In ancient times, when the universe was still young and the stars had barely begun to shine, two star gods were born, brothers destined to rule time and destiny. Sun -Lord, the majestic god of the sun, and Moon-Lord, the enigmatic god of the moon. United by an eternal bond, the brothers gazed into the endless void and, wishing to fill it with life, combined their powers to forge a planet of fertile soil. To this new world, they bestowed a divine gift: the gift of life.
Sun-Lord dedicated his luminous energy to nurturing and thriving life under the warm rays of the day, while Moon-Lord welcomed and sheltered creatures under the protective blanket of the starry night. For eons, life flourished. Plants, beasts, and seas danced to the beat of perfect balance. The gods, satisfied with their work, retreated into the celestial silence, letting time flow like an eternal river.
However, their rest was interrupted by the appearance of a peculiar creature: the human being. This new entity, as restless as it was ambitious, possessed a disconcerting nature. Often, its insatiable desire for more led it to upset the balance of the world. Curious and bewildered, the gods closely observed this new creation. They soon noticed a detail that disturbed the peace in their hearts: humans fervently worshipped the sun, but almost completely ignored the moon.
Moon-Lord, until then serene, began to be consumed by a dark feeling. Envy blossomed in his spirit, and a desire to be equally revered germinated in his chest. Dominated by this longing, he made a drastic decision: he created four angels with a single purpose: to overthrow Sun-Lord and claim complete control of the planet. But Sun-Lord, foreseeing betrayal, also created four angels, destined to preserve the balance and protect life from the impending darkness.
Thus began a titanic conflict, in which the sky burned and the ground shook under the clash of colossal forces. The war was protracted, but in the end, Sun-Lord prevailed. Defeated, Moon-Lord was banished to a distant dimension, sealed in eternal oblivion. The four angels who had fought at his side were spared, but on one condition: if Moon-Lord ever returned, they would face their former creator to defend the balance. Satisfied, Sun-Lord decided to withdraw from the world, handing over guardianship of the Earth to living beings.
Millennia passed. Peace seemed to have taken deep root, until two of the angels made a mistake that would change the fate of the planet: they fell in love. Their forbidden union gave birth to a ninth angel, a creature who, by its mere existence, destabilized the delicate balance the gods had imposed.
It was then that magic awoke from its slumber. During the nights, deformed monsters began to emerge, spreading terror among living creatures. Trees gained sentience, tearing themselves from the earth to roam as guardians of the forest. Animals evolved, rising on two legs and organizing themselves into societies with human features. New humanoid races emerged, founding cities and territories brimming with wonder and danger. Thus, the planet ceased to be what it once was, transforming into a world as beautiful as it was chaotic.
As punishment for disrupting the balance, the nine angels were banished to Earth and turned into precious stones, known as Seiseki, or sacred stones. Each one held an incomprehensible power, a divine vestige of the gods' energy. According to legend, whoever gathers these stones will inherit the legacy of protecting the Earth on the day Moon-Lord returns to claim his place.
Thus was born the prophecy of the Divine Guard, a group of warriors chosen by destiny, destined to preserve the balance of the world. Their mission will be to confront the shadows of the past and ensure that peace and light prevail, even in the darkest times.
In the serene and isolated village of Santa Olaria, the doors of the central tavern swung open, letting in the fresh evening air. Everyone present turned their heads in curiosity, and in the doorway appeared the figure of a small fox carrying a worn leather bag and wearing a jungle-green bandana that contrasted with its fur. His eyes sparkled with determination, and a daring smile lit his face. Without hesitation, he crossed the narrow passage between the tables, ignoring the suspicious glances and murmurs that followed him. Upon reaching the counter, he stood before the innkeeper and spoke confidently:
—Excuse me for entering your establishment, but I need to know...
The innkeeper, a robust man with a stern expression, interrupted him sharply: "Hey, fox, can't you read? The entrance clearly states that no animals are allowed."
Fogón's initial confidence wavered, but he still replied, in a respectful tone: "Y-yes, I understand, but I just want to ask a question. If you could be so kind as to..."
"Don't manipulate me, you beast!" the innkeeper snapped, frowning as he pointed at the door. "The rule here is clear: if you're a furry, there's no service. And that goes for you too, Ambrosio!" he added, looking at a customer with a thick beard. "Shave it already!"
The fox swallowed, but didn't give in. In a firmer voice, he insisted: "I promise I'll leave soon, but it's urgent. Do you know where? " could find a ... Seiseki ?
The words seemed to freeze the air. The bustle of the tavern immediately died away, and the previously murmuring customers now fixed their gazes on the small visitor. The innkeeper stopped polishing the glass in his hands and leaned toward Stove, whispering in a tone thick with tension: "Don't mention that again, do you understand, little beast? If anyone hears you, they won't hesitate to take your life to take the power those gems grant. Do me a favor: get off my property before you get everyone in trouble, you pulpy beast, get out of here!"
The fox took a step back, his tail dipping slightly, and for a moment he seemed to hesitate. However, his resolve led him to act boldly. He leaped onto one of the nearest tables, the sound of his paws echoing on the wood, and pulled a few gold coins from his pouch. He held them up so everyone in the tavern could see them. His voice, clear and defiant, rose above the silence:
—My name is Fogón, and yes, I am a fox! I'm looking for a Seiseki stone. Long ago, I promised a friend that I would become the greatest warrior of all, and I'm not going to break my promise. I have no idea where to start, but here are five gold coins for anyone who can give me information on where to find one of those stones. Speak now or forever hold your peace!
