Broken: Shard's Tales

Chapter Nine: Born Fighter.

Meanwhile, Kane took a walk. He had decided to gather information on his own since being alone in the safe house for too long was tiring on its own, even for the patience of a martial artist. They made a pretty good team, he thought; Sophia focused on the high-and-mighty, Luthen on the normal people and he on the underworld.

The safe house was hidden in plain sight; in a residential area. So he took the common road and found himself at a commercial area after walking a bit. All the while, people would stop to observe the oddity he was; unusually tall – about six-and-a-half feet and loose Hrunnan swordsman clothes.

He walked into an alley. This one was no different from the others. Damp and dirty with the smell of alcohol everywhere. Kane could not be more thankful for his hard sole shoes. The broken bottles around there did bite. He had to do this however, because the path to the criminal underworld always began with the right dark alley.

The individuals in the alley watched him warily, like fire; curiously and with caution. His sword helped that impression.

It seemed he had picked the right alley.  All other ones around seemed to lead to this one. It was at one of these junctions he heard a cry. He could never mistake that cry. The cry of a child being beaten. His fist clenched. 

Walk away. He told himself. Walk away.

But the cry gnawed at him, and he ignored his own counsel, moving toward the sound.

At its source, he found the child being beaten by an adult with a stick. As he entered, the beating stopped. Both the child and adult looked at the intruder.

The child’s gaze was wide, his eyes brimming with tears as they locked with Kane’s. He paused for a moment and then knelt to dress the child’s wounds.

“Huh?! What are you doing here? Do you even know what he did? He is a good-for nothing, you hear?”

It was as if Kane did not hear the crazed adult.

“Oi! Get off!”

The adult looked confused when Kane still did not budge. It wasn’t his fault. The memories triggered by seeing an adult take out his anger relentlessly reminded Kane of his first outburst.

Till today, he told himself that it wasn’t his fault. Not that his guilt allowed him to actually believe that.

A sharp jolt of pain brought Kane back to reality. The adult had hit him with the stick. It hurt. Kane then thought of how long the child had been beaten and the pain the child must have gone through.

The adult brought the stick down on him again. Kane held it in midair and rose lifting the child along with him. The child, however, could not stand since he had been beaten a long time and buckled. Kane tried to help him up.

The adult tried to hit Kane for the third time. He would never do anything with that hand again.

Precise cuts at equal intervals divided the stick into three pieces and claimed the man’s wrist and hand. The sword was back in its scabbard before the first shout of pain.

Kane carried the child in his arms. They both looked at each other.

“What is your name?” Kane asked

“Edram.”

They left with shouts of pain in the background.

*******

Kane took Edram to a clinic. They assured him that he would make a full recovery.

Relieved, he sat somewhere and relaxed himself, controlling his emotions.

He shouldn’t have cut that man’s arm. He knew that. What was he thinking?

He knew what he was thinking. Why he could not leave Edram like that. He saw himself in that boy’s eyes. The way he would have been all those years ago.

Why had they attacked him? Kane couldn’t recall. But the memory of that night—the screams, the blood—was as ever sharp.

He saw his parents and siblings being tortured that night, all in tears. He was just a child but he knew it was very wrong for his parents to be tortured like that. The sight of his father’s blood and his mother’s screams and tears evoked a powerful emotion.

The explosion consumed everything—the building crumbled, and everyone within was gone. Everyone.

His soul energy outburst was so large that it caused quakes in the area and left a huge crater with him as the only survivor.

He was just five then. Time did nothing to dull his pain. He could still recall even the shapes of the fires.

He had to go to a martial school to learn the ultimate discipline. He even made an oath to never release soul energy except through his mouth and by channeling it through his weapons. He did not want to ever repeat it. Ever.

Not like all this explanations would matter to anyone coming to seek revenge. He sighed.

Well, it was done now. He would just have to make the most of his new attention.

*******

For an hour, Kane moved through the market in a manner stirring the interest of the hidden eyes that followed him. He then headed to another alley to give them a chance to confront him.

“Come out.” he said munching on an apple noisily.

He was flanked by five figures now, their stances clearly revealing their intent. The one at his front held out a knife. The others were similarly armed.

“Who are you?” The person asked.

“Take me to your boss.” Kane replied and continued munching.

“I said, who are you?” the person with a knife tensed. Kane did not even flinch and threw away the stalk of the apple he was eating.

“You may not know who I am, but you certainly know what I can do. Your friend must have told you. Unless he was too busy screaming.”

The knife guy reacted to that last part. His friend was probably too busy screaming. However, he still knew what Kane could do. It was better to play it safe.

“Why do you want to see our boss?”

“To talk.”

The knife guy sheathed his knife and motioned for the rest to relax. Taking this stranger to see their boss was the worst possible thing he could have asked. He was confident that Kane would die. Painfully.

“Follow me then.” the knife wielder motioned.