Ironbound

Across the clearing, Torik sat by the fire, his dagger resting in his lap. The bandit leader stood near him, his voice low as they argued.

Kain's eyes narrowed. He couldn't hear the words, but he didn't need to. The tension between Torik and the leader had been simmering for days, and Kain had seen enough to know it was about him.

Torik's smirk was faint but unyielding as he tilted his head toward the bandit leader. "You don't see it, do you?"

"What I see," the leader snapped, his voice rising, "is you wasting resources on a gamble! That boy's not worth the trouble if he dies before we get anything for him."

Torik's gaze sharpened, the smirk fading. "He's more than a boy. He's a weapon. You just don't have the vision to see it yet."

The leader scoffed, throwing his hands up. "Vision doesn't pay. Gold does. The buyers would've taken him for a decent price, but no, you had to play your games."

Torik stood slowly, his dagger catching the firelight as he twirled it between his fingers. "Games?" he repeated, his tone dangerously soft. "What I'm doing is building something. You want quick coin? Fine. Sell the weaklings. But this one—" He gestured toward the cage without looking at Kain. "—he's different."

The leader glared at him but said nothing, his silence conceding the argument for now. With a muttered curse, he stormed away.

Torik watched him go before turning his attention back to the fire, his smirk returning.

He strode toward the cage. Torik crouched slightly, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who learned the hard way how to live in this world."

He stood, slipping the dagger back into its sheath. "You're going to learn, too. Starting tomorrow."

Kain's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

Torik's smirk returned, sharper this time. "Get some rest, boy. You're going to need it."

The next morning, the camp stirred early. Fires were stoked, weapons were sharpened, and even the captives were forced to sit upright in the cage as if today carried special significance.

Torik stood in the center of the clearing, his smirk sharper than usual. His gaze flicked toward the cage, lingering on Kain.

"You," Torik called, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Out."

Kain rose slowly, his muscles stiff and aching from the trials of the past days. The bandits dragged the cage door open, shoving him forward with rough hands.

Torik didn't wait for Kain to reach him. He tossed a wooden staff onto the ground between them, its surface worn but sturdy.

"Pick it up," Torik said.

Kain's gaze flicked to the staff, then back to Torik. For a moment, he didn't move, his body tensing as though waiting for a trick.

"Pick it up," Torik repeated, his tone sharp.

Kain crouched and grabbed the staff, gripping it tightly as he straightened.

"Good," Torik said, his smirk widening. He gestured to the edge of the clearing, where two bandits were standing with their own weapons—one armed with a cudgel, the other with a wooden sword.

"You'll fight them both," Torik said.

Kain's grip tightened on the staff, his knuckles turning white. The two bandits approached slowly, their grins wide.

"What's the matter, kid?" one of them taunted, twirling the cudgel lazily. "Afraid to make the first move?"

The other bandit chuckled, hefting his wooden sword. "Look at him. Shaking already. This'll be over before it starts."

Kain's hands did tremble, though not from fear. Exhaustion weighed on his limbs, and his muscles screamed in protest with every slight shift. But his eyes stayed locked on his opponents.

"Don't wait for them to make the first move," Torik's voice rang out, cutting through the taunts. "Strike first, or you won't get a second chance."

Kain's jaw tightened. His instincts screamed to keep his distance, but Torik's words gnawed at the back of his mind. Strike first.

With a sharp intake of breath, Kain lunged forward, the staff swinging toward the bandit with the cudgel. The blow was fast and clumsy, but the bandit stumbled back, his grin fading as the staff struck his forearm with a dull thud.

"Good," Torik called, his voice calm but edged with steel. "Now keep moving!"

The bandit with the sword stepped in, his weapon slashing downward in a powerful arc. Kain barely raised the staff in time, the impact sending a jolt through his arms. His feet slid in the dirt, and he almost fell, but he forced himself upright.

"Plant your feet!" Torik barked. "If you can't hold your ground, you're already dead."

The words hit harder than the blow. Kain gritted his teeth and braced himself, his body coiling like a spring as the bandits advanced again.

The cudgel came at him again, aiming for his ribs. This time, Kain shifted his weight, letting the blow glance off the staff. He countered with a quick jab, the staff catching the bandit's side with a satisfying crack.

The man growled, stumbling back, but his companion didn't give Kain time to recover. The sword came sweeping toward his legs, forcing Kain to leap back, his balance teetering.

The crowd of bandits laughed, their jeers blending into a cacophony of mockery.

"Hit him harder!" one shouted.

"Knock him down!"

The noise pressed in on Kain like a weight, but he shoved it aside, focusing solely on the two opponents in front of him.

The sword-wielding bandit lunged, aiming high this time. Kain ducked low, driving the end of the staff into the man's stomach with all the strength he could muster. The bandit gasped, doubling over, but Kain didn't stop. He swung the staff upward, catching the man under the chin and sending him sprawling to the ground.

A burst of cheers and laughter erupted from the crowd, but Kain didn't hear them. His focus snapped to the remaining opponent, who was already closing in.

