Chaper 1: The Wanderer

Wanderer. Few go by this title and yet is so favored by the common people. They hear Wanderer and see a hero prepared to tear off their pale and darkened skin and make the world a brighter place. But a Wanderer is no hero, he only saves those who catch his attention and when the corrupted strike an innocent, physically or mentally. Though this day was unlike a few of the others, for there was a strong downpour of rain on all of the East Coast. Most people tried to stay warm in their metal framed homes. But one man not cowering from the strong amount of water was wearing a black trench coat. It was drenched in water as well as his pants, and his combat-like boots splashed through the numerous puddles. Metal clanked as he continued to walk through the Downtown area of Jhiag City, with many of the poor having rat houses. This metal was that of a sword strapped to the man's back. As this man continued walking and making noise with his boots and his metal beats, he listened for everything around him. His cold black hair that almost went past his eyes was a simple haircut. Not much to notice or care for in any case. Yet his hair was a sign for the weak, but the reasons were just rumors and speculation of his ability and rumors of another planet filled with heroes like him. But he wasn't a hero. Or at least he couldn't consider himself to be one. All he was, was a slave to justice and protection. A pawn in their scheme to make the world a better place. And he had no choice in the matter. He always wished he could stand and watch, to just let things happen... but he couldn't. For some reason, he was the odd man out of his family line. They waited for opportunity, while the man could just thrust a knife in its neck and take it himself before the corrupted got their hands on it. Lightning began to flash, and soon after thunder followed. It was closing in, and giving him notice to not focus on what he was, but what he had to do. He stopped walking. Flash. Thunder. Flash. Thunder.Scream, Flash. That scream was his cue. He could hear it clearly and he was close by, taking out his sword and charging toward that direction. It was some jerk pointing his hand at the family. It was a magic user. The man stopped running to keep himself from being heard and then went silent like the night. Letting the thunder hide his movement. "Do you want your wife to die asshole!? Hand over everything!" "But we have nothing, the local gang took all of our foo-" "Then give me everything else, including the clothes on your backs! Now!" One of the kids decided to back up and refuse, shaking her head. She had pink hair and was wearing a blue dress. Tears were coming from her eyes and the robber pointed his hand at her. "The first to die!" That's when the flash came.