Start Of A Hero's Journey

The bang of the iron gates slamming shut echoed like a hammer striking the final nail in his coffin.

For most people, this would've been the climax of some tragic, melodramatic scene—the kind that would make a lesser man weep and cry.

But Bagwis? He was different....he had to fight every muscle in his face to keep himself from laughing aloud.

His hands that covered his face, trembled as though he were crying, but his lips—hidden behind his fingers— was twisted into a wicked grin. I can't believe this is actually happening again.

His shoulders started to shake, but not with sorrow.

The whispers around him didn't help either. All these crowded civilians gathered around him like he was a freak show probably thinking along the lines of: Oh, how tragic, the fourth young master has been abandoned! How will he ever survive?

"Poor boy..."

"He never stood a chance. After all rumors say that he is already 18 years old but his bloodline only reached novice."

"A Kimalayan from the Batumbangkaw Clan at that age especially from the main family is unheard of!"

"Yeah. Apparently the family has spent numerous artifacts to get him to awaken greater power but it was to no avail."

"He was a failure from the very start, wasn't he?"

Bagwis had to bite his cheek hard enough to draw blood to keep from bursting out laughing. Failure? Oh please, I'm just getting started.

He peeked through his fingers, eyeing the crowd of gawking individuals that were looked at him with a mix of pity and condescension. 

Amateurs, he thought. You people don't even know what real failure looks like.

He lowered his hands from his face, keeping his expression appropriately solemn for his audience. His heart, though, was thumping against his chest with excitement.

Play the part of the tragic, discarded noble. Check.

Now for the fun part.

He turned away from the manor with the kind of slow, deliberate motion reserved for people who've 'lost everything,' taking those first, dramatic steps down the cobblestone path. He could practically hear their whispers behind him.

"Look at him..."

"I bet he won't be able to make it to next week."

Oh, please, he scoffed internally. I've seen root vegetables with more staying power than you lot.

The streets buzzed with life—merchants were hawking their wares, children were playing tag, and the occasional cat slinking through the shadows. For Bagwis, it was a chaotic symphony. He inhaled deeply, relishing the fresh scent of opportunity that mingled with the lingering aromas of the nearby market.

Today, the world was his oyster, and he planned to pry it wide open through sheer force.

With a spring in his step, he made his way through the streets, excitement bubbling within him. He couldn't waste a moment. After all, what's the point of being given a second chance if he just sat around wallowing in self-pity? He had plans—big, deliciously grand plans.

I've really returned!

No one knew. Not the crowd, not his so-called family, not even the gods themselves. The pitiful fourth son, the abandoned child, had been given a second chance. And this time, he wouldn't waste it on something as petty as revenge.

No, he had something much better in mind.

As he rode a random caravan off to a neighboring village, Bagwis glanced once more at the grand gates of the Batumbangkaw manor. They'd slammed them shut on him as if it were the final words written on his fate. How quaint.

Let them think they've won and let them bask in their own arrogance. After all, there's nothing quite so satisfying as watching fools celebrate a victory they never truly had.

The caravan moved forward and Bagwis was slowly carried away. Whistling a cheery tune, his mind filled with plan for the future.

His old master had sacrificed everything to send him back. Sitan The Lonewolf had believed in him, even when Bagwis had given up on himself. His family had just disowned him. But Bagwis Batumbangkaw—no, from now on he was Bagwis Sitan—was far from finished.

Burning the image of the slammed shut manor gates, he let out a nasty looking grin.

Time to make sure that sacrifice wasn't in vain. After all as his masters final orders state: I wont dare bring him shame!

As the near village came into view, Bagwis's thoughts wandered. He wasn't just some broken, discarded noble from a major clan. No, he was something far more dangerous—a man with a second chance and no strings attached. His family thought they had rid themselves of a weak link, but they'd just let loose a predator....a predator whose sole purpose was to see them crumble beneath his feet.

He rubbed his hands together, more out of anticipation than the cold. No money, no allies, no magic strong enough to impress others. Truly, this moment is the start of my hero's journey. Someone cue the dramatic music. Wait—no, it was too early. I haven't even gathered my merry band of misfits yet.

Speaking of misfits....