pond, catching his reflection - a bearded man in his early thirties staring back at him. As he gazed into the water, he heard the soft rustling of sandals on grass. Nazeir swiftly unsheathed his sword, reigniting the flames.

An old man appeared, using a tree branch as a makeshift staff as he crossed the pond. His long clothes concealed his entire body, and he walked with an air of wisdom.

"It's just a pond," the old man spoke hoarsely. "There's nothing special about it."

The purger remained cautious, pointing his sword at the stranger.

"Who are you?" Nazeir prepared his stance.

The old man tilted his head, eyeing the flaming sword. As their gazes met, the fire on the sword immediately extinguished. Stunned, Nazeir took a defensive stance.

"You showed your abilities. Who exactly are you? I felt powerful magic here. Is it you?" Nazeir kept backing away from the approaching man.

"I’m no mage, sorcerer, or magician. I’m just like you. But a different path. Where people gave you power, nature and its gifts gave me," the old man extended his arms.

"Were you the one who attacked the camp?" Nazeir held his ground.

The old man remained silent, observing the purger with an air of arrogance. Nazeir raised an eyebrow, ready for any move the stranger might make. Suddenly, the old man extended his hand towards the tip of Nazeir's sword. The sword instantly rusted. Nazeir immediately released the grip in shock as the rust began to spread to the hilt.

“What!?” Nazeir gasped.

While staring at his sword on the ground, the old man took a step closer and pushed him to the pond. As he fell, the pond turned out to be a deep blue sea. It grabbed him deeper and deeper until lights cannot even travel to that depth.

The darkness of the sea suddenly revealed a bright exit. Nazeir let the pull of the sea bring him to the light. Once he passed it, the purger fell from the sky. He closed his eyes and curled his body, preparing for an impact.