The Lonewolf Lives

-Village Tavern-

Arriving at the village. He went to the tavern that he used to go to in his past life. It looked exactly as Bagwis remembered: small, filthy, and filled with the distinct scent of sweat and poor decisions. A perfect hiding spot for someone like him who didn't wish to be noticed.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the warmth, the noise inside dropping to a murmur as he walked in. A few people casted curious glances, but nothing too nosy.

Good, he thought. Let's keep it that way. After all, the last thing I need is someone asking about my tragic backstory.

He made his way to the bar, dropping into a seat with a casual nonchalance that hid the fact that he was running on exactly a handful of silver coins. The bartender, a man who looked like he'd crawled out of the wrong side of the bed, barely glanced at him.

"Drink?"

"Food," Bagwis replied, tossing one silver coin onto the counter with a flick of his fingers. "And whatever you call a bed around here. A weeks worth."

The bartender grunted, snatching the silver coin and bit into it just to make sure of it's authenticity. "Food can be considered decent enough to intake. Bed's way worse."

"Sounds like my childhood," Bagwis muttered, leaning back in his chair with an unreadable smile. The bartender disappeared to the kitchen, and Bagwis took the moment to scan the room.

Where do I find a group of lonely, brooding individuals with a penchant for violence and poor life choices? He eyed the tavern patrons and tried to look out for potential candidates. Most of them looked like ordinary villagers— and some looked like trouble but none stood out to him.

It was then he spotted a tall man sitting alone in the corner carrying a sword— which seemed tad bit familiar to him, like he'd seen it somewhere.

And at the far corner was an inconspicuous woman at a table, her visage was hidden beneath her black hooded cape but he could vaguely notice her eyes scanning the room with recognizable sharpness that Bagwis immediately understood her intent— she was looking for exits. Well ain't that interesting.

Lone wolves, he silently thought as a dark smile creeped onto his lips. Fellows just like me.

Disgraced. Disowned. Abandoned. Alone. The kind of people who had been cast aside but still had the passion to fight in them and all they needed was someone to give them directions, someone to lead them.

Truthfully told Bagwis has zero experience of leading people, after all much like his master, he too was a lone wolf who only tagged behind an old man who lived in isolation. But hey, there's always a first for everything, right?

Next step, gather the pack. 

He drummed his fingers on the counter. Can't be the king of the wolves if you don't have any wolves.

The bartender returned and slapped a plate of food in front of him. It looked edible, at least. This was just the beginning. The very start of a winding road that would end with him standing above every single person who had ever looked down on him.

Bagwis stabbed his fork into the dubious slab of meat on his plate as a slow smile spread across his lips. Just wait and see, master. I'll make sure to do your shitty name proud.

Remembering the old master, his final words had been lost in the roar of time as it twisted itself around Bagwis. His master's form had disintegrated into nothingness, erased from history like he'd never existed.

No one will remember me...

The last thought of a man who gave up everything for a pupil who was thrown aside and labeled worthless. Bagwis had wanted to scream at him, to tell him he didn't need the damn sacrifice. That he could have figured out another way. But the Lonewolf, in all his wisdom and madness, had chosen for him.

You really were a fool, old man, Bagwis thought darkly, staring down at the eaten food in front of him. The tavern's noise faded into the background as his mind replayed those final moments.

All that power and wisdom traded for my meager life. He took another bite of the tasteless meal, chewing it thoughtfully. I hope you're rotting in some boring place with all the beer you want, you old idiotic codger.

A flicker of a smile crossed his lips, though. For all his complaints, Bagwis knew the old man had seen something in him that no one else had. Not his family, not his peers, not even Bagwis himself at the time. The Lonewolf had seen potential—a chance for greatness. And he had gambled everything on it.

I don't intend to waste this hard given chance. I'll build something so grand, even you would been impressed and praise me to the heavens. Hell maybe I'll become way more legendary than you. No I WILL be more legendary than you, any less would be disrespectful as your one and only pupil.

Watch me, Master. You may be forgotten, but I'll make sure that the world would know of your existence—The Lonewolf lives!