"Listen up," Jin said , his voice cold and commanding "We follow the path to Dragon's Haven"
Genta stood up, his muscles bulging. "Not yet. I will take you to my base. You said you wanted strength in numbers, and I will lend my bandit army to you."
Jin began contemplating which path he should choose.
"Go straight into Dragon's Haven , or head to the bandits' base and risk getting ganged up on there."
He weighed the pros and cons.
"straight to Dragon's Haven means less time wasted, however a smaller group. The bandits' base means I get a bigger army but also risk falling into a trap they devised."
Jin's eyes flicked between the dense forest and the path ahead. Dragon's Haven... guarded, dangerous, but the fastest route. The bandits' base... a gamble that could either swell our numbers or spell disaster. He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down. He couldn't afford to lose time, but strength was key...
He was deep in thought until he saw Genta.
"He's far too dumb to orchestrate a whole trap."
Jin felt the weight of the decision slowly being lifted "How far is your base?"
A bandit croaked "A two hour journey on foot"
Jin considered this "Then we go into Dragon's Haven. The horses there will prove useful in cutting that two hour journey down"
Genta took off to Dragon's Haven—except he went the other way.
"You idiot! It's the other way!" a bandit shouted.
Genta turned around and dashed past them—this time on the correct path to Dragon's Haven.
"Why's he running" Aiko asked a bandit.
"He just loves running" The bandit responded.
Jin walked casually.
"That Genta guy sure is an idiot" He said.
A bandit chuckled "That's true , but when it really counts, that's the guy who earns our loyalty"
Jin had a faint smile "Tell me more about him." He asked the bandit.
The bandit started recounting Genta's glory days.
[5 years ago—Bandit's memory]
That's when we first met him.
He was different, not your typical fighter
He was a force to be reckoned with. Crewham, the land where crews battled eachother endlessly vying for power, territory and wealth. The streets were a battlefield, ruled by chaos. It was wild and lawless, often ran by who could throw the hardest punch or swing the heaviest weapon.
He wasn't like the others. Where the crews fought in disorganised fury. He was a lone warrior. He didn't win by tactics or cunning. He simply crushed each crew that stood against him. His attacks were unmatched — and he shrugged off attacks like they were nothing.
One by one, the rival crews fell beneath his unstoppable force. No one could match him in raw power. His sheer might overwhelmed every opponent until the crews had no choice but to submit.
By seventeen, Genta had began his rise and by 21 he had unified Crewham—not through clever plans or strategy, but by being the strongest, the most fearsome fighter around. The gangs who once fought endlessly now answered to him, bound by respect for his unmatched strength — hence the nickname that is tied to him "The man everyone follows"
There were tales that he attempted and succeeded in uprooting a tree. Muscles bulging . Veins threatening to burst. Feet digging in to the ground like anchors. His jaw clenched tight, and a low, guttural roar escaped his throat with each pull. leaves rustled violently, and the tree groaned in resistance—but he refused to let go.
Genta's rule was simple: strength is everything. And in Crewham, no one was stronger than him.
But then something terrible happened a year after the unification of Crewham.
He didn't lose a fight. He didn't suffer betrayal.
He lost interest.
The excitement faded. The fire in his chest dimmed.
He was unmatched — the strongest man in the province, feared and respected. But with that strength came a crushing boredom. Every fight was predictable, every opponent a mere obstacle to crush. Slowly, that boredom turned into a suffocating lethargy. The thrill was gone, and with it, his will to push forward.
With power came isolation. The endless victories became monotonous. The roar of battle turned into a dull hum. The adrenaline that once fuelled him faded
Days passed without purpose. He wandered aimlessly through the forests, no longer feeling the fire that once burned in his chest. His bandit crew remained loyal but saw their leader drifting — strong, yes, but hollow.
The forests became his home, though he barely noticed. He slept beneath ancient trees, letting the wind pass through his silence. Sometimes he'd stare up at the sky for hours, unmoving, as if waiting for something — a sign, a purpose, anything.
Birds would land near him, unafraid. Wolves would cross his path and lower their heads. Nature respected strength in ways humans never could.
But Genta?
He didn't see reverence anymore. Just emptiness.
He became a shadow of his former self.
He stopped training. Stopped giving orders. Enemies still tried their luck from time to time, but he didn't even strike back. He'd stand there, take their blows, and let them burn out. Then walk away. His crew started handling battles themselves — not because they wanted to, but because he wouldn't move. Nights passed with him staring into a fire that no longer warmed him. His silence wasn't thoughtful — it was hollow.
[Present time]
The bandit continued on with his story.
It intrigued Jin to hear a story of such a fighter descend into a shadow of themselves due to lethargy.
"The reason he was so quick to kneel to you is because of your strength, "The bandit said in a happy tone "You showed him there are people stronger than him and that alleviated his boredom"
Jin smiled "If I were to fight him before lethargy would I win?"
The bandit sighed , almost like he was disappointed by the question "You are strong but Genta? He was on another level. Unless you have the power to weather a storm with no limits, I doubt even you could beat him"
"That 'weather a storm with no limits'... sounds like a tall order," Jin muttered to himself, voice low but resolute.