Doctor Jones continued, saying, “Is there something in particular that makes you happy? Or is there a particular story that you'd like to tell? Whatever it is, it's okay to share, and you can always go back to talking about what's been troubling you before as well if you feel ready.”

The doctor felt happy at the change of topic, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t listen to her patient’s troubles. Agan seemed to finally be at peace of mind.

“...Well, no particular thing really makes me happy anymore, I think. However, let me think about what to talk about…” His eyes became dazed. “...Yes. Emia. Let’s talk about Emia. To put it simply, they're a country that found us. I'll admit, they were quite kind–but with good always comes bad...well, I'll focus on the bad later.”

“Okay, let's talk about Emia.” The doctor said, interested in this country. “What in particular makes them stand out? Does your community have many stories about them? Are there any specific interactions or events between your community and Emia that you think are the most impactful, either in a good way or a bad way?”

Agan tapped his armrest in thought. “To be honest, none of us but the Village Chief knew how to talk to them. I learned how, after a while, but I still wonder how he was able to do so effortlessly...the country itself was much greater than our village, for sure.” The man smiled as he remembered. “Technology-wise, that is. They traded their knowledge for our strong warriors, and this one herb we had. It was nice...though, I did find it confusing. I, the Warrior Leader, did understand that there could be those stronger than me, and there were certainly people who were stronger than me. The Village Chief, however...nobody I saw even came close to his power.”

Agan closed his eyes regretfully, but he didn’t sigh. He continued speaking positively about the Village Chief, even if he was the one who had sentenced his brother’s death…it was his responsibility. Agan knew that him wanting Jutan to live came out of his own selfishness.

“It was a shame he was growing too old…who knows how powerful he would’ve been in his prime.”

With a quiet clap, an intrigued Doctor Jones said, “That sounds like quite a good deal for your community. It sounds like you were in the position of a very trusted representative and diplomat for your community—that must have been a very big honor! But…”

She sat upright and leaned forward slightly. Her voice didn’t sound angry nor sympathetic, only curious. The doctor smiled.

“…The village chief sounds like a very interesting character. Can you remember any instances where his power was noticeable, or where he demonstrated some of his power? It must have been a very impressive sight, being that no one else could even come close.”

Agan nodded. “...Yeah. It was quite the nice position, being able to help my village, even with all the things they had done. And...ha!” He rolled his eyes at the very thought, grinning with no harmful intent. “The sight of those guys...well, basically, these people came from Emia and went straight into the village, demanding something…” The man tried remembering, but failed. “I forgot what it was, but they said they were of high positions in Emia–they were fakes, however. Ahh…”

The man sank into the hold of the furniture once more. It was starting to become a habit. The doctor didn’t mind, however.

“...Obviously however, there was no way the Village Chief would allow any of that. It was quite a sight…” He closed his eyes, the tragedy of the past no longer in his mind. He remembered how quickly it was resolved…

-O-O-O-

From above, inside a watchtower of sorts, a young, childish voice called out with duty and excitement towards the ground.

“Warrior Leader! I see some Emians coming in from the forest!”

Agan looked over to the tower, and shouted back. “Understood! Also, get down there! It’s dangerous for kids like you!” His tone was also one of duty, though it quickly changed to a lecturing one.

“Okay!” The child went down the ladder, and Agan smiled at the sight. A village stayed near the ladder just in case.

The man took out a sheathed iron sword from the insides of his house, and with no struggle, he reached onto the top shelf where it lay. The boy inside his home watched with a cautious curiosity as Agan donned his leather armor. The man was quite grateful to the Emians for the iron sword–no longer did he have to replace that awful stone version of his after every single hunt!

As he started walking out, Jaffy ran after him and tugged his sleeve in worry. Agan turned his head towards him.

“...Uncle? Where…” The child struggled to find the word in his memory. “...Where go?”

Agan swiftly rubbed the boy’s head, and spoke softly to him. He knelt down, saying to him, “Uncle’s going to go do some business, Jaffy. Go stay with your aunt.” The kid prepared to say something worriedly, but it died down with the man’s sincere expression. Mala popped out of the corner of her room’s door frame.

“Come on now, Jaffy.” She walked to the child, picking him up. “Let your uncle do his job.” Mala chuckled, bringing him to her room. “Be safe out there!”

“I will, Mala.” Agan said back in reply.

-O-

The village chief eyed the man walking down the road and left him to it. Agan, at the gates of the village, saw five men dressed in the familiar Emian wardrobe he had seen for seasons…something seemed off about them, though, as if they were poorly made.

Agan prepared to speak in Emian, while the one who appeared to lead them smirked. At this sight, Agan felt a vague suspicion.

“Welcome, Emians. What brings you here this time?” Agan said, his voice full of authority. In kind, or not, their leader replied with a lingering hostility.

“Well, you see…” He tapped his foot on the ground a few times. “...something went wrong with the last trade. You didn’t give us enough good herbs for the things we gave–most of them, if not all of them, were rotten!”

His smile turned slightly sinister, and Agan felt something was off.

“...That is odd. I checked them all myself.”

“Well, clearly you did something wrong. I demand to know what’s going on!”

