Avatar the Last Airbender: Jedi Outcast - Book 1 - Prodigal Butcher

Chapter 1 - False Jedi

The resounding clang of metal reverberated through the valley, its desolate hum echoing into the depths of Ben's soul. His eyes, fixated solely on his task, followed the rhythmic motion as he drew the axe back, anticipation coiling within him like a serpent ready to strike. With a couple more resounding chops, the mighty oak succumbed, its towering form splintering from the earth, collapsing with the grace of a fallen domino.

Drenched in sweat, the boy wore a thick brown coat that clung to his body, as if an extension of his very being. Protective goggles shielded his eyes, yet they too bore witness to the baptism of wood chips and the metallic tang of perspiration. Tossing the axe over his shoulder, he gripped it at the very end with his left hand, while his right traversed the fallen tree.

His gloved hand, encrusted with sap and dirt, conveyed the raw essence of his toil. The tactile sensation of the gloves, like a second skin, fused with the fabric of his clothing, merging the forest's sweat and scent into every pore. Crouching down, he traced his free hand along the wooden carcass, a grin carving indents upon his face. With a deliberate motion, he pushed his goggles off his forehead, allowing his eyes to bask in the aftermath. "Good," he whispered, a testament to his meticulous inspection.

The war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world raged on, a relentless tempest surging across the lands. Unyielding and without respite, the Fire Nation claimed dominion over all in its path. Yet, to fuel their war machines, they hungered for a steady supply of coal and wood.

And thus, people like Ben became indispensable—a cog in the vast machinery of war. As he hoisted himself upright, his eyes scanned the surroundings, absorbing the panoramic vista. In this moment, he glimpsed the valley's latent beauty, imagining the life that once flourished before the Fire Nation's devastating arrival.

Such places possessed a vitality, an unspoken pulse that resonated deep within Ben's being. It was this essence that allowed him to endure the arduous labor, to linger in these woods longer than his fellow lumberjacks and machine workers. Even as splinters of oak clouded his vision and the charred remnants of burnt wood scratched at his eyes, the allure of this place persisted, its essence entwined with his very soul.

Taking a step back, Ben's colossal boots reverberated against the earth, mirroring the impact of the felled tree. Steadfast and unwavering, he tightened his grip on the axe, preparing to unleash another mighty swing. This was the way of young men like him, toiling for their livelihood. In the town of Azon, a Fire Nation island colony, opportunities for work were scarce. Once a mere paradise for affluent Earth Nation nobles, the island's fate was irrevocably altered when the Fire Nation discovered its bountiful reservoirs of coal and wood.

The influx of Earth Nation refugees seeking a stable income for themselves and their families didn't take long after the boats arrived on the island. But Ben, well, he didn't arrive on those boats.

"Back to work... don't think about it," Ben muttered, his grip on the axe tightening, knuckles turning white as the gloves left indents along the handle. The blade struck the wood with a resounding chop, splitting it in half. He didn't want to dwell on it, preferring to lose himself in his labor rather than lose himself in the haunting memories of the past.

On the island, coal mining and wood chopping were the only two viable paths to financial success. There were, of course, healers, the occasional merchant, and a bartender, but for people like Ben, manual labor was the only real option.

Working in the coal mines offered more money and a semblance of stability, but it wasn't without its dangers. Cave-ins were frequent, and the fire nation recruiters conveniently left out certain hazards. The men and women who toiled there had an increased risk of falling ill, with some even losing their hair due to the chemicals or lack of oxygen within the mines. Ben had heard tales of fire nation soldiers accidentally triggering gas vents with their bending abilities, transforming the entire cave system into a fiery pit.