walker of chaos

Chapter 3: First Steps into Chaos

The days passed with an uneasy calm, and though Ren tried to keep to himself, whispers began to spread through the village. People talked of "bad omens" and muttered about strange occurrences. He could feel the stares lingering on his back, the tension growing every time he passed through the village square.

He kept the silver charm from the old woman tucked beneath his shirt, a silent reminder of her words: power alone does not make you a monster. But the weight of it felt heavier each day, as if it were pulling him toward something dark and inevitable.

One evening, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, Ren wandered to the edge of the village, to the small river where he often came to clear his mind. He sat on the bank, gazing into the water, letting the cool evening air calm the restless thoughts swirling inside him.

"Thinking deeply, are we?" a voice called out from nearby.

Ren looked up, startled, and saw a figure standing a few paces away—a young man in his early twenties, dressed in simple but clean clothing. His eyes were bright, almost too intense, and he wore a faint smile that didn't quite reach them.

"Who… are you?" Ren asked, instinctively drawing back.

The man chuckled, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Easy there. Name's Kieran. I'm just passing through, looking for a place to rest before I move on. Thought I might find someone interesting here, but I didn't expect a fellow... traveler."

Ren tensed. "Traveler?"

Kieran's eyes gleamed with understanding. "A Walker of Chaos."

The words struck Ren like a thunderclap. He looked at Kieran, searching his face for any sign of mockery, but there was only a grim sort of recognition.

"You… know about Walkers?" Ren whispered.

"Oh, I know more than you might think," Kieran replied, stepping closer. "Walkers are rare, and usually, they don't survive long enough to meet others like them. But I've been at this for a while, and I can see you've only just awakened. How's it feel to carry the weight of chaos?"

Ren's throat tightened. He hadn't dared put it into words, hadn't even admitted it to himself. But Kieran's gaze was piercing, his expression both understanding and… something else, something Ren couldn't quite place.

"It feels… heavy," Ren admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kieran nodded, his gaze softening. "That's the nature of chaos—it's a constant struggle. But it's also power. More power than anyone else in this village could dream of. And if you learn to control it, you'll never have to live in fear again."

The words sent a thrill through Ren, but also a sense of caution. He remembered the old woman's warning about the cost of chaos. "I don't know if I want that," he said quietly. "The power… it hurts."

Kieran's smile faded slightly, and he gave a small, knowing nod. "Chaos isn't a gift given freely. Every time you use it, it takes something back. That's why most people can't handle it. But you, Ren—you've got the potential to go far, if you're willing to take the risk."

Ren hesitated, wrestling with the temptation. The allure of control was powerful, and for someone who'd lived a life of powerlessness, the idea was intoxicating. But he also knew that every time he gave in, he'd lose something in return—a part of himself he might never get back.

"Can you… teach me?" Ren asked, his voice barely a whisper. He wasn't sure if it was the right choice, but he needed answers. He couldn't keep stumbling through this power alone.

Kieran's smile returned, sharper this time. "I can teach you the first steps. But remember, Ren—chaos has no master. Even the strongest Walker must respect it, or it will consume him."

Ren nodded, swallowing hard. Part of him wanted to turn back, to forget everything and live a simple life in the shadows. But another part, a deeper part, wanted to understand, to grasp the power that had been thrust upon him. And Kieran was his only way forward.

"Good," Kieran said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's begin.