Agan connected his arms together at his chest, not understanding the point. They were still at the gates, but some of the villagers near them could sense the tension beginning to rise. They didn’t need to understand the language for that.

“...We did not do anything wrong,” Agan said, a small doubt forming in his heart. “Rather, are you sure this is true?”

“Of course!” The man shouted grumpily. “Oi, Klande, bring it here. The proof.”

A slightly younger man in comparison to the leader walked behind them, bringing out a very dreadful looking box—said box was perfectly okay, however; it was only the contents that made Agan worry.

‘There’s no possible way…right?’ Agan sweated, but he didn’t sweat out of some kind of primal fear. He didn’t want to go battle against them over something as little as this. There would be too many deaths, too many casualties.

The box opened, and as a result, Agan saw several dead looking herbs. One of the people there smiled, but he quickly changed his expression to anger.

“How will you pay us for this, huh?! These goods we traded for…they’re all dead, damn it!” The man shouted in anguish. “We can’t do anything with this!”

“Impossible…” Agan shifted his eyes to the leader. He thought of the most rational choice, though he hesitated when speaking about it. “…Alright then. We’ll compensate—“

“What’s with all this ruckus here, Agan?”

“…!”

Agan turned towards the voice, and the village chief stood with an eerie calm a few steps behind him. His cane was held in his hands as usual, and one of the Emians scoffed. He must have been underestimating the village chief…something Agan found to be foolish.

“Hey, tell him about it!” The village chief noticed the box and looked at its insides. “Explain this! And if you can’t…you better pay us back—“

“So?” The village chief asked, suddenly speaking in their language.

Agan immediately knew what the village chief was about to do and tried stopping his actions; however, the old man stopped him using his aura…something the Emians didn’t notice.

“What do you mean, ‘so?’”

The village chief smiled with an innocent expression, and his eyes closed.

“So what?”

His cane clacked onto the ground as he stepped forward, and the leader stepped back, but not without coming back forward with aggression.

“Y-you! Don’t you know that—“

“So what?”

The village chief kept his innocent demeanor, and he kept talking at a slow pace. He stopped in front of them, and he stood with his two hands connected on top of his cane. The Emian leader tried to keep his head high to maintain authority, but it was clear who was in charge.

“If the Warrior Leader said we didn’t do anything wrong…we didn’t do anything wrong.” The village chief said, still in the same position, and still in the same innocent expression.

A vein nearly busted in the Emian leader’s forehead. He started to speak, gaining traction from his group members.

“…But, if you don’t, we’ll—“ He hesitated slightly, as if thinking of a suitable threat. “We’ll send down the army for this! All of your villagers will die, you know!”

“Even the children?”

The village chief spoke suddenly, and although he had a beat of sweat popping off his skin, the Emian leader grew confident. He thought the old man spoke in fear.

“Yeah! Even the children—“

“Agan,” the village chief suddenly interrupted in the village language, “Is that child, Kucha, still here?”

The old man’s aura suppression stopped, and cautiously, Agan looked for the kid. He wasn’t there, and had most likely gone to his home.

“…He’s not here, Village Chief.”

The village chief stopped smiling, and out of what seemed to be nowhere, he became serious. Agan was sweating, and he hoped to the best of his ability that the old man wasn’t going to do what he thought was going to do. Alas, his fears…

“So…even the children. Is that right?”

…were confirmed.

The group’s leader shuffled uncomfortably, and he shouted back, “How many times do I have to say it, old man! YES! EVEN THE—“

“Alright, then.” The village chief’s expression turned fatally serious as he interrupted them. “I just hope you realize…”

The village chief threw his cane up into the sky at a high velocity, and the Emians casted a strong shield spell hurriedly. They felt an unprecedented danger in front of them, and Agan sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the chief anymore.

“…yer scaring the children.”

Inside the protective dome, the leader shouted, “The fuck are you saying!?”

The chief was silent, and immediately, he practically teleported in front of their shield by jumping forward at a high speed and instantly broke it. Agan felt awe at the sight, even though he didn’t show it. The men who were inside watched with fear, and they summoned out weak spells of attacks.

‘So this is mana…’ Agan thought to himself as he looked at their flurry of magic. The man couldn’t see it, but he knew for certain it wasn’t connected with the aura he was so familiar with. Someone with a small aura could still use powerful magic spells. He wasn’t worried at all, however—the village chief immediately deflected and parried every single one of them with his bare hands.

As someone shot at him with some kind of contraption—Agan believed the Emians called it a magic gun—the village chief easily caught the stone fired from it at high speeds. If they weren’t fearful of him before, they certainly were now. The old man looked at them with a dark glare.

“YOU—WHO THE FUCK ARE—AGHH!“ A crushing sound promptly waved through the air. Twice.

‘Ouch,’ Agan winced internally. ‘Village Chief, did you really have to break both of his arms?’ Another one screamed in agony, and the rest started to run. ‘Ah, there’s the second…third…fourth…damn!’

It was an astonishing sight. Six of these…well-equipped Emians were toppled by him instantly, and their ways of sorcery did nothing to stop him. Agan was reminded once again to never become a criminal or oppose the chief.

As the village chief caught his cane from the sky, he looked at their bodies with a dark expression. Agan shivered at the way he gazed at their broken limbs, and he spotted the village chief walking to them.

