Age of the Hunt: The Protector

The year is 2561 and due to very awkward political and sociological reasons that have something to do with a cold war and a sky-dive in world's economics, things are extremely different.

This is a time when the human race traced back to its origins, a time when it regained the pleasure and joy of a hunter. This was a society where you could hunt anything; what you killed, you could keep; no endangered species and no sacred grounds to preserve, just the thrill of the hunt. You could even hunt humans BUT that was far from easy for you see…a boy would be able to tell smells even before he could talk, he would learn to run rather than walk, he would know how to defend himself from a bear before he reached 8 years old and would hunt alone for the first time at 10 years of age. A time where every man was strong, fast, agile and with keen senses because everyone else had been killed during the well known natural selection by the name of "Survival of the Fittest", which had been at work for centuries now. Thus the greatest prey in the world was, in fact, man.

A line of Kings, the greatest hunters of all, ruled this free Darwinian driven world with a justice and might worthy of their position. But from all of the kings, none other ever had the people's appreciation like King Jileo, the Honourable. Like all kings before him, he kept all weapons banned except those that were of the blunt and blade variety; he also travelled the world hunting animals, and killing whatever man attempted to take his position as the world's strongest...

As you can imagine, most of the animal races had disappeared, gone extinct. But hunger was no longer a problem; the hunting business sorted itself out and there were breeding farms all over the globe with more than enough food for all of Jileo's people.

Tigers, foxes, lions, cheetahs, bears, wolves and a lot of other strong and proud creatures like the hawk, the falcon, the eagle, the shark, the whale, the dolphin can only be found on books. This is an age where civilized man has gained the taste for the chase and the challenge of a kill, where the exceptionally physically perfect human being in your mind has become the average 17 year old. This... is the AGE OF THE HUNT, and it was during Jileo's time that it would come to an end.

But that is another tale; the tale that is told here is but a legend proven true by me sources.



"Have you heard? Have you heard about the protector?" An athletic, scar-full and seasoned man asked. He was dressed in a T-Shirt and trousers, with knife holsters at his torso. He was the bar keep at this bar, and obviously an old hunter settling down. The woman he had asked wore a red cloak with a hood which successfully hid most of her face in shadow.

She promptly replied "no, I was in the wild for the past months."

"Ahhh, then listen and behold: It is rumoured and told that there is one man that is not a hunter."

"Preposterous."

"'Fraid not. That man travels across Jileo's immense territory accompanied by preys, he protects them from hunters."

"You mean he uses them as bait to hun-"

"No," the man interrupted her, aggravated. "He has forsaken the age we live in. Some of those who attack his protégés are just defeated, not killed."

"What?!"

"The amazing thing is that word of his death has not yet reached ears. Which means not one hunter has yet to claim his name. Instead, always do the hunters show up defeated, or dead."

"You are tricking this huntress, are you not?"

"No," a man at her side said, interrupting the conversation. He was rather small and looked frail, like he hadn't fought in years. He was missing a hand too. Dressed in dirty rags, pimpled and dirty.

"I saw him. I hunted him years ago. I trapped and killed one of his animals... a rabbit. I fought him, but he was too skilled, and ended up cutting off my han--"

Her cloak fluttered and a blade thrust at the man's throat, but he leaned backwards and pushed the counter with his wrist, so to fall to the ground; he skilfully rolled and leapt towards the exit, but a dagger plunged into his back, sending him into crashing against the door, breaking it.

He left the tavern with a fall, rolling over a bit, already dead.

She, though, stood still, sitting, her arm stretched out due to the throw.

"Why hadn't anyone claimed that kill yet?"

"What would be the fun in accomplishing such an easy task?" the bartender replied, while he cleaned a glass, smiling mischievously.  

"Things have certainly changed while I was out," the woman commented, already on her way out. "Human is the ultimate prey: the kill count is all that matters." She grabbed the knife. "Yes, one enjoys a challenge, and thus the strong, but hunters prey on the weak too. 'Tis the way of life and how Men became the strongest of opponents."

She whipped the dagger at the air, getting the blood off; then she plucked one hair from his head, and placed it somewhere inside her cloak.

"An idealist, are we?" the bartender questioned with a smirk.

"Aren't we all?" she asked, angry.

