There existed an obsidian-black wooden bridge that connected the Long Road and the Forsaken Road, cutting right through the Mistwoods.
"Is this the Devil's Bridge?" a ten-year-old boy with hair as black as the bridge itself asked the bald man who sat with him atop a horse.
"You got a problem with the name, kid?" Johnson asked Talon as the horse casually walked onto the bridge.
"It looks and feels too safe to be the Devil's Bridge," Talon said, gazing at the rumbling waters of the River Long that the sturdy bridge spanned.
"It's called the Devil's Bridge because people believe it leads to the Devil's Domain," Johnson explained.
Talon wanted to argue that it was a foolish name, but the muddy road ahead, cutting directly through the Mistwoods, made him swallow his words.
"What's that smell?" Talon covered his nose to block the rotting stench in the air. The yellowish fog that shrouded their path made the road look more menacing.
"The fog is a lot thicker than usual, and this smell… maybe we should take another path," Johnson said, backing the horse off the bridge and opting for a longer but safer route. However, a single wanted poster he saw on this "safer" path made him question his decision.
"Jacob the Mad Dog? He's a Blessed too?" Talon asked, pointing at the poster.
"I know I said only Blessed ones have titles, but there are certain exceptions—like important people, terrible people, and some who are both. Anyone who achieves something significant enough can earn a title, though it's usually the Blessed who manage such feats," Johnson said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"You could be Johnson the Bald!" Talon teased.
"Then you can be Talon the Brat! We'll be a great duo of crime-fighting mercenaries who captures heinous criminals like Jacob the Mad Dog!" Johnson laughed as they traveled farther from the Mistwoods, where the rotting smell was now barely noticeable.
"Oi, oi, what do we have here?" a man with a red headband and a broken nose shouted, unsheathing his dagger. Behind him stood a group of men, dressed shabbily and wielding various weapons.
Johnson's eyes landed on an imposing bearded man atop a white horse, a characteristic scar running across his face.
"Hey, that's Jacob the Mad Dog! We'll be titled soon," Talon joked, but seeing Johnson's serious expression, he felt a pang of déjà vu.
"I apologize if we've done anything to offend esteemed and recognized individuals such as yourselves. I'm aware that one must pay a price for passing through your glorious territory," Johnson said respectfully, taking out some silver coins from his pouch and extending them to the bandit with the red headband.
"Robbie, finish this quickly. We have important matters to attend to!" Jacob, the man on the white horse, said impatiently, a sadistic grin on his face.
Robbie, the one with the red headband, sighed and threw his dagger toward Johnson, who surprisingly dodged it by tilting his head. Robbie pushed his surprise aside and threw more daggers, all of which Johnson blocked with his sword, along with several arrows from the other bandits, who seemed to enjoy playing target practice.
It was difficult to block everything while protecting both himself and Talon, but Johnson ensured only he took damage, keeping Talon safe behind him. Just when Johnson thought it was the end, a thunderous howl made him and all the men tremble. A yellow fog spread everywhere, accompanied by the smell of rotting flesh, and a giant figure emerged from the ground, obscured by the fog.
"A w-wolf?" Robbie stammered, his voice trembling as the daggers he threw at the figure simply bounced off it.
By this time, Johnson had steered the horse around and tried to escape, his body riddled with arrows and daggers.
"Johnson, Johnson…" Talon called out with teary eyes.
"I'm alright, kid, just rel—"
The next thing Talon saw was the head of a giant grey wolf biting down, taking out Johnson, half the horse, and both of Talon's arms in a single chomp.
Talon's eyes widened, devoid of light. He remembered terrible and happy moments of his life,' just when i was starting to enjoy life again'
"I WILL KILL YOU!" Talon roared at the giant wolf, which looked directly into his eyes and… laughed.
"Ke ke ke ke… I look forward to the day we finnally meet!"
The wolf's sonorous laughter faded as its figure vanished the same way it had emerged.
"Holy shit!" Robbie exclaimed, removing his headband with one hand and wiping sweat with the other.
"His arms grew back! Capture him!" Jacob ordered the group of bandits when he noticed the arms of the black haired boy regenerating.
The bandids shot a few arrows at Talon. One pierced his neck, but Talon didn't flinch. The bandits effortlessly captured him and tied him to their horse.
Jacob pulled the arrows from Talon's body one by one, watching in fascination and disgust as the wounds healed.
"If you have a way to kill me, be my guest. I've tried and failed a few times myself," Talon said, noticing the bandits' expressions.
"Kill you? Who in their right mind would kill a fortune?" Jacob asked with a laugh as he mounted his horse.
"Boss, the men found a pouch full of gold and this… token!" Robbie said, handing Jacob the bloody token with the rising sun emblem.
"Even a freak like you can become a Saint Candidate? How unfair this world is!" Jacob sighed, pocketing the token. The gang set out toward a certain location in the far south of the county, where an infamous mountain range lay.
Meanwhile, in Loren, a particular priest gazed out the window of his cabin. The view was spectacular—a colorful, beautiful garden accompanied by a large fountain and a statue of Lucarius, the Sun God worshipped by the Church of the Sun. Yet the priest's eyes were filled with sorrow.
"Is it right for us to eliminate a child just because he could be used by evildoers?" the priest asked, a question that had plagued his mind for hours.
"Only those with the Heartwood bloodline can find the Vault of the Sage of Life, let alone open it. You're a smart man, Cyrus. You can imagine what would happen if heretics got their hands on the divine treasure," an elderly priest said while brewing tea for them both.
"Head Priest Aron, you are a wise teacher and is known for your devotion to the Lord. Just tell me this: how can we, who are meant to heal, begin to take lives?" Cyrus asked, looking at the old priest with a hopeful expression,
"Why not? If it saves millions what's wrong with taking a few lives?. That child must be executed when he reaches the church. This is the Pontifex's order!"
The High Priest's words were firm and clear. Cyrus's expression shifted from melancholy to determination. He made a circle across his chest and said,
"May the glorious sun dispel the darkness of the night."
The High Priest mirrored the gesture and said with a proud smile,
"Let there be a day after every night."