Kota sat on the front steps of the inn, watching as people bustled about to repair the damage from the attack. Aona stood next to him, leaning over the wooden railing of the front porch. For someone who had almost met her maker last night, she was surprisingly energetic.

“What happened last night?” Kota asked, stroking his chin. All he remembered was the bear demon smashing Aona into the ground. The strange burst of energy inside him and how Aona had survived were both mysteries to him.

“It’s the Wandering!” shouted a voice from just outside the gate of the town. “The stars have blessed us! One of the Wandering has arrived!”

“Aona, come over here,” said Kota. The Wandering was the name given to the regiment of super soldiers who patrolled the land. They were not assigned any specific duties; they simply roamed the land in search for place in need of help, hence their name. The purpose of their creation was the elimination of all demons. Needless to say, it would not be wise for Aona to show herself.

However, Aona had other ideas. She sprang off the railing of the front porch and dashed towards the gate of the village, where a small crowd was forming. Cursing, Kota had no choice but to go after her.

Once they were in the middle of the crowd, Kota was finally able to get a hold of Aona. He managed to slip the hood of her cloak over her head after giving her a piece of bread as a bribe, courtesy of the villagers. Semi-satisfied with her disguise, Kota glanced through the crowd at the Wandering.

At the entrance of the inner gates stood a group of three people, one man and two women. The man was tall, towering over almost everyone in the village. He wore a bright white cloak that made his pale skin seem even paler. His shoulder-length blond hair was slicked back and tucked neatly behind his ears. At his waist was one of the legendary swords of the Wandering. Forged by the greatest blacksmiths in the land, these blades were custom made for each of the Wandering, guaranteed to cut the toughest material and resist breaking outside of extraordinary circumstances.

The two women were not members of the Wandering. Due to the almost mythical status of the Wandering, people flocked to their sides to become assistants. The two assistants were both dressed scantily and gave each other sideways glares every few moments. Kota suspected they were not real assistants.

“Thank the stars you’ve come!” said Kip, standing at the forefront of the crowd. “We didn’t think ya heard our cries for help!”

“Have no fear,” said the member of the Wandering, voice smooth as silk. “The demons won’t dare return after I’m done with them.”

As the crowd murmured with excitement, the member of the Wandering’s eyes scanned over the mass of people. As the man did so, his eyes met Kota’s for an instant, widening. Kota cursed under his breath and lowered his head. I know him!

“Kota!” called the member of the Wandering. “Kota! Is that you?”

The crowd hushed and began parting as man approached Kota. Kota tried to take a step back, but the mass of people behind him prevented him from moving. Aona clutched at the back of his tunic with her little hands.

The tall man came to a stop in front of Kota. With nowhere to move, Kota had no choice but to look up at meet the eyes the man. The man’s brilliant green eyes stared down at the dull brown eyes of Kota, haughty and confident.

“By the stars, imagine meeting you here!” said the member of the Wandering. “Missing arm and everything!”

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Kota’s mouth twisted with contempt. “Hello, Francis.”

Francis returned the sneer. “You look tired, old friend.”

“And you look like you’re not tired enough,” said Kota. “You should’ve been here earlier.”

“Watch your mouth,” spat Francis. He raised his voice so the crowd could hear. “I’m not the one who got kicked from the Wandering for murdering his own sister!”

The crowd gasped and hushed whispers were exchanged.

“That’s right!” said Francis. “Those in the Wandering once called this man a genius! Turns out he’s nothing more than scum.”

“That man is our savior!” shouted Kip, stomping up to face Francis. The short, stocky young man was a full head and a half shorter than Francis.

“That man killed his own sister, peasant,” Francis said, staring down his nose at Kip.

Kip paused for a moment, then turned to look back at Kota. “That true?”

Kota lowered his head. “…I was responsible for the death of my sister.”

Kip stared at Kota for a moment. “Ah…is that so…”

Abruptly, Kip whirled around and threw a fist at Francis. Francis, with the grace of a swan, side-stepped the blow.

“Kip!” several village people cried.

“I used ta look up to the Wandering,” said Kip, taking up a fighting stance. “Ya don’t have ta worry, big bro! I can tell from yer face it’s not the whole story!”

Francis stared at Kip’s fighting stance for a moment. Then he burst into laughter. Behind him, his companions began chiming in with their own giggles.

“I don’t want to fight you, peasant,” said Francis, wiping tears from his eyes. “That would be a waste of both of our time.”

“Say what?” roared Kip.

“But you, Kota…” said Francis, licking his lips. “Let’s spar, just like we used to.”

“Don’t ignore me!” Kip shouted, lunging at Francis.

Without even glancing in Kip’s direction, Francis grabbed Kip by the face and slammed him into the ground, all in one fluid motion. In an instant, Francis shifted his grip to Kip’s neck, squeezing with an iron grasp. Kip batted at the arm holding him down to no avail.

Kota’s right stump pulsated with pain and his left hand curled into a first.

Francis looked up at Kota, eyes dead serious. “Come. Let me show you something the masters never taught you.”

Kota had had enough. Fighting off the weariness in his body, he aimed a kick at Francis’s head. Francis hopped backwards, finally releasing Kip’s neck. Kip coughed and gagged, gasping for breath. Several of the villagers reached down to help him up.

Kota stared Francis down. If I recall correctly, he’s strong but not too fast. If I put him in a pinch, he’ll panic.

“What’s wrong?” taunted Francis. “You -”

Kota launched his attack. He darted forward, swinging his fist at Francis’s face. Francis smirked at the obvious attack, lifting his arms to parry. Right before he made contact with Francis, Kota switched the trajectory of his blow from forward to up. His fist glanced off of Francis’s forearm, forcing Francis to take a step back.

That’s when Kota used the speed that he had always been praised for. In an instant, he dropped into a crouch and exploded forth, aiming a blow at Francis’s midsection. Kota knew that Francis was tall – because he was leaning back from Kota’s first punch, there was no way Francis could parry in time.

Francis vanished.

What?

A first rammed into Kota’s abdomen, knocking all the air from his lungs. Gasping, Kota staggered backwards, only to get another first in the face. He wildly raised his arm to protect himself, but a third punch from Francis blew past his guard, catching him on the chin and knocking him onto the ground.

Kota lay on his back, wheezing for air. He felt blood trickling from his nose and his ribs ached every time he breathed. Francis towered over him, face twisted with disappointment. In the hazy air of midday, the sun’s rays made it seem like the space around Francis was waving and flickering, almost like an aura. When Kota blinked, the illusion was gone.

“You’re a failure, Kota,” said Francis. “Get out of this town before you embarrass yourself further.”

Francis turned and began walking away. Kota hauled himself into a sitting position, still panting from the fight. Behind him, he heard a low growling. Aona had walked forward, fangs bared and yellow eyes fixed on Francis’s turned back.

Kota stopped her with a hand, impeding any further movement. Glancing up at Francis’s receding back, Kota pounded his fist into the ground and squeezed his eyes shut. In his years training with the masters of the Wandering, Kota had sparred with Francis many times. He had never lost.

But things were different now, and the sad truth burned through Kota, reigniting desires and frustrations that he had locked away after he had left the Wandering.

I can’t beat him.