An old monk walked down an empty road. The landscape was beautiful. Trees, birds, and rivers all made for a stunning world. Unfortunately, the monk could not stay there for long. He was a wanderer, searching for some way to remove the beast that was corrupting his soul.
ENTER FLASHBACK MODE
The monk was much younger when it had happened. A 20-year old man, training himself in the ways of martial arts and faith. He had absolute belief in his god, and was sure that he could defeat any who would oppose his will. But despite this, he never fought unprovoked. Sparring was a different story. The monks had to train themselves somehow, after all. He could scarcely imagine using his skills to actually hurt someone, however.
One night, a young boy was brought to his temple. He had been possessed, but the demon inside of him only rarely manifested. This was supposed to be the monk's final test until he was accepted into their ranks. Through a combination of faith and magic, he pulled the demon from the boy's soul, and was going to exorcise it from the world in the only way he knew how.
Beating it senseless.
The two engaged in a brutal fight, but neither of them were armed. Their battle lasted from midnight to midday, until the demon was finally growing too weak to continue. Before the final blow was struck, the demon turned its sights on the monk. He was strong, powerful, and young. He would make the perfect host.
It possessed him immediately, but his strong faith prevented him from being completely corrupted. Unfortunately, he could no longer stay at his temple. The demonic influence on his soul made it painful to even be there, and with his fellow monks' blessings, he began to wander the world in search of a way to purify himself.
END FLASHBACK MODE
Nearly 60 years have passed since then. Now an old man, the monk has almost absolute control over the demon. While it did occasionally surface, he was, for the most part, safe. For some reason, he had been drawn to this specific part of the world. When he arrived, after a year of walking, he finally knew why.
There was a portal, sustained by some strange stones in the center of the nearby lake. He stood outside it, peering up from under his hat. His age showed: Wrinkles littered his face, and his hair was white, long and pulled back into a ponytail. A chest-length beard covered his face. His clothes, while slightly torn from travel, looked like a typical monk's outfit. Orange cloth and wooden sandals decorated with large prayer beads and bandages over his hands and forearms. The right sleeve was completely missing, while the left one only reached mid-forearm. They'd been torn off.
He just stared at the portal for a while. Would this be the place he could find his freedom? His salvation?
There was only one way to find out.
He walked through the portal, without a hint of fear or hesitation.