same as previous just for now don't cry I'm lazy

The young man's defeat was a devastating blow. He had been humiliated in front of a crowd, and his pride had been shattered. He was captured and sold into slavery, forced to work in the harsh conditions of a salt mine.

His days were filled with backbreaking labor, his body aching with pain. He was treated with cruelty, beaten and starved. He longed for freedom, for the chance to escape and return home.

But hope was a fleeting thing in his situation. He was surrounded by guards, and there was no way out. He felt trapped, hopeless, and alone.

One day, a group of rebels attacked the salt mine. They fought bravely, freeing the slaves and driving the guards away. The young man, along with the other slaves, escaped into the forest.

They traveled for days, their stomachs growling with hunger. They found shelter in a hidden cave, where they rested and recovered.

With renewed hope, the young man vowed to return home and avenge his defeat. He knew it would be a long and difficult journey, but he was determined to see it through.

The young man and his fellow slaves traveled through the wilderness, guided by a wise old hermit who had lived in the forest for many years. The hermit taught them about the land, the animals, and the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

As they journeyed, the young man's resolve grew stronger. He trained relentlessly, honing his skills as a warrior. He learned new techniques, studied ancient texts, and sought out the guidance of experienced fighters.

Eventually, they reached the outskirts of the young man's homeland. He could see the familiar landmarks, the towering mountains, the winding rivers. A wave of nostalgia washed over him, a bittersweet reminder of the life he had once known.

But he knew that his journey was far from over. He had a score to settle with Ryker, and he would not rest until he had avenged his defeat.

He infiltrated the young master's estate, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. He found Ryker training in the courtyard, his movements fluid and graceful.

The young man stepped out from the shadows, his sword drawn. Ryker turned, his eyes widening in surprise. He recognized the young man immediately, a flicker of fear crossing his face.

The two warriors faced off, their eyes locked in a silent duel. The young man lunged forward, his sword flashing in the sunlight. Ryker parried the attack, his blade meeting the young man's with a clang.

The fight was brutal, a clash of wills and steel. The young man fought with a desperation born of years of suffering. Ryker fought with a pride that had been wounded.

In the end, it was the young man who prevailed. He struck Ryker a final blow, sending him tumbling to the ground. The young master lay motionless, his breath shallow.

The young man stood over Ryker, his eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and sorrow. He had avenged his defeat, but at what cost? He had lost so much, and he would never be the same.

As he turned to leave, he glanced back at Ryker. The young master was still breathing, his eyes closed. A pang of pity washed over the young man. He had won, but he had not truly triumphed.