Ensha And Exile

(FlashBack)

In a remote village nestled within the vast, unforgiving land of Jotunheim, two siblings from the renowned Avinata Clan thrived. Their clan was legendary, not for brute strength, but for the unique mastery of their minds—crafting techniques born from shadow and will. With a mere thought, they could reshape the world around them, bending both the lifeless and the living to whatever size they desired.

This extraordinary gift made them both revered and feared. At that time, Jotunheim was ruled by King Erga Kurgan, father of the current king, Kurgan. Erga was a man of swift, decisive action—ruthless and one-sided in his judgments. Every clan in Jotunheim tread carefully in his shadow, wary of his iron grip.

"I command you, Jisu," the king barked, his voice cold as the northern winds. "Spy on the Avinata Clan in the northwest. Word has reached me that one of them plots a coup against my reign!"

"As you wish, my lord," Jisu replied, his tone steady. Jisu was the finest guard in the kingdom, a man of unshakable loyalty. He was also the uncle of Kael Shangzi's father, hailing from the same proud Thalrune Clan.

In The Morning

The air in Jotunheim bit at the skin with its icy chill, carrying the damp scent of earth mingled with faint wisps of smoke rising from the village hearths.

Ensha adjusted the strap of her bow across her shoulder, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched her younger brother, Exile, practically vibrating with excitement. He's always so full of life, she thought, amused.

"You sure you can keep up with me?" she teased, ruffling Exile's already-messy black hair.

Exile pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I may be small, but I'm faster than you think!"

Ensha chuckled, shifting the dagger at her hip. "Alright, but stick close. No running off on your own, got it?"

Exile nodded eagerly, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "What are we hunting, Kak?" he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.

Ensha swung her bow onto her back with a grin. "Rabbits, maybe a deer if we're lucky. But if you keep making noise like that, we'll be chasing nothing but air."

Exile clapped both hands over his mouth, his eyes darting around as he tried to mimic the seriousness of a seasoned hunter. Ensha stifled a laugh and gave his head a playful pat. "Relax, little one. Just stay sharp, okay?"

They pressed deeper into the forest, their steps quieter now. Exile trailed behind, copying Ensha's nimble leaps over gnarled roots. Before long, Ensha raised a hand, signaling a halt. Exile froze, holding his breath, his gaze locked on her with eager anticipation.

Through the brush ahead, a gray rabbit scratched at the earth, oblivious to their presence. Ensha drew her bow with practiced grace, nocking an arrow and taking aim. The world seemed to still—wind whispering softly, her focus absolute.

Exile didn't dare twitch. He knew his sister's skill was unmatched. The bowstring tautened… then—TWANG! The arrow flew.

But in a blur of motion, the rabbit darted aside, dodging the shot with uncanny speed. Ensha and Exile stared, dumbfounded.

"Huh?"

The rabbit paused, glancing back at them—almost mockingly—before vanishing into the undergrowth.

Exile collapsed onto the ground, bursting into laughter. "K-Kak! That was… hahaha! A total miss!"

Ensha hissed, staring at the spot where the rabbit had been, disbelief etched across her face. "I never miss…"

Exile clutched his stomach, tears of mirth streaming down his face. "Maybe it's a god-rabbit's descendant!"

Ensha shook her head, but soon her own laughter bubbled up, joining his. In that fleeting moment, amidst the forest's chill, their shared warmth felt unbreakable. They settled onto a fallen log, soaking in the quiet beauty around them.

Exile gazed at his sister with unabashed admiration. "Kak Ensha, do you think I could ever be a hunter as great as you?"

She turned to him, her smile soft and tender. "Of course, Exile. With practice and trust in yourself, you'll get there."

He nodded firmly, determination blazing in his eyes. "Then I'll become the best hunter in all of Jotunheim!"

Ensha laughed lightly. "Guess I'd better train harder so you don't outshine me too soon."

Exile took a deep breath, watching the faint mist of his exhale curl into the air. "Kak, this is my first hunt with you. I'm so happy."

Her gaze softened, brimming with affection. "Really? I thought you'd rather be racing around the village than lugging a bow."

He scratched his head with a sheepish grin. "That's fun too, but… I want to spend more time with you, Kak. I want to be as strong as you."

Ensha fell silent for a moment, then pulled him into a tight embrace. "You don't need to be me, Exile. Just be you. You'll grow into someone incredible in your own way."