"Hahahahaahha. He was alive because he has a big brother. And his big brother has a kill count greater than all of us put together." He smiled, "I'm curious to see what happens next."

The woman, under the cover of her hood, bit her lip, worried, but still came through.

"I cower before nothing! What happens next is-"

"What happens next is I crush your brains all over the floor!" A voice came from her side.

She heard a blade cutting the wind and thus jumped back, avoiding it. She drew her two short-blades, wielding them upside down, and crossed them to make a fighting stance.

She lookd over at her opponent, and what she saw was a 2 meter tall muscular red-head, with brown eyes, grasping the biggest sword she had ever seen in her life. He was wearing torso and leg armour, with a red cape and steel gauntlets on his forearms. The Zanbattou was already coming in for another horizontal attack.

Unable to defend, she jumped back again, but he leapt towards her, waving his sword from side up so to bringing it down on her.

He was much more agile than her. So much so her mind was frantically hoping she'd touch the ground before the sword reached her. She drew her swords higher to defend but then felt the ground below her feet. With purpose, she immediately hopped and spun to her left. The blade grazed her nose and chest.

The motion had uncovered the hood; she had short brown hair and black eyes, Caucasian complexion. The Zambattou smashed clear a small crater on the floor; the man was already swinging again.

But she jumped back, turned away, and ran for her life.

"COME BACK HERE, YOU BITCH!!" Big Brother gave chase.

"Hahahhhahaha, so often does the hunter become the hunted. Shall we witness how this ends, boys?" He asked the whole bar, a question to all grunts who respectively smiled, smirked and grinned at him, getting up.

Luckily the giant sword slowed him down a notch, about to her speed.

She took turns, used empty buildings and miraculous jumps atop rooftops but nothing worked. She couldn't lose him.

Ironically, she saw a couple also fleeing from a group of hunters; the female was pregnant.

In these days of Age, pregnant women made for great preys. Slow and unwilling to damage their offspring with too much movement, they normally hid or had their man protect them: the strong survive.

She was strong, but her pursuer was stronger and apparently a good chaser; she ran into the huge forest, from where she had arrived, in an attempt to lose him there.

They ran for hours, both controlling their breathing as they ran lower on stamina; in the end, hers were the limbs that collapsed first from exhaustion.

She tripped and rolled violently, crashing against a tree. In desperation, she threw four knives which he slapped away with his free hand, still in his run, before leaping into the air, bringing his behemoth of a sword with him for a downward slash.

Surprisingly though, he suddenly turned it and stuck it in the ground to halt his inertia. The second after, three arrows pierced the space in front of him.

He landed and promptly stated, looking at her.

"Your traps won't work!" He waved his sword around, and let it go, literally throwing it away.

The sword ravished a tree whilst the man, that had been in it, hopped to land on the ground, at its side.

He was black skinned with black hair and brown eyes, athletic with muscular limbs; he wielded a small crossbow in each hand, a shield at his back, a sword at his left hilt.

"That was foolish." He aimed his crossbows and shot.

The unarmed man, with blurring speed, blocked all arrows simply by motioning his arms so that they'd hit his gauntlets.

"Ha!" he reacted. The woman looked on, confused, for this was no trap of hers. In fact, she intended to take advantage of the interruption, and flee as soon as she could.

Her rescuer then let go of his crossbows, drawing upon his sword and shield.

"I will offer this one chance. Go," he stated as warning.

"What? You're not with her? HA! Interesting, what's your reason for this?"

But the saviour did nothing but aim his sword as a last warning.

"Fine, I'll find out before killing you," The giant said, pounding his fists, enthusiastically. "What's your name?"

"Otai Kyumbo."

"I'm Vaarshi Pikto."

"The War Monger?"

"Heh, bring it!"  

Otai started with a sword thrust, deflected by Vaarshi's right forearm; he brought the sword back and around to slash at his left shoulder but Vaarshi ducked under it, side-stepped unto Otai's opening and delivered a violent left punch; Otai was fast, though, turning to place his shield in the way; it threw him off balance, the sheer force of the blow.

Vaarshi grabbed his shield and pulled hard on it, throwing Otai away and to the ground.

"Steady there, ha ha," Vaarshi mocked.

Otai rolled and turned to face him; he put the shield in front of him to cover the sight of the sword.

"Humpf, all tricks I see," Vaarshi commented.

