“Silence, old man! You dare interrupt the Dune Directorate's decree?” The Sand Devil with the growling mask barked with indignation. His grasp on the hot branding iron tightened. The heat radiating outward, threatened to scorch the air itself.

Sorah met his gaze unflinchingly. Despite his age and the aches that plagued his body, a surge of righteous fury coursed through him. He would not stand idly by while these barbarians branded innocent people like cattle.

“I do,” Sorah answered resolutely. “This branding is an act of barbarity! It is a violation of the inherent rights of these people!”

The masked soldier scoffed and retorted, “Rights? What rights do these weaklings have? They are citizens of the Terravolt Kingdom, and as such, they must abide by the laws set forth by the Dune Directorate. This branding is a necessary measure to ensure the safety and security of our realm.”

Sorah’s brow furrowed as he observed the soldier closely. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his armour adorned with the insignia of the Terravolt Kingdom – a stylized image of a mountain range with a bolt of lightning striking its peak. The soldier's demeanour was one of arrogance and authority. He also possessed a cold, calculating light in his eyes.

“I am Titus Chek, Squad Captain of the Terravolt Sand Devils,” the soldier announced proudly. “We have been tasked with enforcing the new branding law throughout this Nathor region. And let me tell you, old man, it is an honour to serve under the command of the esteemed Marshal Commander Dravenik. He is a true warrior, a visionary leader who will guide our kingdom to greatness.”

Sorah scoffed, his anger simmering just below the surface. “Greatness built upon the subjugation of innocent people? Is that the kind of future you envision for your kingdom, Captain Chek?”

Titus’s eyes narrowed. “You question the wisdom of the Dune Directorate? You must be either brave or foolish, old man.”

“Neither,” Sorah countered calmly. “I am merely a concerned citizen who cannot stand idly by and watch as innocent people are subjected to such cruelty. This branding is not about security; it is about control. It is about stamping out any dissent, any opposition to your so-called Dune Directorate.”

Titus’s face flushed with anger as Sorah spoke, he could feel his TerraFlow Kana stirring within him, but he held it in check. He had to maintain composure, to show this old man that he was not intimidated.

“You know nothing of the threats we face,” Titus spat. “The Aerithra Kingdom is a den of vipers, their Elemental Masters are a constant threat to our borders. At any given time they could spew out of the air with disastrous measures. This branding is necessary to identify and weed out any potential spies or sympathizers who might seek to undermine our kingdom from within. Plus they would serve as great bargaining chips in case those scums decides to attack us.”

Sorah shook his head in disbelief. “So, you would punish an entire population for the actions of a few? You would brand innocent people like animals simply because of their elemental affinity or their connection to a neighbouring kingdom?”

Titus’s grip tightened on his branding iron. “It is a necessary sacrifice for the greater good,” he said with a hint of uncertainty tugging his lips. “Besides, we’re not killing anyone, merely branding them.”

Sorah sensed the soldier’s wavering conviction, thus he had to press his advantage. “The greater good? Or the good of those in power? This branding is not about protecting your people; it is about consolidating your control. It is about creating a society where everyone is categorized and controlled, where dissent is silenced, and individuality is crushed.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd of villagers as Sorah spoke. They had been too afraid to speak up, too terrified to challenge the authority of the Pyro Warriors and Sand Devils, but this odd old man’s words had ignited a spark of defiance within them. They began to see the branding for what it truly was – a tool of oppression, a way to control and subjugate them.

“He’s right!” a young man shouted from the crowd as he trembled. “This branding is wrong! We are not animals to be marked and controlled!”

“Silence!” Titus roared, his anger flaring as he pointed his branding iron at the young man. “For your insolence. You will be branded next!”

“This is not just about weeding out Aerithrans,” Sorah continued, ignoring the soldier’s threat. “This is about establishing a new world order, a system where every individual’s elemental affinity is documented and controlled by the Ignis and Terravolt Kingdoms. To what end I may ask?”

Sorah’s words struck a chord with more village folks. They began to understand the true scope of the branding regime, that it wasn’t just about identifying potential threats from the Aerithra Kingdom. It was about creating a system of control that extended far beyond their borders, a system where every individual’s elemental affinity was documented and controlled by the joint forces just as the old man’s said.

“He speaks the truth! They want to control us all, to turn us into slaves to their will!” an elderly woman shouted.

“How barbaric. These bastards takes us for pigs.”

“We should push back against this inhumane act.”

“Yes, we should.”

“Grrrr….” Titus’s face contorted with rage as he listened to the villagers’ growing dissent. He had to silence this old man before he incited a full-scale rebellion.

“Seize him!” he barked at his soldiers.

“Right!”

Two Sand Devils stepped forward and lunged at Sorah with their Aether Sabres.

Whoosh!

Sorah raised his staff, ready to defend himself, but he hesitated. He didn’t want to resort to violence, especially not against these soldiers who were merely following orders. But he also knew he couldn’t allow himself to be cut apart.

Sorah took a deep breath, focusing on the relaxing energy of the Zephyrswept Waltz. He closed his eyes, focusing his intent on the flow of Aether Steam within his body. The glyphs on his staff receded, replaced with a fuming source of visible amber-white steam.

“ZenFlow Kana!” Sorah bellowed, thrusting his staff forward.

Whoosh!

A tremendous surge of wind exploded from the point of the staff, knocking the two warriors backwards like rag dolls. They collided into an adjacent stall, spilling fruits and vegetables in all directions.