“You can threaten my village however you want…” The old man looked down at the ones who laid on the ground, and put his foot on top of one of their backs. The village chief’s cane practically stabbed into the man’s back.

“...but you will never threaten its children.”

-O-O-O-

“That sounds like a pretty intimidating way to handle the situation! Not a bad idea, if your community was being threatened.” Doctor Jones said as she readjusted her glasses. The mood from before seemed to be long gone now, and a happy air purified the atmosphere of the room.

The doctor asked him, “What happened to the invaders? Did they end up leaving the village, after they got caught in their lie?” Agan basked in the memory, and he thought of an answer. It had been nearly a decade since it had happened, so he needed some time. The doctor, as usual, didn’t mind at all.

“Hah! Those guys, they refused to budge. So the Village Chief took personal action...ah, just so you know,” The man sat up from his seat, intent on letting the doctor know the roles of his village. “...The chiefs of our village were the ones who protected it. I, the Warrior Leader, only had the role of leading others for the hunt…and protect he did...hahaha!”

The man covered his eyes with his arm, and he held back his laughter.

“...Because they refused to budge, the Village Chief beat them up. It was a–well, I probably shouldn't be laughing at this now, but–the sheer difference in power made the sight hilarious! They couldn't even resist!”

The doctor smiled, being infected with his cheer. “Haha! This Village Chief sounds like quite the fighter–he must have been very confident in his own abilities to be able to put such a stop to the invaders! Was he always so assertive and direct, or was he sometimes more tactful and diplomatic, do you think?”

“Well,” Agan said, thinking about it. “He was only like this against those who threatened the peace of the village...that's why everybody was scared of becoming a criminal.” Including Jutan. “Oh!” The man remembered a fact. “Just so you know, the Village Chief was as old as a tree when he fought! They got beaten up by an old man who was 80 somethin' autumns old!”

This time, the image of the village chief in Doctor Jones’ head shook slightly in confusion, but she kept her cool. Still, she wondered how the village chief managed to live until that age. As far as the doctor knew, most humans of that world never lived past 60. There were two exceptions: the person was either extraordinarily strong, or lived the ends of their lives in a time of great peace.

Knowing which world her patient came from made her doubt the latter. Her curiosity made her interested in the village chief, and she just had to reply in awe.

“Now that is a powerful chief!” She shouted quietly, and her curiosity leaked inside her voice. “Do you think he was generally a well-respected leader among your village, or was he more feared than liked? Did the people appreciate him for his fighting skills, even if he wasn't personally the friendliest leader?”

Agan hummed in thought, and he closed his eyes. “...Everyone in general liked him, but…” His mind drifted over to a few specific events, and one of them involved Jutan’s punishment. The man immediately drifted to something else in his mind. “...He was quite scary whenever someone got in trouble. The Village Chief had a reputation of helping out a lot, and as he grew older, he was the one who taught the children stories of our long distant past…ha.” Agan sighed.

“I still wonder,” he said, opening his eyes slowly, “why he cared for the children so much. It was like his–” Agan waved his hands around in confusion. “His life-long dedication. And I know it wasn't malicious intent, either.” The man sat up straighter, but he didn’t arch his back. “Because if it wasn’t, he would’ve been the best fuckin’ actor of all time, and his beliefs were very serious. You would never ever joke around about the children when he was near, else you risked getting a stern lecture. Oh–” Agan blinked a few times again, realizing his mistake. “Sorry. It seems I went away from the topic…”

“No, no,” The doctor said, fully understanding his thoughts, “It’s alright. You can keep going if you want to.”

With a small smile, Agan thanked her. “...Thanks, doctor. Then…as I was saying before, the Village Chief–he really cared for the children of the village.” He closed his eyes for a short moment, and he pondered over what to say next. “...It was practically over for anybody the moment they threatened them. Now I think about it, there was that one phrase he had…” The man laid back on the couch, and he deflated on the piece of furniture.

“...’You’re scaring the children.’ That’s what it was–” Agan seemed to have a sudden realization, and the doctor listened closely because of this change of tone. “That’s what he would always say–I seriously didn’t just see this only now.” The man facepalmed, and the doctor was about to speak up; however, she was interrupted. Not that she minded, of course.

“Okay…okay, anyways,” Agan shuffled a bit, readjusting his sitting position. “Well, of course, there were a few exceptions, but in general…they were pretty rare.” He sighed regretfully. “Anyhow, we did appreciate his skills–though, there was the occasional person who didn’t believe in it. I wouldn’t blame them. Who in their right mind thinks a fragile old man can fight at first glance?”

Agan laid back, stretching his arms in the process. He’d gotten more tired over the years. “Anybody could try becoming village chief if they really wanted to, only that they would have to defeat the village chief–so it was only natural that some cocky idiots thought they’d be able to beat him when he was old.” He shook his head, sighing at their thoughts. “Nope. They lost every single time…” Agan grimaced, and with yet another facepalm, he cursed. “Damn it. Even I was one of them.”