Without hesitation, he dash forward, expecting to see the stealth sword thrust in time to repel it. But Otai was, alas, too skilled for that; he lifted his shield, keeping the sword from being seen. Unable to see the attack, Vaarshi could do nothing but fail at deflecting it once it came, in a split second, from the cover of the shield.

Impaled by the sword, on his chest, he looked at his foe in shock; behind him, hidden in the bushes, he then noticed four extinct species, animals that should be dead.

He laughed in strong coughs, and chose his last words:

"Well done, Protector. But you'll be sorry."

"So long as they live."

"Ha!"

And Vaarshi the War Monger was dead.

"What?!" The woman reacted, "you're..." At the moment, all of Otai's protégés came forth and surrounded him: A bengal tiger, a wood duck, a saker falcon, a grey wolf, an armless Asiatic black bear, a red fox, and a Red-throated Bee-eater.

Awestruck, she slowly moved her hand inside her cloak, to grab her short sword. But still, she was met with concern.

"Are you well? Or wounded?"

"Nothing relevant," she stated, standing up. She promptly pulld her hood over her head again.

"Fortunate. Scarce are those with such luck. Are you, too, a hunter?"

"Who isn't?" She replied.

They were both keeping their distance. Otai's eyes seemed full with hope and kindness, very opposite to the watchful stare of his animal followers, which probably resembled her own.

"I," Otai answered, "I have also stumbled into the acquaintance of a family of farmers, a group of miners, and a travelling bard blessed with wits and speed beyond any I have ever given witness too. All of them do not hunt."

"Well, I guess you got me there..." She had to admit.

Awkward silence then prolonged for a few minutes. Then finally Otai bid farewell.

"Very well. Good fortune in your ventures."

"Wait... hum..." She was hesitating, but this was the opportunity of a life time, she had to do it, so she inhaled her fear and requested:

"Let me join you, your group."

As expected, the prospect of a human companion seemed to touch the famed Protector, leading to a sudden but very short livened glare. He composed himself quick, though.

"Trust is a most valued currency, in these days of age. Difficult to gain, complicated to give. Do you know how a duck comes to trust a bear?"

"No."

"Because I killed the last bear that attacked, because I kill any of our group who strikes within."

"Yeah," she understood the warning, "you do well."

"We are heading south. Move ahead of us, for now."

"Ok," she agreed. Turning her back at all the preys and protector, she lead the way without unhanding the two short swords she was grasping behind the cover of her cloak.

They walked, silent, for over two days until they finally stopped to eat; he shared his provisions with her and the animals ate Vaarshi, the carnivores obviously. The rest ate grass and fruit.

During the meal, Otai was addressed:

"Otai, why do you protect them?"

"They can't protect themselves," he stated.

"Well, not from the strongest of hunters... but then again, neither could Vaarshi. Why did you kill him?"

"He was too apt. If I exercised restraint I would have died, you would have died, my protégés would have died. I killed him because he was strong."

"Weaker than you."

"Without his weapon, yes, but that was his foolishness. I grow tired, let us rest and continue tomorrow."

"Where are we headed?"

"To the closest place I have not yet seen."

"Hum...ok, and where is that?"

"Due south."

She sighed, giving up trying to get an answer from him. It was frustrating the way he talked, the certainty in his opinion and stance, the straightforwardness and simplicity in his meanings.

That night, though, she slept more soundly than ever, realizing that the protector's greatest gift was one of security, one of restful sleep.

They travelled together for a few more days in awkward silence, gradually getting comfortable around each other. It took time, but then again, time's all it takes for such things.

They started communicating lightly around the 7th day.

"Pass the water, please."

"Hm? Oh, sure, here."

They talked again when he asked her how many fish he should catch, and again when he thought they were being tracked.

On the 31st day, Otai caught a very large number of fish and held a banquet to celebrate a new found friendship.

"What's the occasion?" She asked, seeing Otai cooking a few of the fish in the usual pot.

"We are friends," he smiled, content. "Or at the very least, I consider us so. Please, tell me your name."

She looked at him and gasped, dumbfounded; all this time and she had not introduced herself. Blushing from the shadowy cover of her hood, and slightly bowing her head in shame, she told him "Kyla Banus".   

"You have not taken advantage of two openings, as well as demonstrating a peaceful personality throughout this past month. I trust you, as you do me."

