The sun hung low over the empty wasteland, its dying light casting jagged shadows across the broken earth. Scorched trees stood like skeletons, silent witnesses to the devastation brought by Evolon's army years ago. Adam trudged through the dust, his hood drawn tight against the rough wind.
He stopped at the edge of a crumbled village—a place he didn't recognize but felt hauntingly familiar. Whatever left of homes and shattered walls, rumoured stories of many lives lost. Lives like his own.
"Another graveyard, huh" Adam muttered to himself under his breath, his voice hoarse from the dry air. He tightened his grip on the rusted sword at his side, the only weapon he had. "Doesn't matter. Gotta keep moving. Maybe I'll find some treasure or something." he chuckled to himself.
A mysterious noise broke the silence. Adam's hand went to the hilt of his sword out of pure instinct, as three shadowy figures emerged from the shadows of the rubble ahead. They were bandits—or worse. Their faces were hidden beneath makeshift masks, their weapons crude but deadly.
"Well, well, well" one of them sneered, stepping closer. "A little wanderer, all alone. Looks like we've found ourselves some fun."
Adam stopped and narrowed his eyes. "If you would like to live, step back. I don't want blood on my clothes since I just got these." he said, his voice steady but cold.
Their leader laughed, a sharp guttural sound. "Brave words for someone about to die. What's in that bag of yours, huh? Food? Water? Maybe something shiny?"
"There's nothing for you I'll tell you that much." Adam shifted his stance, his free hand brushing against the old pendant beneath his shirt—a relic from his past, one of the few things he had left. "This is your final warning. Like I said, I just got this shirt."
The bandit sneered. "Let's see how long that attitude lasts."
The first strike arrived quickly, a blur of motion as one bandit lunged at him. Adam sidestepped just in time, his sword flashing as it deflected a weathered axe. Sparks flew around as he countered with great precision.
"You don't listen, do you?" Adam said, his voice sharper now. He ducked under another swing and struck back, his blade catching the second attacker's weapon and forcing them back.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the clash of steel. Adam fought not just to defend himself, but to defy the emptiness that had consumed so much of his life.
When the dust finally settled, Adam stood over the unconscious bandits, breathing hard. His hands were trembling—not from fear, but from the reminder of how fragile survival in this world truly was.
He looked down at the lead bandit, now groaning on the ground. "I told you to walk away," Adam muttered, his tone frustrated.
Sheathing his sword, he turned and continued his journey, the horizon stretching endlessly before him. Somewhere out there, beyond the wasteland and the ruins, answers awaited him.
And he would find them.