The first rays of dawn cut across the quiet village, catching on the sharp planes of Soe Gyi's face as he emerged from the workshop. At twenty-five, he was a man who seemed carved from both strength and purpose—six feet two inches of disciplined muscle, honed by years of labor and training. His dark eyes scanned the horizon with an intensity that suggested both awareness and resolve, while his dark hair fell just enough to brush the collar of his warrior suit, a silent reminder that he was always ready for what might come.
By day, he shaped wood with masterful precision, each strike of hammer and chisel echoing the patience and focus of a seasoned craftsman. By necessity, he was also a warrior, his broad shoulders and fit frame moving with the grace and power of someone trained for survival and protection. There was a quiet magnetism to him, a presence that commanded respect without words, a balance of strength, skill, and calm determination. Today, like every day, Soe Gyi would face the world not only with hands that could build but with a spirit prepared to defend.
The sun had barely risen when Soe Gyi ventured into the dense forest, his hands gripping the worn handle of his axe. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the morning birds sang cautiously, as if warning of dangers hidden among the shadows. Soe Gyi moved with the quiet confidence of a man accustomed to the wilderness, his sharp eyes scanning for the perfect timber. Yet even in this familiar terrain, a sense of unease prickled at him—an instinct that whispered of something far deadlier than fallen branches.
It came suddenly. From the underbrush emerged the Tiger King, a beast of massive size and terrifying ferocity. Its golden eyes burned with a ruthless intelligence, and every movement rippled with raw power. Soe Gyi froze for only a heartbeat before instinct and training took over. The forest became their arena, the trees trembling under the force of their clash. The Tiger King lunged, claws tearing the air, teeth flashing in deadly arcs. Soe Gyi dodged, parried, and struck back, every swing of his axe a dance of precision and survival.
The battle raged like a storm, a brutal contest of strength, speed, and willpower. Blood splattered across bark and leaf, the sounds of growls and grunts echoing through the forest. Soe Gyi's muscles burned, yet he pressed on, guided by determination and the knowledge that only one would leave the forest alive.
Finally, with a surge of power and focus, Soe Gyi drove his blade deep and true, severing the Tiger King's head from its massive body. Silence fell over the forest, broken only by the ragged sound of his breathing. , bloodied but unbowed, a man who had faced the wild's most ruthless predator—and survived.
Soe Gyi emerged from the forest like a figure carved from both triumph and terror. His body was streaked with blood, dark stains matted into the fabric of his warrior suit, his muscles tense with fatigue and the lingering adrenaline of battle. In his left hand, he carried the severed head of the Tiger King, its golden eyes now dull and lifeless, a grim trophy of his victory. With his right hand, he steadied the massive, headless body of the beast on his broad shoulders, the weight a testament to the ferocity of the creature he had defeated. Each step forward was a deliberate act of endurance, the uneven forest path beneath him turning into the road that led back to the village.
As he approached the village, people began to emerge from their homes, eyes wide with shock. Mothers clutched their children, and elders whispered under their breath.
"Is that… is that Soe Gyi?" one woman murmured, her voice trembling.
"He's… he's carrying the tiger! By the gods, he's mad!" an older man exclaimed.
"Look at all that blood!" a young boy gasped, stepping back.
Soe Gyi ignored the murmurs, his focus unbroken. Every eye followed his progress as he walked steadily along the road, the forest's shadows clinging to him like a reluctant witness. The villagers' horror mingled with awe, their whispered questions filling the air:
He bore the weight of the tiger and the burden of his triumph with quiet dignity, a living testament to courage and skill. By the time he reached the village center, silence fell, replaced by a grudging respect.
Soe Gyi's steps slowed as he approached the only establishment in the village where trade could be conducted—a small, sturdy building that served as a shop, tavern, and general market all in one. The scent of baked bread and dried herbs drifted through the wooden doorway, mingling with the iron tang of his own blood and the forest's musk. The villagers had cleared a path for him, their whispers fading into silence as they watched the warrior carry the massive, headless body of the Tiger King on his back, its severed head swinging loosely in his left hand.
Pushing open the creaking door, Soe Gyi stepped inside. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a wary expression, froze at the sight.
"By the gods… is that…?" the shopkeeper stammered.
"It is," Soe Gyi said, his voice low but steady. "The Tiger King. Dead."
The man's eyes widened, and he instinctively stepped closer to the counter, as if distance could protect him from the enormity of the prize.
"You… you bring that here… for trade?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Yes," Soe Gyi replied, placing the tiger's body carefully against the counter and setting the head down with both hands. "Two golds. That is its worth."
The shopkeeper's brows shot up. "Two golds?! That's… that's twenty thousand silver, twenty million copper! Are you mad, or do you know what you hold?"
Soe Gyi shrugged slightly, the calm confidence in his posture unshaken. "The forest does not give gifts. I fought, I survived. The price is fair."
The shopkeeper ran his fingers over the tiger's thick fur, inspecting the teeth and claws. "It's… incredible. I've never seen one this size. You truly fought the Tiger King alone?"
"I did," Soe Gyi said simply. "Now I need the gold. Coins. I will take rice and bowls with the rest."
The man nodded quickly, counting out the gleaming gold coins with reverent hands. "Two golds… here. And for the food you requested?" He handed over enough copper to purchase several sets of rice and bowls. "Twenty copper each. That will feed you for days, warrior."
Soe Gyi took the coins, weighing them in his palm before sliding them into the pouch at his belt. "Good," he said. "Fair trade."
The shopkeeper shook his head in disbelief. "I'll tell the village head. No one will believe this. Soe Gyi… you are not merely a carpenter, nor merely a warrior. You are something more"
Soe Gyi nodded once, his expression calm. "Perhaps. But I live day by day, coin by coin, meal by meal. The forest is always ready to remind a man of his place."
With that, he hoisted the empty tiger pelt onto his shoulder, gold in his pouch, and stepped back into the village, the murmurs of the villagers following him like a shadow.