“Huh, this is…”

The remaining Sand Devils and Pyro Warriors stumbled back in surprise. They had never witnessed such a display of power, not from a seemingly ordinary old man.

“An Aerithran!” Titus’s voice was filled with rage and hatred. “No wonder you oppose our laws! You are a spy, a saboteur sent here to undermine our kingdom!”

Sorah stood tall with his staff held firmly in his hand. “I am no spy, Captain Chek. I am merely a man who believes in justice and freedom. And I will not stand by and watch as you oppress your own people, regardless if they despise my kind.”

“Enough talk. Men capture him!” Hollered Titus.

The Sand Devils and Pyro Warriors raced ahead with their Aether Sabres blazing with power. Given the command, they were more than happy to cleave Sorah in two.

“Tsk, so many.” Sorah, knowing he couldn’t rely solely on his Kana Flow to defeat such a large group, stomped his staff into the ground and prepared to defend himself.

“Expand!”

Nothing happened. ‘Damn it. Of all the times for the Sage Curse to be failing me.’

“Tsk!”

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The warriors encircled Sorah, flashing their weapons like lethal serpents as they cut and pushed at him from every angle.

“Surrender old man!”

“Never!”

Sorah moved with the grace and agility of a dancer, thanks to his decades of martial arts experience and his newfound ZenFlow Kana technique. He wove among their blows, deflecting each one accurately with his staff.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

With lightning-fast counterattacks of his own, his staff broke through armour and sent warriors reeling. However, he struggled against the overwhelming odds as he whirled, ducked, and weaved.

The people were filled with amazement as they witnessed Sorah battle the troops, and his courage and talent gave them a glimmer of hope.

“He’s amazing!”

“He’s like a whirlwind!”

“He’s giving those Sand Devils a taste of their own medicine!”

Their whispers filled the air, adding to the chaos of the battle.

Titus and the Ignis Squad Captain, a burly man with a fiery beard and eyes that burned with an inner flame, stood at a safe distance beside the Elemental Imprinter machine, observing the fight. They had expected the old man to be an easy target, but they were proven wrong.

“Titus, this old man is more skilled than we anticipated,” the Ignis Squad Captain remarked, stroking his fiery beard thoughtfully.

“He’s just delaying the inevitable, Sojourn” Titus replied with a sneer. “Once our soldiers wear him down, he’ll be begging for mercy.”

***

With a mixture of delight and frustration, Rice Guru who was sitting atop a craggy boulder, watched as Woodworm lumbered through the thicket. The round-eyed monster had developed a strong affection for a downed oak tree, gnawing at the bark with great gusto and mandibles in full force.

"Easy there, my gluttonous friend," Rice Guru chuckled. "Don't choke on your breakfast. There's plenty of wood to go around."

“Kyu…” Woodworm paused momentarily, lifting its head and blinking its large, luminous eyes at the Rice Guru. It then let out a soft chirp, as if in agreement, before resuming its feast with renewed vigour.

Rice Guru shook his head and sighed. Woodworm was a loyal and dependable companion, but its insatiable appetite and tendency to prioritize food over all else could be a source of frustration. Still, Rice Guru couldn't help but feel a fondness for the creature. After all, they had been through a lot together, especially in recent hours.

As he listened to the chewing noises, his gaze drifted towards the distant village where Sorah had gone to scout ahead. A knot of anxiety formed in his straw-stuffed chest as he wondered how the old master was faring. Sorah had been adamant about going alone, but Rice Guru couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

The village had been eerily quiet since Sorah's departure, and the lack of any sounds of commotion or battle was unsettling. Rice Guru strained his ears, listening for any indication of trouble that might be carried by the wind, but all he could hear was the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Suddenly, a series of metallic clangs shattered the peaceful ambience, echoing faintly from the direction of the village. Rice Guru's head snapped up, his leafy appendages twitching with alarm.

"What was that?" he spoke to himself. "Could it be... could Sorah be in trouble?"

The clanging sounds continued, growing louder and more frantic with each passing moment. Rice Guru's anxiety intensified, and he found himself pacing back and forth atop the boulder as he thought of the possibilities.

"Should I go and investigate?" he thought aloud, gnawing on a fingernail nervously. "But what if it's a trap? What if those Sand Devils are waiting for me to show myself? Wait, am I even that important to them…?"

He glanced at Woodworm who continued to munch on the oak tree, oblivious to the commotion in the distance. A wave of frustration washed over Rice Guru.

"Oh, for the love of fermented rice wine, you useless glutton," he grumbled, kicking a pebble in Woodworm's direction. "Can't you sense the danger? Can't you see that your master might be in need of assistance?"

"Kyuu?" Startled by the unexpected projectile, the woodworm raised its head and gave Rice Guru a puzzled look. Then it gave a gentle chirp and went back to eating, as if it didn't mind the old sage's scream.

Rice Guru sighed in defeat. He knew that expecting Woodworm to prioritize anything over food was a futile endeavour. He would have to make a decision on his own.

He stood there for a moment, torn between his desire to help Sorah and his innate cowardice. The clanging sounds continued, echoing through the forest like a haunting melody. Rice Guru closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached a decision.

He responded, "Alright, Woodworm," with a note of resignation in his voice. "Complete your meal. Until Master Sorah returns, we'll wait here."

He then pulled out a stick of corn from his robe and began munching on it thoughtfully. "Besides," he spoke to himself, "It's almost breakfast time."

 

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