Lost Echoes

In the bustling city streets, amidst the chaos and noise, stands a man who looks to be in his 20's, with an air of mystery surrounding him.

His most striking feature is his long and lustrous hair, cascading down his back in a flowing mane, which he ties in a small man-bun.

Tall and lean, with beautiful brown eyes, he possesses an ethereal beauty that belies his current circumstances.

Beneath the surface of his captivating appearance lies the reality of his existence. Cloaked in tattered garments, he is a beggar that relies on the goodwill of others to sustain his life.

"Thank you," he says with an emotionless face as he accepts another stranger's money.

To himself and the world, he is simply known as "N," a name chosen out of necessity to not forget one of his fading memory, which was owning a shirt that had "N" written on the back.

The oldest memory N could recollect was him opening his eyes in a city he never remembered travelling to, surrounded by people who spoke a language he did not understand.

Ever since then, he has travelled from one city to another. He would spend months or years in a city to learn the culture and languages by listening to random people talk.

He became a connoisseur of the world.

Currently N finds himself spending time within the labyrinthine alleys of Vrijheidd city.

In the city he sees magnificent spires reaching towards the heavens, bearing testament to a past steeped in grandeur.

He wandered in search of something he couldn't name—a purpose that remained frustratingly elusive.

N's eyes were lifeless. A ship without anchor, the weight of his unknown past burdened him.

Every year he would realize that his body was not growing, as if he was stuck in the past, refusing to wither to time.

In his long life, as he moved from city to city, he witnessed acts of kindness and selflessness, but also the ugliness of greed and cruelty. It was a world both beautiful and flawed, a paradox he struggled to completely comprehend.

As twilight painted the sky with hues of orange and purple, N's heart felt heavy with the weight of his own insignificance. He questioned his purpose, his place in this vast world.

In the depths of his contemplation, N stumbled upon a secluded alleyway, hidden from the bustling streets. There, he leaned against the cold stone wall, his mind lost in a sea of thoughts.

And then, amidst the ebb and flow of humanity, destiny whispered its call. N's gaze was drawn to a commotion down a dimly lit alley.

There, he would witness a scene that would change his life.

A young girl stood surrounded by a group of thugs, who were harassing her.

The girl's desperate pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the jeers and laughter of her assailants.

N was indifferent to what has happening in front of him. Having witnessed countless horrible acts, he had grown cynical, convinced that intervening to save the girl would lead to nothing.

Yet he stood there, in the shadows, watching. Perhaps it was his conscious that stopped him there, wanting to help the girl.

While N was having an internal struggle, a figure emerged from the shadows. A man of indomitable spirit and unwavering resolve.

The man looked to be in his twenties, and he wore a pristine white uniform of sorts and at his hip was a black belt decorated by unknown yellow lines.

The atmosphere shifted, charged with anticipation as the lone warrior confronted the overwhelming odds.

"No need to explain anything. I am giving you all one chance, leave right now if you want your bones intact." Says the stranger to the grunts in front of him.

The grunts start laughing and start to move towards the stranger saying "You think you can take us on eh? You're dying today!"

The stranger simply smiles.

The first assailant lunged forward, a blade aimed at the stranger's heart. With a deft twist of their body, the warrior evaded the strike, retaliating with a swift kick to his knee. That broke his leg and caused him to drop his knife as he fell to the ground screaming in agony.

The second assailant, fueled by rage, unleashed a flurry of blows, but each one was met with a calculated parry, and then the warrior clutches the grunts hair and smashes his head into the wall.

N's eyes widened as he witnessed the stranger's mastery of combat. It was not merely physical prowess that guided their movements, but an uncanny intuition, a deep understanding of the flow of battle.

The stranger's movements were a symphony of skill, each strike finding its mark with deadly precision. They anticipated their attackers' every move, countering with a fluidity that defied logic.

As the fight continued, the stranger's movements became more fluid, more beautiful.

Their body seemed to blend seamlessly with the rhythm of combat, their motions an extension of their very being. It was as if they were an extension of the very air they breathed, an embodiment of untamed power.

The assailants, initially brimming with confidence, faltered in the face of the stranger's relentless assault.

Their initial jeers turned to panic, their collective strength crumbling beneath the weight of their own malevolence.

A few grunts then decide to gang up on the warrior.

After surrounding the warrior, the grunts used their metal bats to break the warrior's bones.

One grunt swung the bat with all his strength, aiming for the warrior's head. The warrior simply grabbed another grunt and brought him in the bat's trajectory.

The grunts were amateurs who were not used to fighting against someone as powerful as the warrior.

Therefore, one by one, slowly but surely, the stranger dispatched his adversaries, a symphony of skill and power that left N in awe.

N, his lifeless eyes transfixed on the dance of battle, felt a flicker of something stir within his chest. The dormant embers of his forgotten self began to smolder, as if the sight before him had breathed some life into his hollow existence.

The final foe, driven by desperation, launched a reckless attack, their eyes filled with a primal fury. But the stranger, undeterred, simply sidestepped, their movements almost preternatural.

In a blur of motion, the warrior's hand shot forward, palm open, connecting with the attacker's stomach, propelling the assailant backward. They crashed into the cold stone wall, the impact reverberating through the alley.

Silence settled, broken only by the stranger's labored breaths.

The girl proceeds to thank the warrior for his help, as tears run down her cheeks. The warrior quickly comforts the girl and asks if she needs help going home.

The girl calms down and reassures the man that she would have no problem reaching her home, and that she would now stay away from secluded alleys.

N stood at the edge of the battlefield, his lifeless eyes wide with wonder.

The stranger, their back still turned to him, stood amidst the wreckage, their presence commanding and enigmatic.

N's lifeless eyes flickered with a hint of awe, his heart stirring with a newfound ember of purpose.

In that moment, N knew he had witnessed something extraordinary.

The stranger's victory had breathed life into his own desolate existence, stirring a long-dormant desire for understanding and strength.

With each step he took, the weight of his forgotten past grew lighter, dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

The world around him seemed to fade, leaving only the enigmatic figure before him, their eyes never meeting.

A flicker of purpose ignited within him, urging him forward into the unknown.

The shadows of uncertainty retreated, replaced by a glimmer of determination in his lifeless eyes.

He was ready to embark on a quest for self-discovery, driven by the enigmatic encounter that had set his heart ablaze.

And so, in the depths of just another city he found himself in, N moved closer to the warrior who had unknowingly ignited his purpose.

With the girl now gone, the warrior quickly turns towards the shadows.

He looks at N and says, "So you decided to hide as I was beating up all of your friends, huh."

N, although perplexed, is quickly able to realize why the man would think N as part of the assailant's group.

To calm the man down N says, "Do not worry child, I am not affiliated with those thugs."

To which the man asks, "Then why are you approaching me, and why did you not help the girl. I noticed you in the shadows from the start."

N says, "Why I remained in the shadows is a long story, but the reason I'm approaching you is simple," he says as he smiles for maybe the first time in his forgotten life, with eyes now starting to seemingly glow, desiring growth, "Oh you beacon of strength. Witnessing your unwavering resolve has lit up my lifeless existence. Might I have the honor of engaging in a conversation with you, delving into the depths of strength."