Exile nestled into her arms, a small smile breaking through. Then—GRROOOOKKKK!—his stomach roared like a beast unleashed.

Silence.

They locked eyes.

And then—"HAHAHAHA!" Ensha doubled over, laughing so hard she could barely breathe, while Exile's face turned crimson.

"K-Kak! Stop laughing! It's not my fault!"

She slapped her knee, gasping for air. "Oh, Exile… a future hunter, starving before we've even caught a single rabbit!"

He puffed out his cheeks. "I'm hungry because we've been laughing too long!"

Still giggling, Ensha stood and ruffled his hair again. "Alright, let's find something to eat before we hunt again."

"Deal!" Exile chirped, leaping to his feet. They ventured deeper, plucking sweet red berries from the bushes. Ensha handed a few to Exile, who popped one into his mouth and beamed.

"Delicious!"

As Exile munched happily, Ensha glanced skyward, then back at her brother. A quiet smile curved her lips. "I hope we can stay like this forever."

But that fleeting peace was doomed to shatter. As the sun dipped low, the sky bled red—not from dusk, but from flames roaring in the distance. Ensha squinted through the trees, her heart pounding as thick black smoke billowed from the direction of their village.

"Exile," she whispered, her voice taut with dread. "Stay behind me."

They sprinted back, branches clawing at their skin, breath ragged in their throats. No time to rest, no time to think. When they broke through the forest's edge, the sight before them froze their blood.

Their once-peaceful village lay in ruins. Flames devoured what remained of wooden homes, casting an eerie glow over the carnage. Bodies littered the ground—among them, their parents, sprawled lifeless before the main house, blood pooling beneath them. The air reeked of death.

Exile's scream pierced the night, his small form lurching toward their parents' corpses. But Ensha yanked him back, dragging him behind a massive tree. Tears streaked her face, yet survival trumped grief.

"We can't do anything now, Exile!" she hissed, voice trembling. "Stay calm!"

Exile sobbed silently, his body quaking. His world—the village he loved, the family he cherished—had crumbled to ash in an instant.

Amid the suffocating stillness, heavy footsteps approached. A towering figure emerged from the flickering flames, his scarred face twisted into a cruel grin. Gon, the infamous bandit lord of Jotunheim, stood amidst the wreckage, laughing with grim satisfaction.

"Told you we'd claim the Avinata Clan's treasures," he rasped, his voice like gravel. "Find those two siblings! They can't have gone far!"

Ensha's pulse thundered in her ears. Capture meant a fate worse than death. She gripped Exile's hand, whispering fiercely, "We run now. If it comes to it, use our clan's power. I'll protect you."

Exile nodded weakly, tears still spilling down his cheeks. They crept away, dodging between trees, but a snapped twig under Exile's foot betrayed them.

"There!" a bandit shouted, pointing.

Gon whirled around, his grin widening into something feral. "Catch them! They'll fetch a fortune on the black market!"

The siblings bolted, weaving through the forest, but the bandits' numbers overwhelmed them. Soon, they found themselves cornered at the edge of a sheer cliff.

"No escape," Gon sneered, advancing with his sword glinting in the moonlight. "Surrender, and we won't hurt you… too badly."

Ensha glared at him, clutching her bow, ready to fight despite the odds. But before she could act, Exile stepped forward, his once-innocent eyes now ablaze with fury.

"You killed my family," he said, his voice low and sharp as a blade. "You won't get away with this."

Before Gon could react, Exile raised a hand. Shadows writhed around him, alive and menacing. Trees shrank to mere toys, while boulders swelled into towering giants, blocking the bandits' path.

"This is the power of the Avinata Clan," Ensha murmured, awestruck by her quiet brother's sudden strength.

But Gon was unfazed. With a swift flick, he hurled an iron net, ensnaring both siblings in its grasp. They thrashed, but the bonds held tight.

"Your tricks mean nothing once you're caught," Gon taunted, stepping closer. "Now, you're mine."

Bound and helpless, Ensha and Exile were dragged to a hidden camp deep within the dense forest—a wretched place filled with the broken remnants of war, abductions, and clan feuds. Here, people were no longer human, but commodities stripped of dignity and hope.

The siblings were thrown into a cramped wooden cage alongside dozens of others. The air stank of rot and despair, pierced by cries of pain and muted sobs. Bruised and bloodied from resisting, they collapsed, exhaustion claiming what defiance remained.

