THE LAST WARRIOR REVENGE

A young man walked toward the old well in the yard of a two-story wooden house. He drew water with a wooden bucket and a cloth rope.

“Arga!” someone called from the side.

The young man stopped his work and turned toward the voice. He saw a girl waving. Arga returned her wave and offered a smile.

But a moment later a haughty-looking youth appeared behind the girl. He glared at Arga and made a throat-slitting gesture. The girl turned and was startled to see the young man standing there.

“Bhirawa! You followed me again!?” she snapped in annoyance.

“Why are you greeting that trash? He doesn’t deserve a greeting from anyone,” Bhirawa said with a sneer in Arga’s direction.

“But he’s our senior! You shouldn’t act like that, should you!?” the girl protested, still upset that Bhirawa followed her everywhere she went.

At her words Bhirawa laughed aloud.

“A senior? How can someone who can’t do anything be called a senior in our sect? He’s even weaker than a cat! It’s an embarrassment to our Golden Step Sect!” Bhirawa proclaimed.

The girl had no reply.

Arga was a disciple of the Golden Step Sect, one of the greatest sects in the Wind Nation — the Wind Isle. The sect was famed for training talented pupils and always taking first place in every major tournament. Arga had been there for almost two years.

But his progress had been painfully slow. In contrast, Bhirawa was one of the most naturally gifted students in the sect. With so much attention on him, Bhirawa grew arrogant and haughty. He regularly showed off in front of his fellow disciples and treated Arga like a lackey. Arga could do little; no matter how hard he fought, Bhirawa remained far too strong for him.

Realizing this, Arga kept silent and resumed drawing water from the well. Bhirawa watched him with a cynical smile. The girl before them looked dejected as she watched Arga hang his head, lacking any spirit.

“How pitiful… He shouldn’t be treated this way by a junior. But what can I do? Bhirawa is too strong for the other students here. Unfortunately, he has a cruel heart,” the girl thought to herself.

Suddenly someone gripped her right hand. When she looked back, Bhirawa was smiling at her.

“Let’s leave this place. I’m sick of seeing this rotten trash here,” he said, a repulsive grin spreading across his face. The girl could do nothing to resist. Arga could only watch from a distance as Bhirawa dragged her into the inner courtyard of the Golden Step Sect.

Arga exhaled, feeling the weight of his situation. Even after two years at the elite sect, he was still confined to the outer yard, an area reserved for those still learning the basics.

When both buckets were full, Arga shouldered them and hurried to the bathing area. Every day he had to fill the water supply for the dozen or so outer-yard disciples.

Most of them refused to draw water and chose to train instead. As the longest-standing outer disciple, Arga had no choice but to yield — he needed the water for bathing and for cooking.

“How long will I endure a life like this?” Arga wondered.

The next day, Ki Narada, his teacher, assigned Arga to gather medicinal herbs in the forest surrounding the sect. Kinanti, the girl who had greeted him the night before, was to accompany him. Ki Narada trusted Kinanti to protect Arga as he collected the herbs. Though she had only been at the sect for a year, her swordsmanship and combat ability far surpassed Arga’s, which was why she was chosen to escort him into the woods.

From a distance, Bhirawa stared at Arga and Kinanti with clenched jaw, his face flushed with anger.

“You bastard! That trash… he dares approach my woman!” Bhirawa fumed. His hands tightened into fists and his jaw hardened.

After walking for a while beyond the sect, Arga turned right and headed into the dense forest. Kinanti followed behind; she dared not ask questions because Arga was so taciturn.

Still, she kept watching him from behind, her feelings mixed.

“Kinanti,” Arga suddenly spoke as they stepped into the woods.

“Yes?” she answered.

“Were you all right last night?” he asked while plucking some of the medicinal plants Ki Narada had requested. She nodded.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry. Bhirawa wouldn’t dare do anything inside the sect,” Kinanti said. Arga gave a faint smile. Then he suddenly turned his head when he heard a thud.

When he glanced back, a young man with a flushed, angry face stood there. Kinanti was startled — it was Bhirawa, appearing abruptly.

“When did he get so close to us? Did he use a lightness technique so I couldn’t sense him…?” Kinanti thought.

“I couldn’t do anything wicked inside that damn sect. So can I do it now? This is the forest outside the sect — a perfect place to do whatever I want without anyone knowing,” Bhirawa said as Kinanti edged closer to Arga and drew her sword.

“What do you mean, Bhirawa!?” Kinanti shouted.

Bhirawa sneered and stared at her.

“You filthy woman! I told you to stay away from that trash because his stench will stick to your mind. And look at you — drawing your sword at me…” Bhirawa said as he stepped toward Arga and Kinanti.

“Get away from us!” Kinanti barked, clearly alarmed.

Bhirawa’s lips curled into a cruel smile. He clapped his hands several times as if signaling someone. True enough, five men from the Tapak Emas Sect emerged from the thick undergrowth. They circled Arga and Kinanti.

“What shall we do to the two of them, Bhirawa?” one of them asked, eyeing Arga and Kinanti in turn.

“Take care of the trash boy. Break his legs. I’ll deal with Kinanti myself. It’s time I make her my slave,” Bhirawa said, looking at Kinanti, who was visibly frightened.