Doctor Jones thought with her hand on her chin, and she said in surprise, “That's quite the reputation—I'm surprised anyone would even try to challenge him!” She knew there could be a few exceptions, but she was surprised to hear it anyway. “Are there any other stories about things he did for the village? Did he make any other decisions or implement any other measures that you thought were particularly clever or thoughtful?”

“Well…” Agan breathed in deeply. “Well. There's certainly quite a few. Too many for me to remember, that's for certain. I…I won't talk about them right now, though. I'm feeling better now, so I think I can talk about the rest of the things bothering me.”

Noticing the pressure in his voice, the doctor tried alleviating it. “That's okay–there's no pressure. Just let me know if you want to talk about any specific stories in the future.” She folded her hands, and the room felt a little warmer. “In what other ways has life been a challenge for you lately? What else has been bothering you, in addition to the passing of your brother?”

Agan felt a pang in his chest at the reminder, but he focused on the topic at hand. “Well…it happened quite a while ago. These guys called "bandits" had arrived near our village, seemingly from Emia…” He sighed. “By this time, I had long fallen from my title of Warrior Leader. I...can't say why yet, but I wasn't exactly in the best state of mind...so when the Village Chief asked me to go see what was up with them, I did what he asked without caring. Well...I did hesitate a bit, but that's what happened…”

Doctor Jones’ curiosity now faded, and she readied herself. With the small pause Agan had, she took the opportunity to ask, “What's the next part that happened? Was there an altercation with the bandits? What happened to make it so troubling for you?”

Agan stayed silent for a short moment. “Well, I’ll admit…I didn't actually care at all about them. When I went to their–well, when I got near their base, their camp inside the green hills, I was tired of everything…but I still tried negotiating with them anyway. Not like that worked…something they said stopped me from my stupor. Suddenly, this situation became something I actually had to care about.” The man grumbled quietly.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“What was it that caused this change in your feelings?” The doctor asked. “What did they say? If you'd rather not talk about it right now, then that's okay too–it can be hard to talk about difficult topics, so it's never a problem if you need some more time before you're ready.”

“It’s alright…it’s just, when I truly found my way inside their hideout...I saw a man. There was...he was a man from OUR village…” Agan’s anger could be felt inside the atmosphere of the room, and his brown eyes flickered in red–a very specific color that would be familiar to him had he seen a mirror.

“…And that traitor…he wasn't only working with them...” Agan said dreadfully, anger seeming to grow from his aura. He grit his teeth.

"He did something far worse than that—things that I will never forget."

-O-O-O-

Blades of grass were swaying in the wind outside the village, and the trees stood firm as ever. There, two men stood a few dozen steps away from the village gates, and both of them had canes. One was elderly, and the other was middle-aged.

“…I know I told ye to do this, but ye don’t really have ta, Agan.”

The middle-aged man sighed. “Village Chief—“

“I gave ya the knowledge of my name. Use it, ‘Warrior Leader.’” The village chief interrupted him, trying to provoke him. He realized Agan was too weak to do anything to him, anyway; he was a little worried last time since he had grown older.

“…I’m too used to calling you by your title…” Agan stiffened, using his best efforts to say the name. “…Lonyu. Agh! It still feels weird!”

“Bear with it. Besides, I’m no longer the village chief, anyways. Haven’t been for half a season.” The old man smiled.

Agan stared at him in shock as the words echoed inside his mind. “…You’re…not? How? There’s no possible way anybody could beat—“

“I swear, why does EVERYBODY forget the fact I have a heir?!” Lonyu shouted in annoyance, his cane digging into the ground. Agan flinched at the anger in his voice. “Agan, you know that I—“ The elderly man coughed a bit, and Agan stared at him once again in shock. “Ugh. Even if I could, I’m growing too old, kid—hell, I’m starting to forget things.” His face darkened, and he muttered, “It’s a pity he wasn’t compatible enough…”

The whispered words flew past Agan’s ears, but he understood the depths behind the previous ones. “…There’s no way your heir is as powerful as you though, right?”

Lonyu sighed angrily, and his aura flickered. “He doesn’t have the talent to wield it! Course he isn’t!” Then, he waved Agan away, and he stopped himself from speaking. “Agh…anyhow, you’ve got places to be. Like I said though, yer sure ye want this? To do this alone?”

Agan stayed silent for a moment, but he spoke, even though he was hesitant. “…Nothing else I can do. I’ve gotten too weak to do anything—I can’t even hunt game anymore.” Agan looked at the distant horizon, and the sun was going up. “I won’t even be able to take care of Jaffy at this rate…this is all I can do.” He looked towards Lonyu. “I’m sure.”

The elderly man sighed, and he turned back, saying, “…Make sure you come back, Agan.”

-O-

Step by step up the small round hills had tired the man. The monotone green of the grass was everlasting, and he cursed. Where in the world were these bandits?

He should have asked for directions when he had the chance. Agan grimaced.

The trees didn’t help at all with the situation, and the man considered dropping his heavy iron sword. After a short contemplation though, he didn’t—even if he couldn’t properly use it, anyway.

Then, in a vague dozen step distance, he laid his eyes on a dirt road. It led both upwards and downwards, but considering where downwards went, he decided to go up. Hopefully, those bandits would be seen soon enough. His legs wouldn’t allow it if they didn’t appear in his sight.