Exile, young and fragile, bore the brunt of the bandits' cruelty. They forced him to haul massive stones, clean weapons, and dig pits for the dead, his small hands blistered and torn. Yet he never complained. The spark in his eyes, once so bright, faded to a hollow void.

Ensha, wracked with guilt, felt she'd failed him. Each night, as the clank of chains and jeers subsided, she held him close, offering what little warmth she could muster.

"We have to survive," she whispered whenever his hope waned. "Remember our promise? One day, we'll return to Jotunheim and make them pay."

But her words rang hollow even to herself. Exile's silence grew heavier, his faith in escape slipping away.

The Black Market

Weeks later, Gon decided their fate: Ensha and Exile would be sold. They were hauled to an underground market, a cesspool where humanity was bartered like livestock. The stench of blood, sweat, and liquor hung thick as slavers, pirates, and bounty hunters haggled over lives.

Chained and displayed on a platform, the siblings endured the leers of buyers. Rough hands prodded their faces, tugged their hair, assessing their worth.

A corpulent man in a black robe approached, his eyes glinting with greed. "How much for them?" he demanded of Gon.

"They're special," Gon boasted. "The older one's a crack shot with a bow, and the kid's got some freakish power. You'll profit big."

The man laughed, a guttural sound. "I'll take the little one. He looks easier to break."

"No!" Ensha lunged forward, chains rattling. "Don't split us up!"

Gon smirked. "Buyer's choice. Pay more if you want them together."

Before the deal could close, a figure cloaked in black stepped forth. Her piercing gaze cut through the crowd, her presence chilling the air. She studied the siblings with hawk-like intensity.

"I'll take both," she declared, her voice flat yet commanding. The market fell silent. This was Zonkoku, a mercenary whose name struck terror across Jotunheim. None dared defy her.

"Price doesn't matter," she continued. "I want them now."

Gon hesitated, then nodded. "They're yours."

Brutal Training Under Zonkoku

Zonkoku whisked them to a desolate fortress buried in the wilderness, a grim bastion echoing with screams from its depths. What awaited them there was no mere captivity—it was torment cloaked as discipline.

Zonkoku was a master of breaking souls. She knew physical pain alone wouldn't suffice; she'd shatter their spirits first. Each night, she forced them before a roaring bonfire, its dancing shadows twisting across stone walls. There, her lessons began.

"You think life is fair?" she asked one evening, her voice a blade slicing through the dark. "That your precious Avinata powers will save you? No one cares about justice in this world. The strong endure. The weak perish."

Exile bowed his head, tears falling silently. Ensha clenched her fists, fighting to stay resolute, but Zonkoku's words seeped into her like venom.

"Your family's dead," Zonkoku pressed on, her tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "Your village is ash. There's nothing left to return to. So choose: grow strong and survive, or die like the fools before you."

Ensha's resolve hardened, a silent vow forming within her. They'd endure—for revenge, if nothing else.

The Second Phase: Brutal Physical Training

With their minds poisoned, Zonkoku unleashed her true crucible. This was no training—it was torture in disguise.

For Ensha, it meant endless runs across jagged terrain, her feet bleeding and raw. When she stumbled, lashes rained down without mercy. She faced multiple foes at once, battered and weary, her body pushed beyond its limits.

But the worst came when Zonkoku forced her bow upon the helpless—fellow slaves, abducted like them. "Shoot, or I kill your brother," she threatened.

Heart splintering, Ensha loosed an arrow into a trembling captive. With each shot, a piece of her died. Yet she learned a bitter truth: strength demanded sacrifice.

Exile's ordeal was darker still. Zonkoku preyed on his fragile mind, conjuring illusions of their clan's massacre—reliving the screams, the blood, over and over. "This is your family dying," she whispered into his subconscious. "You were too weak to save them."

He shook uncontrollably, terror consuming him. Physically, she pushed his Avinata gifts to their brink—shrinking himself to escape traps, enlarging stones to crush targets. Failure meant whippings or submersion in icy pools until he hovered near death.

Months of this forged them into weapons, but Zonkoku craved a final test. In a cramped arena, she pitted them against each other.

"Kill, or I'll end you both," she warned.

