Amukelo: The Burdened Path

The morning sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow through the ebtrance of the cave. Amukelo stretched his arms, his body still adjusting to sleeping in a place that wasn't completely solitary. He had rested, but his mind still felt on edge. Being surrounded by others after months of isolation was strange, and his instincts hadn't fully let him relax yet.

Bral, already up and moving, clapped his hands together. "Alright, everyone. Today, we'll continue our travel." His tone was brisk, carrying its usual energy, but then he turned to Amukelo.

"But first—" Bral took a deliberate step toward him. "You, Amukelo, need to clean."

Amukelo blinked. His posture stiffened slightly, already bracing for what was coming.

"And listen," Bral continued, lifting a hand before Amukelo could protest, "I don't want to be impolite or anything, but… bad odor can draw attention from animals or monsters. And, honestly, it can also just be distracting when we're walking next to you."

Amukelo awkwardly shifted his weight. He had seen this coming. Bao's complaints from the night before had made it obvious, but hearing it laid out so plainly still made him feel a little self-conscious.

Still, he nodded, exhaling through his nose. "No problem. No need to be like this. I get it. I understand that it might not be the most pleasant for you guys."

Bral's expression softened slightly, and a grin crept onto his face. "That's the right attitude."

Pao, who had just finished adjusting her cloak, perked up. "Once you clean yourself, I can use my magic to make your clothes smell like vanilla!"

Bao groaned audibly. "Pao, that's not the solution. He needs to actually clean."

"I know, I know! I was just offering a final touch!"

Idin chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Let's get moving. We'll find a good place for him to clean up soon enough."

And with that, the group set off.

They walked for a while, moving through the landscape with ease now that they weren't constantly watching for threats. Amukelo followed slightly behind, not used to walking in a group. He had spent so long traveling alone that adjusting to their pace, matching their rhythm, felt unnatural. But at the same time, it was strangely comfortable. There was a certain efficiency to traveling with others—watching each other's backs, scouting ahead, covering more ground.

Then, as they passed through a break in the trees, a lake came into view.

The water was clear and still, reflecting the sky like glass. The edge of the lake was lined with smooth stones, and a gentle breeze rolled over the surface, creating faint ripples. It was a peaceful place.

Bral, walking at the front, nodded in approval. "Alright, let's stop here."

He turned to Amukelo, pointing toward the water. "Go and clean yourself. We'll wait for you on the shore."

Amukelo nodded without complaint. He wasn't thrilled about it, but he understood.

Before he could take a step, Bao crossed her arms.

"We'll wait by the edge of the forest," she declared. "We don't need the entire team standing guard while he bathes."

Bral raised an eyebrow, then suddenly smiled mischievously.

Bao's eyes narrowed immediately. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing, nothing," Bral said, raising his hands in mock innocence. "I'm just happy we have beautiful weather. It's finally warm, isn't it? It was cold for so long."

Bao glanced up at the sky, frowning slightly. "It has been warming up…" she muttered before shaking her head. "Whatever. Just make it quick."

She turned on her heel, heading toward the treeline, Pao following behind her cheerfully. Idin and Bral, meanwhile, walked down toward the lake with Amukelo.

Once they reached the shore, Amukelo slipped off the cloak Bral had given him, setting it down carefully on a nearby rock. He felt the weight of Bral and Idin's gazes on him as they finally got a good look at his clothes.

Bral let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "You know what… just throw away your current clothes."

Amukelo paused mid-motion. "What?"

Bral gestured at him, exasperated. "Look at them, Amukelo. They're bloodstained, covered in dirt, probably filled with things we don't want to think about. Just get rid of them."

Amukelo looked down at himself. He saw the stains, the grime, the tears in the fabric. But to him, they were just clothes. Functional. Worn, yes, but still usable. "Why? I think they're fine."

Bral let out a short laugh, rubbing his forehead. "You must have been living in the wild for a long time if you think that."

Idin smirked. "You know he has. He nearly lost his mind over travel rations last night."

Amukelo scowled.

Bral grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Just trust me on this one. Cleaning won't help much. Take these—" he handed over a spare pair of pants. "With the cloak, you'll be warm enough."

