When Hanzo came to for the second time in one day, he found himself strung up like a hammock. His arms and legs were strung tight to a wooden beam carried by two men on both ends.

The sun was gone leaving the woods in total darkness until the men marched through with large torches blazing.

There were dozens of them. They marched barefoot in long, mossy rags mumbling and chanting nonsense in a foreign language. They wore faceless masks sprouting with rooster feathers and carried simple javelins.

There was really nothing spectacular about these folks besides the fact that they strung up Hanzo to a post after finding him half dead in the middle of nowhere.

His bewilderment skyrocketed as he craned his neck around at awkward angles to make sense of what was going on.

He was kidnapped for sure. But what they intended to do with him, he had no idea and was not in the mood to find out.

He started jerking his weight around and spitting rage through clenched teeth. The mob marched on, oblivious.

The ropes were thick and bristly, cutting off the circulation in his limbs. He swayed side to side, gnawed the ropes, screamed bloody murder but nothing could save him from his fate.

“Let me off!!” He shouted at the raggedy tribals, knowing they would ignore him.

In the following moments the indigenous emerged upon an open area surrounded by hundreds more of their own.

Voices rose in unanimous greeting.

Torches flickered at the mercy of howling winds and the masked goons howled with it.

“Maca saveré boubo!”

A man in darker rags stood, arms risen toward the starlit sky.

In the opening sat a great pot of boiling stew between two stocky branches.

A squashed fire burned fiercely underneath the pot.

Hanzo was wrought with disbelief.

I know for a fact these idiots are not thinking of hanging me over that thing.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. The walking mops carried him there and lifted the beam to fit on the two branches while Hanzo hang over a flood of scorching steam.

The man in darker garbs and a more detailed mask approached the young warrior.

“You are the chosen one on this sacred night of eating. You will rid us of our blight and return to us our true selves. Behold!”

Hanzo suddenly ripped one arm free of the ropes and started to free the other.

The man lurched in surprise.

“Oh no!!!” He wailed, “He’s escaping!!! Someone!!!”

Others rushed forward with spears aimed at the escapee who rocked side to side until the wooden frame toppled over.

He hit the ground hard. The crowd gasped in horror as more goons flew over to grab the boy. “Don’t let him escape!!!!”

His hands were all free but his ankles were still bound to the stupid pole.

As spears and lassos came his direction, he twisted and turned about, smacking the obstructions away.

“Where’s my doggone sword?!!” He thought aloud.

“Please, oh chosen one!!!” Came a feminine cry.

Were these moron’s begging him to be cooked to alive and eaten?

“Where’s my goddamn sword!!??” He roared, pulling his leg loose.

One of the cannibals reached forth and grabbed his arms. Hanzo blasted him with a powerful kick, shattering the porcelain mask.

The sheer impact of that hard boot sent him backflipping right into a tree.

Hanzo snatched a spear away from his face and broke it off, using the blade to sever the last knot of ropes that held his leg to the beam.

He was free at last.

The cannibals were horrified either because they lost their meal or because they knew the kid was about to beat the snot out every one of them. He could care less.

A pair of arms wrapped around his neck. He elbowed the assailant off of him, then stabbed him in the face with a piece of the broken spear while a dozen more goons closed in from each side with ropes ready to tangle him up.

He picked up another javelin and smacked them all across the face in one powerful swing. Their masks exploded on impact.

“It’s no use!! All attack!!” The leader cried, while doing absolutely nothing himself.

By command, the entire horde of cannibals charged in with more thick ropes and cheap spears flailing at the target. Burning with fury, he flung the staff like a whip, belting the rag sodden cannibals until heaps of them lie dead or unconscious under his hefty boots.

He smashed skulls in, broke collarbones and ribs and soon the staff shattered so he resorted to pounding with his gloved fists.

A lasso suddenly caught around his neck and jerked him to the ground, choking him mercilessly as it dragged him back toward the big pot.

“Forgive me, oh Chosen One!!” The leader sobbed, reeling the rope in.

Hacking and spitting, Hanzo scrambled to his feet and dashed toward the man.

The fool staggered in fear, getting a good look into the young man’s cold green eyes.

Hanzo lifted the man over his head, ran him straight into a tree and broke his spine.

“Aaaaghh!!!” The leader wailed in agony. Hanzo smacked him in the face.

“Shut the freak up.”

He whirled around to face the looming cannibals who stood aghast, unsure of how to handle this prey turned predator.

Suddenly, bolts of water shot out of darkness and blew out all the torches one by one. A final bolt obliterated the blaze below the pot of stew and all went pitch black.

What the..?Hanzo blinked.

A series of thuds, grunts and screams came from the band of rag dolls.Bodies were thrown, slammed and pummeled until the whole area was wiped clean.

Then came total silence.

Hanzo gulped but didn’t say a word, hoping that this invisible being didn’t blast him like the rest.

He crept through the dark, stumbling over torsos, arms and legs.

Just ahead, he saw a flash of green.

My sword!!

He moved faster, dancing over casualties and snapping spears in half as he stepped on them.

The black blade lie against a tree, holding reflections of the starry sky.

He grasped the sword and glanced over his shoulder surreptitiously.

He had to look twice, for he noticed two glowing eyes set on him.

It was Skeeter.

The water figure darted forward in an instant and smacked the daylights out of him. The boy somersaulted through the woods at wicked speeds, screaming in pain and unbridled fury.