The cudgel came down in a vicious arc, and Kain had no time to dodge. He raised the staff instinctively, the force of the blow splintering the wood slightly and driving him to one knee.

Pain exploded through his arms, and his vision blurred for a moment.

"Get up!" Torik shouted, his voice slicing through the haze. "Use what's left of your weapon!"

Kain's breath came in ragged gasps as he forced himself upright. The staff felt heavier now, its cracked surface biting into his palms.

The bandit grinned, raising the cudgel for another strike. Kain didn't wait this time. He stepped in close, the jagged end of the staff slamming into the bandit's chest.

The man staggered, coughing, but Kain didn't let up. He swung the staff again, catching the man's wrist and knocking the cudgel from his hand.

The bandit snarled, lunging at Kain with his bare hands, but Kain drove his shoulder into the man's chest, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

The fight was over.

Kain stood in the clearing, his chest heaving, the splintered staff trembling in his hands. Blood trickled down his arms where the jagged edges had cut into his skin, but he didn't feel it.

Torik clapped once, slow and deliberate. "Not bad," he said, stepping forward. "But not good enough."

He circled Kain, his gaze sharp. "You hesitate. You overthink. That's how you die in a real fight."

Kain's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Torik smirked. "We'll fix that." He gestured to another bandit. "Again."

The bandits weren't holding back this time. Their strikes came faster, harder, the force of each blow reverberating through Kain's already battered body. His hands burned where the splintered wood of the staff bit into his palms, and every muscle screamed in protest.

"Faster!" Torik's voice rang out. "If you slow down, you're dead!"

The first bandit lunged, swinging his cudgel in a wide arc. Kain barely had time to block, the impact jarring his arms and driving him back a step. Before he could recover, the second bandit was already closing in, his wooden sword slashing toward Kain's side.

Kain twisted his body, the blade grazing his ribs, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. He stumbled, his footing unsteady, but he refused to fall.

The bandits laughed, their jeers cutting through the pounding of blood in his ears.

"Look at him!" one of them shouted, grinning as he raised his cudgel again. "He's finished!"

Kain's vision blurred as the blows kept coming. His breaths were short and shallow, each one a struggle against the burning in his chest. His grip on the staff faltered, the jagged edges slipping against his sweat-slick hands.

The next strike hit his shoulder, sending a fresh wave of pain shooting down his arm. He dropped to one knee, his strength nearly gone.

"Get up!" Torik barked, his voice sharp with irritation.

Kain's head snapped up, his teeth gritted as he forced himself upright. His legs trembled beneath him, but he planted his feet firmly in the dirt, refusing to give in.

Torik's smirk returned. "That's better. Keep moving!"

The bandits came at him again, their strikes relentless. Kain's arms felt like lead, his movements sluggish as he parried each blow.

He couldn't think, there was no room for thought. There was only pain, and the simple instinct to survive.

As the cudgel swung toward him again, Kain's body moved on its own. He sidestepped the blow, his staff lashing out in a desperate, clumsy strike. The jagged end caught the bandit's arm, drawing a thin line of blood.

The man snarled, his grin faltering as he stepped back.

The second bandit moved in quickly, his sword slashing downward. This time, Kain didn't block. He dropped the staff entirely, his body pivoting as he grabbed the man's wrist with both hands.

With a sharp twist, Kain wrenched the weapon from his grasp, the wooden sword clattering to the ground.

The bandits' jeers turned to shouts of surprise as Kain drove his shoulder into the man's chest, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

Kain didn't stop. He dove for the fallen sword, his fingers closing around the hilt just as the cudgel came swinging toward his head.

He rolled to the side, his body moving purely on instinct. The cudgel hit the dirt with a dull thud, and Kain sprang to his feet, the sword raised in a trembling grip.

The bandit froze, his eyes darting between the blade and Kain's face.

For a moment, everything went still.

Then Torik's voice cut through the silence. "Stop."

The bandit with the cudgel lowered his weapon slowly.

Torik stepped forward, his smirk sharp and calculating. "That's enough for today," he said, his voice calm.

Kain didn't lower the sword immediately. His gaze remained locked on the bandit in front of him, his breathing heavy and uneven.

The bandits muttered among themselves, their gazes flicking uneasily between Kain and Torik.

"Take him back," Torik said, nodding toward the cage. "He'll need his rest."

Kain was dragged back to the cage, his legs barely supporting him as the bandits shoved him inside. He collapsed against the bars, his body aching with every breath.

The young girl scooted closer, her wide eyes filled with worry. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

Kain didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted toward Torik, who stood near the fire, his silhouette sharp against the flickering light.

"I'm fine," Kain said finally, his voice flat.

The old man chuckled from his corner of the cage. "Fine, huh? You don't look fine."

Kain leaned his head back against the bars, his eyes half-closed. "I'll survive."

Torik glanced toward the cage, his smirk fading for a moment as he studied Kain's battered form. His eyes narrowed, a glint of satisfaction.