Remnant's hunter

Chapter 1

It was the cry of some distant bird that woke him, but his eyes did not open to joyful song or a bright summer's day but rather a white-cream tent and agony searing through his body. He folded up on instinct alone, cupping his head with one hand as he groaned out loud.

"The hell? Didn't I die?" Toji asked confused. He look at his body. It was patched up with had bandages on his torso. His eyes widened for his body to be "fixed".

"I've definitely died. No question about that." Nothing about his surroundings answered that. He was on a low bed that was somewhat ramshackle and balanced on wooden slats. His quilt was both a linen sheet and also a sheep's fur blanket of some kind thrown over the top. The tent was bare, incredibly so. There was a central pole helping to support it but apart from that there wasn't so much as a wardrobe or a stool. "Where am I?" He asked himself.

He began to get up and walk to get out of this tent. The tent flap wasn't secured and flapped open when he pushed through. Early morning sunlight washed down over his thin shirt and equally thin trousers, his hair hung loose and his chin felt stubbly and unshaven, but he could shave it later. He felt his little scar on his lip and started to believe that he was somehow alive.

Even so, he staggered out and onto a worn dirt path that ran between a series of cone-shaped tents and marquees. They came in various colours and were scattered around haphazardly, with little regard for theme, sense or order. It might have reminded him of a carnival were it not for the lack of any song, dance or fun. Someone walking nearby saw him, cursed, and rushed away.

"Well, it seem like I'm alive again. But this place doesn't seem like heaven either."

A commotion to the left drew his attention, the sound of voices but also wood cracking against wood. He gravitated towards it, recognising it as some kind of sparring as he drew near. There was a gap between two tents and he pushed through, coming out into a rough circle made of logs. Inside, a man was fighting against a young girl not ten or eleven years old. They both used wooden swords, but that concession was all the girl received. The man twisted and disarmed her, then backhanded her across the face.

"Keep hold of your weapon or die!"

"Fuck you!" the girl responded.

"Big talk from someone with a split lip. The day you can back up your threats is the day I take them seriously." The man kicked her sword up towards her, and to the girl's credit she caught it. "Take a break. We'll continue later."

"Why not now?" the girl demanded. "I can still fight!"

"Because, if you used those senses I've been trying to drill into you, you'd realise we have an uninvited guest."

They both turn to see the Sorcerer Killer staring at the two with the little interest on how this is going, but he couldn't complain anyway.

His clan made him like a warrior as well.

He stepped towards the ring, seeing no sign to trying to hide now. Many of those around and in front of their tents had also noticed him, and some paused with hands on their weapons to watch him. They relaxed when it was clear he was unarmed.

Up close, the man was at least forty or so with grey hair and grizzled skin. He wore a loose chainmail shirt and a leather harness, from which several knives hung. The girl, on the other hand, was tan and short with cropped black hair and icy blue eyes.

Toji turns his attention to the old man.

"Yo." Toji greeted with a smirk. "Seem like I've stumble into something very important. I was wondering if you know where in the hell am I?"

"Aye, I know," he said. "Not sure you do, though."

"That's the point of asking, isn't it?"

"Not sure if you should trying to be a tough guy for the people that save you."