She uncovered her head, smiling gladly, telling "that's great."

Silence, though, settled again. Feeling responsible, Otai broke it:

"You once asked me why I am a protector. I can freely reply now. I believe, strongly, that killing a living being for the sole reason that it is weaker, is neither right nor an achievement to be proud of.  I am vehemently against it, and that is why I fight.

"Yes, Vaarshi was the weaker man, having relinquished his weapon; that fact enabled me to vanquish him, it was not the reason for me to do so. I did it because he sought to harm creatures for none decent reasons."

"Hm...I can understand that. The question is: why do you think like that? Why do you believe in that?"

"Ah, yes, that is the question," he jested, smiling. "I am, alas, unable to elaborate an honest and wise response.

"For whatever reason, principles and a way of life grow on our personality, and we have not a choice but to abide by them; It is just who we are, who we become."

"I see," she replied, thoughtful.

"But tell me, Kyla, what is your story?"

"Hmm...oh! Uhhhh...the usual. Born, raised to hunt, hunted," she shrugged, "nothing special," she admitted, embarrassed.

They talked for the remainder of the night, eating plenty of fish. The animals had their usual meals, enjoyed peace and quiet and the good mood that surrounded them.

He told her he was travelling around the world, doing his best to gather as many protégés as possible. It was his life mission to provide security, and that impressed her greatly.

She started helping him fish, the animals also trusted her more; she became very helpful, providing new traps that were easy to set up and dismantle. She also knew how to cook greens and fruits beyond the art of soaking them in boiling water.

Otai grew very fond of Kyla, as the days passed.

On a particular day, he was teaching her to fish with her hand; it isn't as easy as piercing them with a dagger. She had been trying for four days now; Otai was at the margin, giving directions, while she fished on a low river side with water by the waist; even there, she wore her cloak and hood.

In truth, though, it was more from habit and personal embarassment than suspicion and caution. It was rare for both Otai and Kyla to be absent smiles or laughs.

"Eeek! They keep surprising me!"

"Hahaha. Just relax. Sense and grasp."

She focused on the water and the fish that swam in it; she sensed a stir, she saw and she thrust her hand to grab the fish. This time, it did not slip.

"I caught one!" she yelled, happy and letting go of it, since they weren't in need of food right now.

She initiated a run at Otai, arms open in accomplishment.

"Well done," Otai congratulated, watching as she approached. Surprisingly, she leapt for a hug. With a jumping heart, he opened his arms to accordingly hug her back. They hugged and shared a very happy moment...that seemed to trail forever.

But then, an acute pain surged on Otai's back.

He flinched for a second, realizing he wasn't imagining it. Due to the emotion of the moment, he had failed to notice an attack.

Immediately, he slightly pushed Kyla, so not to hurt her, and spun around to face the enemy, protecting her; alas he didn't even have time to examine what surrounded them because another blade sank on his side.

It was then he realized what was going on. He turned around to face his love and found a head bowed, covered by a hood which was looking at the hands that had just shoved two more daggers on Otai's torso.

Kyla refused to look at Otai who, in a grunt of pain, pulled away.

Clumsily stepping away from her, holding down the tears of betrayal, he pulled out the knife on his back. And then he fell.

He tripped and fell on his back, against the grass of the river's margin. He coughed blood, as his other wounds wet the grass around him, soaking it in red. He looked up and ahead at Kyla, trying to glimpse the face of the emotionless huntress, but finding only void in the red hood that now covered the no longer bowing head.

She was hiding her face on purpose.

"I..." He coughed.

"You're an idiot!" she yelled, mad. "I hunt! What's so hard to understand, Protector??!" She drew her two short-swords and kneeled, placing them on his neck as if scissors.

Already with his vision blurring, he felt a tear drop on his cheek, from under her hood.

Gasping for air, thugh controllably, he remembered Vaarshi's words:

"You'll be sorry." That is what the war monger said. He said it because he already knew what I would do.

He looked at her with empty, saddened, bloodshot eyes. He gritted his teeth in effort as he tried to move, but he could not. His lung was pierced, his stomach and kidney were pierced. He would be dead in a matter of seconds.

"You are the ultimate prey..." Kyla said, with a shaken though determined voice. Obviously she considered this a test on her. She was a hunter, and she was about to put emotion aside and do what she does. And she was going to pass that test and become one of the greatest hunters that ever lived.