Amukelo sighed in defeat. "If you say so…"

Bral grinned. "I do. Now, just change into those pants and clean yourself. We'll stay here and make sure no weird creatures jump at you while you bathe."

Amukelo took the clothes and walked toward the water.

As Amukelo stepped further into the lake, the water rose to his chest, the coolness seeping into his skin and washing away the accumulated grime of months spent in the wild. His hands ran over his arms, his chest, his legs—rubbing away layers of dried sweat, dirt, and blood. The water around him darkened slightly as the filth lifted from his body, dispersing into the lake. He had bathed in rivers before, washed himself with whatever rainwater or small streams he could find, but this was different.

For the first time in a long while, he was properly cleaning himself.

As he worked, his thoughts drifted.

He was heading to Llyn. But then what?

He had no goal other than getting stronger—strong enough to become like Elian the Resolute. That was the only thing that drove him forward, the only purpose he had clung to since leaving his village. But now that he was actually approaching civilization, how was he supposed to achieve that?

He had no experience with the world beyond the wilderness and the stories his mother used to tell him. She had told him of knights, warriors, great duels, and legends of strength and perseverance—but how much of that was reality? He knew how to survive, how to hunt, how to kill when necessary. But in a town? A place filled with rules, order, structure—what would he do? Would they even accept him?

The thought made his stomach twist slightly.

"Hey, Amukelo!" Bral's voice boomed from the shore, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Don't forget to clean your hair too!"

Amukelo turned his head toward them, squinting slightly against the sunlight reflecting off the water. Bral was standing at the edge, arms crossed with a smirk. "It's gotten a little long, so clean it well. We'll cut it after."

Amukelo sighed but nodded. He dipped under the water, running his fingers through his hair, loosening the knots and washing away the dirt that had built up over time. Strands floated around him before sinking into the lake.

As he surfaced again, pushing the excess water from his face, he was about to call out that he was done.

Then he heard a loud splash from behind. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

His eyes snapped toward the disturbance, his breath catching as he caught sight of something massive lunging toward him from beneath the surface.

The serpent-like fish shot out of the water, its slick, scaly body arcing through the air. It was long—easily twice the length of his arm—its body twisting unnaturally as it moved. Its mouth snapped open, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Amukelo raised his arm just as the creature ststruck. Pain exploded through him as its jaws clamped down, sinking its teeth into his forearm.

A sharp, guttural scream escaped him, but not from fear—just pain.

The fish thrashed violently, its powerful body wrapping around his arm in an effort to tighten its grip. Amukelo gritted his teeth, forcing himself to think past the pain.

He grabbed the creature with his free hand, trying to pry its mouth open, but its jaws refused to budge. He could feel the teeth grinding against his bone.

From the shore, Bral's voice yelled in alarm. "Amukelo!"

But before Bral could react, Idin stepped forward. "I've got this."

Amukelo barely registered the words as he focused on forcing the fish off of him. He squeezed its body harder, trying to make it release first, but it was relentless. His fingers dug into its scaly flesh, tightening his grip.

He was about to go for its eyes, his nails pressing against the slimy surface, when he saw a fast movement and heard a whistle through the air. 

The broadsword struck the fish with brutal precision, severing its head from its long, twisting body.

The weight on Amukelo's arm suddenly disappeared. The jaw loosened, and the severed head dropped into the water.

Amukelo stood there, blinking in momentary confusion. His instincts had been in full control—his mind was still catching up.

Then it hit him. He wasn't alone. He was traveling with people.

Amukelo exhaled sharply, shaking the water from his wounded arm. The wound was deep, the skin torn where the teeth had sunk in, but compared to everything else he had endured, it was nothing.

His eyes flickered toward Idin, who was lowering his arm after the throw, his expression calm and focused. Bral was still standing nearby, his brows raised slightly as if both relieved and impressed.

Amukelo glanced at his arm, then at the lifeless fish head floating in the water. He grabbed it and flung it away from him, sending it splashing back into the lake.

He looked down at the wound. It bled, but it wasn't crippling. He had no other injuries currently, and he was used to this kind of pain.

But what he wasn't used to—was having people who would help.