"I won't be around forever, you know," Karl said, huddled by the fireplace amidst the harsh winter.
Outside of the window, all that could be seen was the frost carried by the howling winds, encasing the glass in ice. Years had passed since he was taken in by Karl, finding himself in a body built to resemble that of a young adult.
Bruno poured a cup of tea for the both of them, looking at the red-nosed elder, "What're you talking about, Old Man?"
"You've grown and matured in these years, Bruno. But, there is more to life than this dusty house," Karl said, staring at the fire. "There's a vast world out there, full of so many experiences."
"There's nothing out there for me," Bruno said, casting the idea aside as he turned his head.
"Don't be a fool. Don't be a hermit like me and live your life in the shade," Karl insisted, sighing as he took a sip from the tea before wincing. "--It's just the request of an old soul, I suppose. After all, you're free to do whatever you wish. That's what it means to be human."
"Free to do what I wish?" Bruno quietly repeated.
["That winter, it was a cold one."]
Tucked into bed, the old man hoarsely coughed while Bruno sat on the stool beside, tending to the sickly person.
"You haven't slept in days, Bruno…I can take care of myself, you know?" Karl said before breaking into a coughing fit.
The wooden man worked a wry smile of his own, "I have no need for sleep, as you know already."
"You don't have to stick around. There's a lot else you could be doing," Karl protested, settling himself back into the mattress with a dry sigh.
"This again?--" Bruno dismissed, applying a moist cloth to the old man's forehead.
Karl grunted, coughing again, "I mean it, lad. I'm not going to be around forever. What will you do when I'm gone? Have you put any thought into it?"
The direct confrontation left the wooden man speechless as his mind was left jumbled, looking down at the floorboards as he tried to find some kind of answer.
"I…" Bruno lingered.
"You don't need an answer now, lad," Karl told him, gently grasping his wrist. "Most men spend their lives searching for meaning. But, so long as you're searching, you're living. The worst thing you can do is remain stagnant, closed off…That's no different from death."
"Doing that…would it make me human?" Bruno asked.
"You are human," Karl assured him with a weak smile. "All you need to do is live like one."
The words nestled into the soul of the wooden man, who sat there in teary-eyed silence. He kept a hold of the old man's hand, comforting the sickly elder.
["That water, it was a cold one."]
As spring flowers sprouted, the wooden man stood over the freshly-placed soil. He stared at the gravestone, wiping it down as he knelt beside it.
"What am I supposed to do, old man?" Bruno asked with a trembling voice, hardly holding his grief back.
Sitting with his back against the gravestone, the wooden man sat there for hours, so long that the sunny day turned into a rainy overcast.
["I decided to take his advice. Unlike normal people, my lifespan isn't limited. As long as I keep moving forward, my life has meaning—I'll find who I am."]
—
In the remnants of the blaze, the wooden man shielded himself with his arms. The suit around his torso fell to ash, swept in the smoke around his body.
Phoenix huffed, lifting his blade, "You managed to take that one? What kind of wood are you made of, anyway?"
The inorganic figure straightened himself out, wiping the embers from his bare torso, "The man who gifted me this body was a kind genius. He made sure I'd be able to withstand whatever I faced."
"Give him my props then! You're pretty damn tough," Phoenix complimented with a chipper smile.
"We're in the middle of a fight, you know," Bruno reminded him.
The adventurer laughed, "C'mon, man—if you give up now, you'll probably just serve some time. I've got the advantage here."
"Is that what you think?" Bruno sharply responded, conjuring the threads between his fingers. "If I gave up, I might as well die. I'll always walk forward."
"You're really committed to being a no-good bandit, aren't you? If you used half that resolve to do some good, you could accomplish a lot," Phoenix dismissed with a sigh, swiping his sword in the air as embers trickled.
Bruno squinted at him, "This is merely one stop in my life. I quite enjoy the freedom of it, though. The others treat me like a friend, like a real person. Real friends don't come often, so stick with them when you can. That's only human, isn't it?"
"Well, I can't exactly blame ya', but I guess that just means I'm going to have to take you down," Phoenix threatened earnestly.
The challenge was met by the wooden man, who silently wrapped his threads around his own body like straps. Like gears turning within his body, Bruno steadied his footing before springing across the cobblestone tiles.
It was quick enough that Phoenix was forced to pivot, slipping back to avoid the incoming assault. A sharp kick passed right by as the woodman's hands pressed against the ground, propelling all of his strength into his leading leg.
'That was close–he isn't just a ranged fighter?' Phoenix thought.
With utmost finesse, the oak bandit slammed his foot down from his missed strike, bringing it down with thundering force. The stone tile cracked beneath the stomp, sending a tremor brief, yet potent enough to throw the adventurer's footing off.
"Ghh?!—" Phoenix gasped, moving his head to the side as the wooden fist passed.
While he evaded the first strike, another came, hitting him dead center in his torso. The solid fist of the bandit rang against his armor, yet the force transmitted through his body.
"Pyueh—!" He spat out, gasping for air.
His feet slid across the tiles, struggling to suck in a breath as his lungs were left in shock. A dent was left in the breastplate with the imprint of the abnormal bandit's fist.
["Threads of Hercules": while giving up the ability to use his slicing strings outside of his body, Bruno intertwined them within his unique form. Using each thread, the magical circuits act like a muscular structure, granting him enhanced physical power.]