Ensha and Exile faced off, breathless and torn. They couldn't—wouldn't—harm one another. Ensha fired an arrow to disarm Exile, who countered with a shadow illusion to confuse her. At the last second, they stopped, united in defiance.

"We won't do it!" Ensha roared. "If you want us dead, do it yourself!"

Zonkoku's lips curled into a frigid smile. "Good. You've learned you're stronger together."

Then she raised the stakes. "But what about them? Will you kill to save your precious sibling?"

She summoned ten children—hostages for Ensha's next choice: slay them to spare Exile, or sacrifice him to save them. As they were ushered into the execution arena, Ensha's breath caught. These weren't strangers—they were her childhood friends from the Avinata Clan.

"K… you…" Her voice faltered, tears brimming as she faced them.

"Ensha!" one cried out.

"Don't do this," pleaded Arlen, his voice quaking. "We've accepted our fate."

"No!" Ensha snapped, her resolve cracking. "I won't let you die for nothing!"

But her gaze shifted to Exile, kneeling in the corner, weeping silently. His eyes met hers, heavy with guilt. She knew losing him would destroy her beyond repair.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, barely audible.

With a leaden heart, she approached her friends. Their eyes held fear, yet also forgiveness. Some forced smiles, as if to absolve her. But Ensha's soul shattered before her blade even rose.

"I have to," she choked out. "For you, brother…"

The sword fell. Blood sprayed, screams echoing as her friends collapsed one by one. Arlen stood last, trembling but defiant, until he too crumpled.

Exile watched, horrified, as his sister slaughtered their kin. His sobs turned to terrified wails. But before the nightmare could end, Zonkoku seized him, thrusting a knife into his hand.

"Your turn, little one," she said coldly. "Kill yourself, or kill the sister you love. Choose, or I'll carve her apart before your eyes."

Ensha surged forward, desperate to take the blade herself. "Exile, don't! I've sacrificed them already—don't throw your life away too!"

But Exile, trembling, met her gaze. "I'm sorry, Kak. I can't let you die here."

SHUNK!

The knife plunged into his chest, piercing his heart. He crumpled instantly, lifeless.

Ensha froze, time itself halting. Her wide eyes locked on her brother's tiny, broken body, blood pooling beneath him. The world went mute—her friends' dying cries replaced by an unbearable void.

"EXILE!" Her scream tore through the silence, raw and anguished. She dropped beside him, hands shaking as they brushed his still face—once so full of joy, now empty forever.

Tears streamed unchecked, not just of regret or rage, but of utter ruin. She'd lost everything in one devastating blow.

Zonkoku loomed above, her smile a glacial mask of triumph. "A beautiful sacrifice," she mused, as if critiquing a play. "But look what it's cost you, Ensha. Your friends, your brother, your humanity—all gone. Now, you're truly mine."

Ensha didn't hear her. She clutched Exile's body, willing his warmth to return. "Forgive me… forgive me, Exile. I couldn't save you…"

The agony of holding him—the one she'd fought to protect, now dead by her failure—ripped her apart.

"What's the point?" she murmured, voice hollow. "What's the point of living when everything's gone?"

But a faint voice broke through. "Ensha…"

She whirled, stunned. Arlen lay nearby, bloodied and broken, yet clinging to life. His pale face glistened with sweat, his breaths shallow, but his eyes flickered with fading light.

"Arlen… you're alive?" she gasped, incredulous.

He managed a weak smile, pain etched into every line. "You… you can't give up, Ensha. Don't let her… destroy you completely."

"But I failed!" she cried, voice fracturing. "I killed you all! Even my own brother died because of me!"

Arlen shook his head faintly. "It's not your fault… it's Zonkoku. She used you, played you. You have to rise… for us, for Exile. Don't let this be for nothing."

Zonkoku descended from her perch, her steps deliberate, each one a hammer against Ensha's skull. She stood over her, radiating cold victory.

"How does it feel to lose everything, Ensha?" she taunted. "I gave you a chance to survive, but you chose poorly. Now, you're nothing—just a tool in my hands."

Ensha stared blankly, her spirit seemingly fled. Yet deep within, a ember of rage sparked—small, fragile, but alive. She wasn't done.

"I can bring your brother back," Zonkoku said suddenly, her tone shifting. "But there's a price. Serve me, or he's gone forever. The choice is yours."

With that, she left Ensha alone amidst the carnage—her brother's corpse, her friends' blood, and the suffocating darkness closing in.