‘…Horse tracks…that’s what they called them in Emia, I think. I’m probably on the right path.’ Agan thought. Luckily for the man, it seemed he was going to be correct as he saw a ragged man in the distance…

“You!” The bandit shouted in Emian, “Who are you!”

Agan, with a very neutral, tired face, spoke up against him. “…I am Agan. I come from the village near here, around the bottom of the village. However…who are you?”

“…Oh. Well, I’m the king of Emia–“

“They don’t have a ‘king.’” Agan interrupted, already confirming in his heart that this man was a bandit. As he observed the man’s aura with his functioning eye, he saw the aura’s color. A light gray in contrast to the many whites of his village. Agan grew cautious.

The man in the distance smirked. “Oh yeah? What would a villager from a poor, poor land know, huuuh?” He walked up against a tree, and the bandit leaned back against the tree, fully intent on provoking him further. “Go on. Since you’re sooo smart, why don’t you tell me that again? Magicless idiot.” He made sure to flash a toothy grin at Agan, and his weapon was clearly shown on the side of his hip.

Agan had no idea what the last two words were, but it was obvious that they were some kind of insult. The man didn’t care at all, however; only three things could get him emotional now, and it’s not like this random bandit would somehow have the power to know.

“That does not matter. I have–” Agan reworded his sentence, and he raised his hand as if to communicate more effectively. “We have come to seek peace.”

Unexpectedly, the bandit began laughing. Although Agan had lost the ability to intimidate others with his weak stature, he still tried to impose his aura on the other man. It didn’t work, and the bandit grew focused again. “Oh, man. You really don’t know, do you?” He started laughing again, and Agan stood opposite to him in confusion. “We don’t care about your tiny, weak, little village. We’ve already gotten peace from you. He just never told ya!”

“He?” Agan asked, demanding answers with his stern face. He could care less about the bandits, but he still held loyalty to the village. The cane he held only served to make the bandit laugh harder at the contrasting image. It was clear who was being made fun of.

The atmosphere grew tense on one side, and the wind started to blow on the two people standing in the hills of grassy terrain. Had Agan been in his prime, he knew that this bandit would fear him; however, he had grown weak. The man lamented his weakness as his right eye focused intensely at the other man.

“Oh, you won’t have to worry about it.” The bandit smirked, and his eyes rolled up in a feral glee. His aura turned a little grayer, and Agan felt an ominous air. “Not here, that is…ha! It’s too late for you now.”

As the man spoke, Agan instinctively ducked down, and a bandit’s sharp hand missed the back of his neck. Was he starting to grow senile? There was no possible way he couldn’t have heard him–the man should’ve been right behind him for a few seconds. Agan bit his lip in frustration, and he realized the answer.

Magic.

He had never fought against anything like it. It was an unbelievably miraculous power; the ability to shape things to your will using mana. He was jealous of it, but its application in fights was limited to indirect damage only. All of this ran in his head within seconds, and the shock of dodging an attack from behind faded. He slashed back at him–not with a sword, but with his cane–and hit what seemed to be a man’s neck.

Unfortunately however, his strength was too weak to do much, and he was only able to knock back the man slightly. Agan cursed inside his head as his arm hurt. Something like this would have never hurt him back then.

The bandit that was once behind him stepped back, and Agan looked to see the first one he saw turning annoyed. Using his cane, Agan forced himself up, and he distanced himself from the two. His breath was already starting to speed up.

‘How in the world does the Village Chief–no, Lonyu, fight with a weaker body than this?’ Agan turned towards the two, and he raised his guard. He held his cane like a sword, and it was convenient due to its length; it just so happened to be the same size as his original one, and it was far less heavy.

“Man, what happened to ya?” The first bandit said, annoyed. “How in Mier Gande did you miss?”

“...I don’t know, but…” The second one’s right hand glowed blue, and Agan tensed up. “I won’t miss a second time. Not after he did that to my neck.” The bandit rubbed the bruise, and Agan grew confused at the sight. He of all people understood strength, and he especially knew that there was no way his strike could’ve damaged him so easily.

“You two...I came here to negotiate and was told that the deal was already done. What is the meaning of this! Who was it!” Agan shouted, hoping they would tell him. The warrior leader inside of him reignited, and the old sense of duty brought him back up. “Nobody from our village would have gone to you bandits on purpose. Speaking of that, where have you taken our villagers!” Agan frowned, and angrily yelled, “TELL ME!”

The original bandit smirked at him. “Well, if you wanna know so badly…why don’t you look behind you, eh?”

The very words set Agan off, and he looked behind him hurriedly. He stepped forward and attacked from behind blindly…but it was too late.

His vision faded, and in his sight, one of his fears became true. It was a villager with bags of herbs on his back, and he was smiling back at him alongside a powerful-looking bandit. For some reason however, he couldn’t remember the name of his fellow villager…

-O-

Agan woke up, and he opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar stone ceiling. His body felt sore all over, and he got up from the ground. Upon further inspection, it seemed that he had been sleeping on the flat rocky floor. Looking around gave Agan a clue to his surroundings.

