Chapter forty six
He was just a blind, old rag on the streets of Atlantis. Every penny he begged off only landed onto the counter of a bartender as always.
Sometimes, people stopped to wonder how a man without sight could possibly stagger his way to a tavern every night to drown in a sea of scotch, just to return to the streets to beg once again. He had literally never been sighted stuffing any sort of food that helped him survive. How he did it…only the gods knew.
Now, he was slumped in the mud again, anything but sober and going over the usual tradition of begging. He'd laugh occasionally in his drunken state, send a praise or two to God, then ask for bronze coins from passersby. His tattered grey hair swept over his shoulders, complemented by worn out sack clothes that's been worn for ages.
A few bronze coins dropped into his small dish as people strode by, while most others left an insult at the very least.
All he'd do in the end is laugh merrily and send a blessing to all.
But suddenly, the sounds his ear picked up from around didn't sound all too normal anymore. Having had his eyes gouched out, all his ears could help him register was the trampling of feet in what seemed like people trying to run away. Followed by screams and cries.
And even hooves of horses stamping around.
What was happening?
Bodies bumped against him as more people swifted past. Then, he heard the sound of blade against flesh…and the smell of blood everywhere.
That was when he understood the Kingdom was being attacked again.
It was the Philippine soldiers…bound in armour and arms as they rode on mighty horses and took lives as they did.
More blood spilled and there was suddenly a voice shouting. "Kill every single one of them!"
The villagers hadn't had much luck running away from the horses though, not to mention he who had no eyes.
But the thought of the attack maddened him. He suddenly wasn't acting hysterical and drunken anymore.
Slowly, he came upon his bare feet and walked forward. As blind as he was, it was normal to expect his vulnerability. However, as more soldiers on horses rummages about slicing those around him, he was efficient in taking a few steps to specific directions now and then to avoid their blades.
It went on for some time long enough to attract the attention of the chief soldier.
Upon a black horse, he creased his brows studying the old man stalk closer. Surely the man had no eyes. Then how…
Even while in his present state of confusion, what he saw next went a long way to play with his reasoning.
The _blind_ man reached for one of the soldiers and pulled him close with that strength no old man should have. Afterwards, he tapped a light finger on the victim's forehead. The effect was brutal.
Abnormally, circular waves spread out from the ground he stood on outwards with a frequency so high the soldier in his clutch shattered to an eyesore of meat and blood.
The sight brought a halt to every motion and sound around him. For a while, nothing happened. Until the chief soldier screamed another order. "Kill the old man!"
The slicing of people stopped and all soldiers found a new target on the blind, old, helpless looking man. Seems he was more than a beggar afterall. In every sense of it.
With one violent pull, he tore off his sack clothing, revealing a black embroidered waistcoat above a matching warrior dress, luxurious and neat. But one thing was still missing; shoes.
His opponents reached him…and simultaneously, he slid a foot along the ground slowly, something that was meant to help him sense the tiniest vibrations in the absence of his eyes. Then, he struck.
Armed or not, the entire mini army was not able to lay as much as a scratch upon him. His fists were efficient and strong. Too strong for any human being.
But then, he wasn't human, was he?
A single jab from his side released the familiar rumble of the Earth beneath his feet, sending waves out that affected only whom he wanted.
At that, the soldiers felt themselves being repelled even before reaching him. While the ones who reached him got battered unsightly into flesh and blood.
Shocked, the chief soldier watched his men deplete bit by bit. By a _blind_ man! Where was that even heard?
The man could sense movement in any direction around him and was swift enough to counter every single one of them before he was touched. It was a sign of expertise…like something he'd been doing all his life.
He continued to gawk at the various versions in which his soldiers were killed that he did not realize he was not doing anything to help.
Nor did he realize his soldiers had all gone to meet with the Creator early enough to run away. But now that only he was left _and the blind old man was marching to him_ he kicked his horse and drew the reins, starting an escape in the opposite direction.
But, he forgot life was never a bed of roses…
The old man stamped one foot hard on the ground. A crack formed, extending forward as the land vibrated. When it caught up with the runaway soldier, it widened into a wide gully, separating this land from the rest of the world only in that direction.
Unwillingly, the soldier pulled the reins of his horse and set it to an abrupt halt, very narrowly surviving the deadly fall he could have been in.
Ever so slowly, fearfully, he faced the old man, his heart threatening to pop out of his chest.
"How are you seeing me," he dared to ask, determined to learn the answer even if he dies.
The old man ignored the question, hauling him down from his filly with a grip on his collar.
However, instead of killing him, he manoeuvered both his hands into a rope and tightened a knot around them.
"Where," the chief soldier began to stammer. "Where are you taking me?"
For the first time, the blind man answered him. "I have no business with you. I'm a bounty hunter, paid to track you down."
"Then just how are you seeing without eyes?"
The older man grinned at the question, certainly something he'd been asked a lot. Pulling him up to meet his face, he snarled. "Call me Vizal, djinn of waves. My feet sense vibrations." The dying wish of a common man.