"You are no longer our brother. You shall not call yourself one of the kin anymore."
I pronounced to the giant man kneeling in front of me and the other elders.
The man raised his face and glared at me upon the declaration.
He might be twice as big as me, and his hair which looked like a lion's mane made him seem fiercer than my clean and shaven face.
But enough fools had died in my hands already that people knew not to underestimate my timid appearance.
"You are now banished from the Lands of Never-Ending Thunder. You shall not ever return to Guntur."
I told the man.
Upon those saying, the elders and I rose from our seats and rounded on him.
We each reached for the axe hanging on our back and pointed it to the exile.
Each of the elder had led at least five expeditions to the Death Islands. My last expedition was my seventh.
And each of us at least had participated in twenty expeditions to those killing grounds.
This giant man knew not to challenge us. Unless he wanted his blood splattered under the dome of the Judging Hall.
Twelve exiles had died upon my axe for trying just that. And I had witnessed another thirty killed by other elders.
I knew this man. I had trained him myself.
He was so full of pride.
But he was not exactly foolish. He took risk, but he also knew how to recognize a dead end.
After all the elders had surrounded him, the man turned around and went to the gates, where his own axe and bundles of belonging were laid.
We escorted him out of the Judging Hall and onto the slopes of Indarin.
The crowd streaming within the streets of Indarin parted upon our procession.
Each of the Guntur folk knew what we were doing. And for that reason they threw despised gazes toward the giant man we were escorting.
Some cursed at the man, some threw garbage at him, some even spat at his feet.
The Kin of Indra were prideful naval warriors.
We fared through the stormy seas and conquered all challenges we sailed across. All under the protection of the Sky.
Though prideful we were, the Guntur warriors knew to rely on one another.
One man could not sail a whole Dragon Vessel all by himself after all.
Each of a ship's crew needed to fulfill their role for a safe passage across the ever-unknown sea.
We understood that only by being united that we could conquer everything.
That was why our invasion failed 400 years ago.
Only seven of the fifteen septs of Guntur sailed for war.
The reason for the invasion was actually foolish.
A bitter Near-Kin who wished to win the sept chiefs' votes to become the grand chief by rallying them into a quest for glory.
True Guntur warriors knew that the Ptir Archipelago was our only home. We did not need to conquer the Dunia continent.
That was why more than half of the septs did not join the invasion.
Even so, had all the might of Guntur was deployed back then, we could probably gain more victories rather than having our fleets destroyed before reaching the shores.
It would never be rid of the Guntur folk's mind that unity was the greatest form of strength.
People who did not think as such could not be called our brother or sister.
Like this giant man we were banishing.
He had been punished multiple times for disobeying orders and endangering the lives of his fellow brothers and sisters.
No matter what kind of disciplinary actions we treated him, the man simply could not think of anyone but himself.
A fledgling warrior was badly wounded and ended up in a critical state because this man abandoned the young fellow in battle.
It was then that the decision was made.
The elders and I escorted the exile to the harbor, where a small sailing boat was waiting.
Since the exile could not care for anyone but himself, then he deserved to be ordered to sail away on his own to one of the roughest sea existed in the world.
Many died on their journey and we would find their wreckage and corpse drifted back ashore.
But those that survived the sea would only have two destinations to go to.
They could either go to the Death Islands.
An archipelago with never-ending storm and brimming with monsters.
Great treasures could be found there. Gold, jewels, weapons, rare resources.
Guntur warriors had been dedicating ourselves to conquer the Death Islands for as long as we existed.
Nobody had ever reached the deepest part of the archipelago, located in the northernmost point of the world.
Some said our Great Father, Indra, dwelled there.
All the more reason why the Guntur folks wanted to conquer the Death Islands.
For the exiles, it was the perfect place for them to prove that they needed no one but themselves.
I had found countless corpses of exiles rotting in the Death Islands during my expeditions there.
The other destination they could choose was worse than death.
They could go south and sail to Dunia.
The exile would offer their axe and worked as mercenary. Living new life not that of the kin.
I would rather die than living from the land void of my brothers and sisters. Void of the blessing of the Sky.
What was life for other than to pledge it for Indra?
It was every Guntur warrior's dream to die in the Death Islands. To die while searching for the Great Father.
That was why the exiles who went to the Death Islands suffered more honorable fate than those who went south.
Death Islands was a certain death for the exiles. But anything the south had to offer was just worse than death itself.
The elders and I watched the giant man preparing to sail away.
As his former instructor, I imparted him my last words to him.
"You could've been a great warrior, Jyrgil. I could see you being our sept chief someday. If only you would stop being so foolish and stubborn."
The giant man sniffed at me before he unmoored his vessel and pushed his boat away from the dock.
"I am not foolish. You are wrong. All of you are wrong!"
He said as he sailed away into the open sea.
Where would he go now?
Where would he try to prove us wrong?
The man shifted the rudder of his boat and made his way down south.
So he decided to abandon his heritage. His principle. The last shred of his identity as one of the kin.
Well… what did I care, anyway?
I might had trained him ever since he was just a boy.
But he had made his decision.
He was no longer a brother of ours.
He was simply an exile.
A stranger.
A foolish stranger.