‘...Well, this is the first time I’ve seen a…cave. Right.’ He thought to himself. As Agan sighed, his mind became a bit clearer, and he thought back to what those two said. ‘There’s someone from our village…and they made peace with the bandits…but, we were never told about this—who could it be?’

Names flashed through his mind, but every single one of them were ruled out. None of it made sense to him. As Agan put his back to a wall, he noticed the exit to his room. He would have left, but rows of vertical metal bars stood in its way. Agan was now a prisoner inside a cell. Luckily, it wasn’t all dark in the room–there were many torches spread out so as to light the place. None of them were on his side of the cell, however. Annoyingly, his cane wasn’t with him either…the man nearly tripped when he started walking. Good thing nobody was there to see that.

Footsteps from outside the room he was in echoed in the hallways of the cave, and he couldn’t see who was coming to him yet. The room was attached to the side of a hallway, so the only thing he saw was yet another stone wall. Agan tensed up. The aura of the one walking down could be seen through the wall, and its dim light gradually grew brighter and brighter.

This was definitely one of his kind. An Emian almost never had an aura as bright as that, for they usually only dealt with mana. The only exceptions were people who could afford to do so.

Agan sat down with criss-crossed legs, and he waited for the man with his hands on his knees. The prisoner was thinking about what he’d say to him. Who are you? Why didn’t you tell the village? How did you do it? As he thought about what he’d ask, the villager walked in…

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re awake!” He said in Emian, and Agan squinted his eyes at him.

Replying back in the same language, Agan said, “...And I…have literally no idea who you are. Why don’t you tell me…whoever you are.” His right eye viewed the man in its entirety, and he couldn’t remember who he was–if he was even a villager in the first place. The man sitting was starting to doubt both his thoughts and memory.

Across from the metal bars trapping Agan, the non-muscular man stood. He didn’t have any facial hair in contrast to Agan’s short beard, and he had an aura darker than nearly anything he had seen. Nothing could surpass that thing’s darkness, after all. It was a mixed gray, and little white could be seen. The prisoner watched his smile intently, and the man in front of him was clearly unafraid. He wasn’t skinny, but he was far closer to that than he was to being fat.

As Agan looked at him, and this time, the other man took one of the torches held in place on the wall. He was still smiling, but his tight grip on the torch made the prisoner doubt his happiness.

Before, he spoke in Emian, but now, Agan noticed the change in language as the man across from him spoke. His doubt vanished, and a new feeling replaced it: suspicion.

“Well, Warrior Leader,” Agan shifted slightly at the mention of the old title. “If you would like to know so badly, my name…” With an eerie calm, the man put his hand on his chest, and he was still smiling. Agan was not as happy; he clearly showed his negativity to the other person. “...is not something I’m going to tell you yet. That face of yours makes me feel so upset. What’s the matter, hm?” The man asked. “It’s not like you should care about me–one of your fellow people–being here at all.” The torch in his hand dimmed slightly, and Agan frowned at the conversation topic.

“After all,” The man said, “you were too busy dealing with your poor family’s deaths.” Agan gripped his knees tighter, and the villager started counting with his fingers. “That murderer, his ‘kind’ wife, your sickly wife, your parents–hell, every single one of your siblings is dead due to one thing or another!”

Agan grit his teeth, and his eyes flickered red temporarily. “...Your point?”

The prisoner wasn’t fit at all for his old position, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t act like it. The man on the other side of the cell stepped back unconsciously, and he raised the torch like a weapon. Agan regained his calm after a few seconds, and despite his anger, he felt amusement at the sight of the other man’s fear.

“...Well, my point is, everyone believes it's all due to that–'' The man suddenly came close to the bars, waving his non-torch hand around. “–cursed child you took in all those years ago. Me, though? Not me.”

Agan frowned. “So what? I still don’t see what you’re getting at, nor why you even joined these ‘bandits’ in the first place. Why didn’t you tell the village you did this?”

He sighed. “...You know, I could’ve had my friends,” The villager pointed behind him at the hallway, “kill you while you were asleep. They could’ve tortured you, beaten you up, and even worse. But no. I stopped them for you, Warrior Leader.” The man looked down at the sitting prisoner, and he clearly showed his upset emotion. Agan didn’t care at all for his threats, however. He barely cared at all for his own life nowadays. “You see, I’m really grateful to you.”

“...So what? That doesn’t answer my questions.”

“Fine, fine. Be that way.” He sighed, and stepped away from the cell. The man grumbled. “Don’t even know why I’m telling you this…” Agan squinted his eyes as a purple light touched the aura around the other man’s head in a flash. He tried not to show it off in his expression, but the prisoner was confused by it. The other man didn’t notice. “...but I feel like I should. You cared for that child, Warrior Leader.”

Agan interrupted with an annoyed expression. “I’m not the Warrior Leader. Not anymore. Use my real name.”

“Fine, Agan.” He said, growing irritated. “As I was saying, I’m grateful you cared for the child that everybody hated.”

“...What? Why?” Agan asked, clearly in a state of confusion. There was no reason–at least, that’s what he believed–for this man to be thankful. Jaffy had no other relatives besides him, and as he said, everyone in the village hated his nephew–so what was the catch?