But Otai? He was worried. He heard the faint noise of his animal companions, growling and quacking and screeching and barking and howling rage and sadness at this betrayal. She had placed the swords at his neck exactly to keep them at bay, while she thought of a plan of a action. To kill them all.

We cannot help but to abide by the principles that are the foundation of our way of life. Vaarshi knew this, thus he laughed because he knew I was emotionally weak. He knew what kind of hunter could get me as her prize. My fri...I have failed them all. My stupidity, my loneliness, my... GET UP, OTAI!

His left hand grasped his sword, which made her tighten the swords around his neck

"I'm sorry, Otai," she said, with a shaken, emotionally struggling voice. "I respect you for sticking to your ideals, and hope you understand..." She paused to give a quick breath, to aid her purpose. "...as I stick to mine." She gripped the hilts harder and clenched her teeth, letting loose more tears. She shut out her heart, and pushed herself to kill her loved one.

They...no...

At that moment, something stirred the trees; leafs tore off and the animals shivered as a figure practically flew from the tree line to their position, kicking Kyla in the face. The man had kicked her up so she wouldn't be able to cut Otai by reflex.

The man then, in one single movement, landed and bowed down as quickly as he could, telling Otai's ears:

"I am King Jileo. I vow that none of your protégés will die," he said with certainty. "Rest in peace, Protector."

What? The greatest hunter in the world? What's he doing here? What...? He's not a liar, not him... My animals...

"Trust me. I have found the beauty and necessity in nature. I will see it restored."

Otai smiled, truly happy. None could fight like the king and if he vowed to keep them safe... Otai's last words were an attempt at "thank you", but he died halfway through saying them.

The King sighed in wise aknowledgement. He looked at he protector, solemnly thinking this moment was the very reason the Age of the Hunt had to end.

Kyla stood up, put the hood back on, and looked at the attacker, massaging her swelling face; that blow had hurt harder than any kick she could remember. And his assault was too fast; by the time she had noticed his presence, she was already receiving the blow; she only had time to place her shoulder against her jaw, so it wouldn't break.

Spitting out blood, she looked as her attacker covered Otai's eyes. He got up, and stood there for a few seconds, looking at Otai.

"What hunter cries for a prey?" The man asked Kyla, clenching fists.

He finally turned around, looking at her through her hood. Through her eyes. And by gods he was intimidating. To the point the animals were still quiet, looking on in hesitation. His presence was muffling.

"Well well well..." A familiar voice then came, from the other end of the river. It was the bartender Kyla had met, joined by about 35 men behind him. They had just left cover.

"Ain't this a startling development? One month, one month she waited. She had openings but she knew they were but tests. She waited for the real deal, until she was sure she could take her prey, her prize..." He grinned. "AND SO DID WE!!" He drew upon two tomahawks; his grunts all did the same, drawing upon all kinds of different weapons, mostly swords.

With a mad grin, and steady excitment, the bartender yelled out "We'll claim the Protector's prize! As we claimed the invincible War Monger Vaarshi's! We'll claim your head and the king's head!"

"What?!" Kyla reacted, glancing at Jileo.

Jileo the Honourable, undisputed Hunter King, slowly drew upon two long swords, claymores, from his back.

Unafraid, he voiced "by royal decree, I order you to yield. Under my reign will the Age of the Hunt be no more!" he said, unflustered by the many men that had swore to kill him.

"What?" Kyla reacted again, confused. She looked back at the band who had just leapt over the small river, landing at Jileo's right side.

"Yeah right! You're going down, Jileo. Soon it'll be OUR reign!"

Kyla's head span into gear, Jileo's muscles contracted, the bartender and the rest of them charged.

They say this was a tragic tale, they say that the king slaughtered the band of hunters, they say Kyla is the same as Kayla Banus, huntress queen who defied Jileo's new world order, that the bartender survived and later led a team that collected Jileo's head during the intermission wars; they say many things, tell many tales, but this is neither of them: this is the tale of Otai Kyumbo, who lived so fervently for the well-being of others that even upon suffering the greatest of tragedies, even in death, he smiled and gave thanks to the one who assured the well-being of others. A tale Kings have demanded that schools teach to younglings ever since, for it embodies the spirit of our new age.

This was the tale of The Protector.