His tumbling train ride came to an abrupt halt as he crashed onto the beachside, blowing a huge gash in the sand on impact.

He lie broken and bruised, sure that he would not be getting up again. This had to be the most idiotic idea of training Hanzo had ever endured.

Once his brain finally stopped rolling, he demanded his aching limbs to move but they refused to comply.

Come on!!! His thoughts screamed.

Rage suddenly sparked in his chest and a surge of violent energy shook his frame just as Skeeter appeared in the sky above with a giant water hammer raised over his head.

In a sudden burst of motion, Hanzo jumped to his feet and swung his sword like a maniac. A glowing beam of emerald energy swept off the black blade and tore the water spirit in half before he could land his blow.

“DIE, YOU FILTHY ANIMAL!!!” Hanzo screamed, hurling dozens of power slashes like he’d gone berserk. Shrieks of the energy filled the air as a dance of emerald crescents ripped through the trees, causing catastrophic damage.

Hanzo was already beyond his limit though. His stamina dropped like a guillotine and he soon folded backward and collapsed from exhaustion.

However, any injuries he previously sustained were gradually erased.

He awoke the following morning staring into a blue sky. A white sun levitated over the sea spilling light over the vast surface.

Hanzo blinked the brightness out of his eyes but didn’t move an inch.

His mouth was full and he didn’t know why at first.

He looked down and saw the same old man from yesterday crouched beside him with a wooden bowl and a spoon feeding him like an infant.

It took Hanzo a moment to register the anomaly but when he did, he trembled with rage and shot the brown sludge out of his mouth.

He rolled to the side, coughing, gagging and snorting the stuff out of his nostrils.

“What the hell is your problem??!!”

He hacked.

“You broke your record!!” The old man cried with glee. “You ate ten spoons, pal!!”

Hanzo fixed an evil glare on him, balling a fistful of sand.

The old man toppled over as the sand spattered across his eyes.

“Gahh!!” He cried, “I’ve gone blind!!! Help me!!! Somebody call the ambulance!!! I’m dying!!”

Hanzo looked on in astonishment as the old man thrashed around dramatically. This guy was a complete circus.

Was this moron really a master?

“Where is Odyssey?!”

Hanzo shouted, scanning his surroundings. He noticed all of the damage in front of him. Splintered trees lie everywhere as if a bulldozer had been released.

I did all of this?

He thought to himself.

“Well, buddy old pal...” the old man sat up and rubbed the dirt out of his eyes. “I gotta say, you did pretty well agains those cannibal natives!”

“Cannibal...” Hanzo cut his eyes at him. “Wait, what?!”

“Yep!!” The old man proudly admitted, “I thought you mighta’ died against them suckers but ya persevered. And I’m proud of you for that!”

“So you just sat around and watched me get abducted by a bunch of freaks in masks...” Hanzo growled, speaking more to himself than to the idiot in front of him.

“Yep!!” Came the reply, “The whole scheme was well orchestrated!”

The grandpa bent over and and picked up the bowl of porridge that had fallen upside down. He scooped up another serving out of the tall, steaming pot beside his chair and dumped it in the bowl, then bombed it with nutmeg, plucked the spoon inside of it and took a mouthful.

“Mmm!!” He exclaimed, “Delicious! I think it’s time to break your new record of ten spoons!”

Hanzo shuddered with disgust and fury and picked up his sword and swung it on the old man’s scrawny throat.

“Listen, punk...” he seethed. His eyes had turned green again.

The fool took another mouthful and jabbed his spoon at the young man.

“If ya swing that sword old pal, you might as well say hello to the afterlife!” He snickered.

“Was that a threat?” Hanzo grinned viciously.

“Nope! That was a warning! Your spirit pressure is nearly depleted so if you swing that big thing again, you’ll probably die!”

Hanzo hated how the old man explained things like he were educating a room full of children.

“Whatever.” he growled, “Where the heck is Odyssey?”

“Odyss—? Oh! That big fella’...” the old man shrugged, “Haven’t seen him since last week!”

“Last week??” Hanzo echoed.

“Would you like me to deliver a message?” The man offered helpfully.

“Stop talking.” Hanzo retorted, easing the black blade away from the fool’s neck.

“Alrighty! I’ll let him know that you said to stop talking!”

This guy just got more and more annoying by the minute.

“I’m leaving.” Hanzo grumbled as he started to walk off.

“Well, hold on now pal...” the old man set his bowl in the sand and stood up, dusting his palms. Hanzo noticed a collection of luxurious rings on his shoddy fingers and wondered what sort of significance they had.

They were probably just for show.

“You almost forgot! Today is the day that you officially begin your training in the water element! Are you ready old pal?”

“Screw off.” Hanzo seethed, “You call this crap training??”

In a wave of fluid motion, the old man beckoned water from the ocean and let it swirl around his frame like a snake. Then he opened his hand and it all converged into a large sphere, then suddenly turned into a ball of ice.

He tossed it over to the young man and smiled graciously.

Hanzo caught the cold sphere in one hand and studied it with a frown.

While the feat was quite impressive, especially seeing the sphere was totally flawless, Hanzo knew that masters were capable of much greater feats than this.

He stared at the old man who simply went on grinning with pride.

“Well, son?” He chuckled, “Shall we get started?”