“Because I–” The man spun around, and he put the torch back. “–was an idiot. Really. While everyone was fussing about this ‘cursed’ child, I was in my home, always thinking about something stupid like the future or business or maybe that brother of mine. I mean, I did get into business with the bandits later on, but that’s not my main point here. I was never truly happy.”

The prisoner was going to interrupt when the man talked about said business, but something told him he had to keep listening. There was still the occasional purple flash of light near the man outside his cell, and it was always near his head. Agan had no clue as to what it was, but it seemed like it was helping him–he was grateful to…whatever it was. He felt an odd familiarity to its light…

Stop him.

However, it was both too dim and too quiet to affect the situation.

“...I’m glad you didn’t interrupt me this time. Anyhow, because I was always at home doing whatever, I never actually saw this ‘cursed’ child in person. The only thing I knew about him even was that you and your dead wife–” Agan nearly stood up in rage. “–were taking care of him. And like I said, really, I’m grateful to you!”

Suddenly, the man had an overjoyed smile, and Agan felt something ominous. His aura–was it darker than before? He didn’t know. The prisoner needed to know, but he didn’t want to know why. The purple light grew dimmer and disappeared.

“Because if it wasn’t for you…”

He threw his hands into the air, and his joyful mood filled the cavern’s room.

“I would have NEVER seen him!”

-O-O-O-

“I can see that would be deeply upsetting.” The doctor said, knowing very well how tight the bonds villagers had in their communities. “How did you react to this betrayal? Are you willing to say more about what happened after that discovery?”

The room seemed to grow warmer, and Agan clutched his hair in both stress and anger. He thought back to the boy he saw before he entered the doctor’s office–if that was truly the Jaffy he knew, then he was…!

“FUCK! Listen, listen to me alright–this bastard, he didn’t just betray our village, he did something far worse than that. Everything, EVERYTHING was alright before that.” Agan heaved, and he angrily gripped the furniture’s armrest with his right. “I shouldn’t have let Jaffy out of the house that night…” Doctor Jones nearly reacted to those words, but she was steady enough to hold herself back. “...that disgusting piece-a-shit. He told me everything. His reasons, his deals, and the way he did it–worst of all, it was all thanks to me.” He looked down in guilt. “These bandits weren't out of the situation, either...it was only thanks to them that he could do this.”

The doctor’s voice grew a softer tone. “I'm so sorry. It sounds like this man was willing to commit a terrible act against his own community, which makes it very hard to forgive such a person or even believe that his own actions were justified.” She sat up straight, and looked at the crestfallen man. “Is there anything more that you want to tell me about this awful situation? Any more to the story that you need to share?”

“...Of course.” He said bitterly. “There’s always more.”

-O-O-O-

“I would have NEVER seen him!”

After the man across the metal bars spoke those happy words, Agan’s face paralyzed. The gears in his brain were turning, and a purple light quickly shined through his eye. Something about him made the prisoner remember who he was. Memories flashed through his brain forcefully.

=O=O=

“Don’t joke around about things like that…you know I’d be gentle with Khlon, Agan. Oh–sorry about that, by the way.” His tone fluctuated multiple times in the way he talked, and Agan laughed even harder. He calmed himself down.

“Oh, yeah…this is a pretty good time though. Basically everyone’s celebrating with you! Well, maybe except that one guy…what was his name again?”

“...Are you talking about Nolua?”

Something clicked inside Agan’s head, and he nodded.

“Yeah! That guy…” Agan squinted his eyes in annoyance. “He should be celebrating your wedding! Not doing…whatever he’s doing right now. Gotta have everyone for your grand event, y’know!?”

“Well, last I saw him, he said he was going to…” Jutan blinked. “Yeah. I saw him with his little brother, and Nolua said he had to do something with him before he joined in the celebration. No idea what it is, though…”

The man then thought back to the slightly fearful expression on the kid’s face.

“Well, I’m a bit worried about what they could be doing together. The kid looked a bit scared, so they might be doing something dangerous…”

=O=O=

“You…I remember you now.” Agan said quietly. He grabbed his head with his right in thought, trying his best to remember. “I remember…the warriors never found you pleasant. There was always some little thing off about you, and–” Agan grimaced. His head was starting to hurt. “...Nobody could convict you of anything because you never really did anything wrong. You never got things by force; you only got things by words. You’d always stay cooped up inside that house of yours with your little brother…always making excuses to stay inside.”

Agan squinted his functioning eye at the man he had just remembered the name of.

“...Nolua.”

Nolua smiled in response to his name. “I didn’t think you’d actually know me, Agan. Even I know I wasn’t the most popular person in the village.” He stopped smiling for a moment, but the villager continued on. “As you said, I didn’t really go out and talk to others that often, only ever doing so whenever I needed to–so I know exactly just how lucky I was to see him outside that day.”

Agan’s blood froze. “Jaffy was WHAT!?”

It was no wonder the man was shocked; he never let the boy out in fear he would be harmed. Even the kindest villager could hold hatred for him, for he was most likely blamed for something miserable that had happened to them in their lives. When the first finger was pointed to Jaffy, the chain of events resulting from that caused everyone else to do the same.

“Jaffy…Jaffy, Jaffy, Jaffy.” Nolua sounded out the name quietly. “Jaffy. So that’s his name. Thank you for telling me, Agan!” The said man’s face darkened. “Nobody in the village wanted to call him by his actual name, you see.”

“I know that.”

“And that’s okay! You know this already Agan, but I'm so so grateful I went outside that day.” The villager said to the prisoner joyfully. “Because on that day, I didn’t see a ‘cursed’ child.” In a breathtaking tone, he looked towards the ceiling, as if imagining the sunny sky. “I saw a blessing.”

In response to those words, Agan stood up. He had a dubious expression as he gazed at the man across. “...And just how was it a blessing?” Something ominous radiated from the villager, and Agan prepared himself for what he might answer with.

“He…” Nolua’s voice went quiet, and he spoke with awe. “He was so…beautiful. His face was so cute, the way he was cautious was so adorable, and those scars on his body…” The man drooled, and he kept on ranting. “I loved it! His fragile eyes, his trembling hands, his desperation, and especially his small body…” He smiled maniacally. “EVERYTHING!”

As Nolua spoke those words, Agan’s jaw dropped slowly and slowly in horror at his description. Things started to make sense—too much sense. Every villager hated Jutan’s son, but what kind of person would hate someone they loved? Something spiked the prisoner’s chest, and then, another emotion hit him. He was guilty for not keeping a good eye on the boy, but even more so…he was enraged at this man’s dark intentions. His eyes flickered in red once again, but the man didn’t flinch. Nolua was too far deep into his fantasies.

“You…you…!” Agan said, slowly rising from the ground in rage. “Jaffy…he’s…HE’S NOT EVEN ELEVEN! AND YOU—YOU FUCKING—THIS IS WHY YOU TRAPPED ME HERE?! TO GO FOR MY NEPHEW?!? TAKE ME OUT OF THESE BARS BEFORE I—“

“No, no, no. I don’t think I will,” Nolua said slowly, smiling sadistically, “because I finally managed to stop you from being near Jaffy. I was really jealous of you, you know? But now, I don’t have to be. I get to have him all to myself…” He leaned into the bars, as if provoking Agan. “…And I get to do anything I want to him. Oh, don’t worry though—I’ll make him love me first. I’ll turn his body into the—“

With a crimson red starting to grow in his eyes, the prisoner punched him with as much force as he could through the bars. For once, he was grateful for his deflation in muscle; he would have never been able to pass through the bars with his big hands. Nolua stepped back multiple times covering his face, and blood spilled out of his nose. Although Agan was angry, he felt great at the sight, and there was far too much euphoria passing through his veins. The originally joyful man grew angry.

“GAHHH—YOU FUCKING—AGH! MY NOSE! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST DID TO ME?!”

“Yes.”

“YOU—You know what!? I was grateful to you, Warrior Leader. Now however, I’m not thinking so great about you. I was going to be kind to you, and I was going to let you free after I made Jaffy my lover.” He uncovered his bloody face breathing in deeply, and screamed at Agan. “YOU WERE GOING TO BE AT THE WEDDING!”

“THERE WILL BE NO WEDDING!” Agan shouted back, gripping the bars with a newly founded power. His vision was slightly red. “If I can have it, I will ALWAYS HAVE YOU AT LEAST A FEW FORESTS AWAY FROM HIM! STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY BROTHER’S SON!”

“No…” Nolua heaved his chest, staring straight into Agan’s reddened right eye. “I can’t. He’s too much to pass up, Warrior Leader, and he will become mine. Nothing you do will change that.”

“Not until I BREAK THESE BARS. You will not do ANYTHING to that boy. Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

Nolua felt a chill grow on his spine, but he shrugged it off. Even if he did, the prisoner wouldn’t be able to get out of his room. The man started walking away, grumbling, but before he exited the room, he gave Agan a resentful glare. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, and promptly walked out of the room while covering his face. His steps were slow.

The prisoner was not going to let him leave in peace, however.

“…You…NOLUA! YOU FUCKER! COME BACK HERE!” His voice echoed in the cavern halls, but no voice came out in response. “FUCK! IF I SEE YOUR FACE ONE MORE TIME, I’LL BREAK YOUR FUCKING BONES!” He tried tearing the bars apart, but it was futile. “ANSWER ME! YOU TRAITOR!” Agan started punching the bars with his fists. They were starting to form dents, but only barely. “NOLUAAAAAAA!”

Agan’s vision turned blood red, and he lost control of himself. His aura suddenly peaked in power, and his body grew stronger. Both the man’s muscles and height had grown slightly. His fists were starting to bleed from the punching, but Agan didn’t care a single bit. With the crushing of the metallic prison, there was no pain. Agan had broken the bars with his fists alone, but it wasn’t enough. Noticeably, the footsteps that echoed in the hall grew faster in speed. The prisoner smiled at the detail he was able to hear, despite the anger he held inside his heart.

Agan charged at the hallway, but a magical barrier blocked him. It didn’t stop him from trying again, however; he would do anything to get to him, to stop him, even if the magical barrier’s defense seemed to be infinite. If the man saw his reflection, he would have noticed that his eyes were the same color Jutan had when he had gone mad.

“I’LL FUCKING MURDER YOU!”

Bloodshot red.

-O-O-O-