The fox, chest out and gaze resolute, openly challenged everyone present. A whisper swept through the room like a gust of wind. Some looked at him with pity, others with curiosity, but there was no shortage of covetous eyes focused on the coins glittering in the dim lamplight.
The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Fogón, though trembling inside, didn't look away or lower his head. He knew this was the first of many tests, and he had no intention of giving up.
The innkeeper, gritting his teeth, tried to remain calm as the murmurs in the tavern died away. All eyes were on the little fox, whose determination had transformed the noisy room into a place filled with tension. Stovetop remained upright on the table, his coins gleaming in the dim light, waiting for an answer that seemed to take forever to arrive.
When someone finally broke the silence, it was not with seriousness, but with a thunderous laugh.
—HAHAHA! What a ridiculous sight! Isn't it, Gaston? —a man in the corner shouted, slamming his palm on the table as he laughed uncontrollably.
Laughter erupted like a flooded river. "A fox looking for the magic gems! How wonderful!" "I bet we find him in the dump tomorrow, and in pieces!" someone else added, amid peals of laughter.
Fogón remained motionless as the mockery spread like wildfire. Little by little, he lowered his head, gathered his coins, and jumped off the table. Without saying a word, he left the tavern to the chorus of laughter and biting comments. The cold night air greeted him with a cruel embrace.
It doesn't matter if they laugh at me, she thought as she walked through the deserted streets. I will keep my promise, no matter what it costs. Tears, hot but unstoppable, began to stream down her face. Today may not be the day, and tomorrow may not be the day either, but one day it will be, and then everyone will understand the weight of my promise.
The sky was rapidly darkening, and the icy wind forced him to clench his jaw to keep going. He passed several inns, but each time he received the same answer, wrapped in false excuses: "Sorry, we're flooded." "We don't accept pets; there's a flea infestation." "Service is suspended; come back tomorrow."
Fogón bowed his head with each refusal, not arguing, though with each step the cold seemed to penetrate him more deeply. I understand they don't want animals around, he thought, while suppressing a groan. But it hurts. It's unfair.
Finally, turning a corner, he came to a secluded alley. There, in the gloom, he found a shabby-looking inn. The walls were covered in grime, the smell of sewage permeated the air, and piles of garbage sat beside the entrance. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door. It opened with a creak, revealing a man as neglected as the place.
"What do you want here?" the man growled, his voice raspy and his breath filled with a sulfurous stench.
—I'm just looking for a place to spend the night. I've searched all over town, but no one will let me in.
The man raised an eyebrow, sizing him up from head to toe. "I understand. I'll tell you what, Raccoon."
—I-I'm not a raccoon.
"Shhh," he cut him off with a brusque gesture. "Decent people don't want mangy animals sleeping where they rest. No one will accept you, not even me." Stove hung his head in defeat, but before he could leave, the man added, "Although… I have a place where I keep the tools. If you pay double, you can stay there. What do you say?"
Fogón gritted his teeth, feeling a lump of helplessness in his chest, but he nodded. He knew he had no other choice. The man led him to the other end of the alley, where he opened a rotten wooden door. The stench of mold invaded Fogón's nose, and he muttered to himself, "It'll only be one night. Tomorrow things will get better. This is just another test."
He took ten gold coins from his bag, knowing it was a robbery, and entered the small room. There was an old straw mattress that seemed about to collapse. He lay down, trying to sleep, but the cold and the fleas soon reminded him of the inhospitable nature of the place. Every bite, every icy blast, was a reminder of his loneliness.
At midnight, a faint ray of moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating the room with a subtle silvery glow. Unable to sleep, Fogón got up and went to the window. He gazed at the moon with tears in his eyes. He knelt, clenched his fists against the damp ground, and exclaimed in a stifled cry:
—Lord, who sees everything and knows everything, why are you doing this to me?
Her broken voice echoed in the solitude of the room. She stamped her foot helplessly on the floor as the tears continued to fall. "I know people don't love me because I'm an animal, and animals don't love me because I'm a fox. But… there was someone who did love me once. Someone who guided my steps, who understood my mistakes, who showed me a path. You, who know everything, must understand what it means to be completely alone. If you won't give me the strength to go on… then at least let me be reunited with him."
Fogón wiped his tears, took a deep breath, and lay back down once more, determined to endure one more night. The promise he carried in his heart was the only thing that still kept him going.
As Fogón delved deeper into the refuge of night, his eyelids yielded to the weight of exhaustion, and his mind, like a river flowing into the unknown, led him to a dream filled with magic. The universe, compassionate to his weariness, opened a portal to an ephemeral and fantastic world. In this intangible space, Fogón found himself standing in a meadow of flowers that glowed under the soft light of an eternal sun. The warm breeze caressed his fur, and each flower seemed to dance to an invisible rhythm. Beyond the horizon, he glimpsed a figure that made his heart beat faster.
Without thinking, he ran across the meadow until he stopped in front of his old friend, who was wearing his trusty cowboy hat, a poncho that hung elegantly on him, and a brown shirt that perfectly matched his adventure-worn leather boots.
"Artur... is that you?" Fogón murmured with a mixture of disbelief and joy.
"That's right, Fogón. Did you miss me?" the man replied, a wide, warm smile lighting his face.
"Not a day has gone by that I haven't missed you, Artur. But... if it's you, that means..." Fogón's voice cracked as his ears flattened. "Am I dead already?"
Artur let out a serene laugh, filled with the confidence Fogón had always admired. "No, my little friend. It's not your time yet. But tell me, don't tell me you've already given up?"
"It's just... without you, everything feels too difficult," Fogón confessed, lowering his gaze. "I always dreamed of being a great warrior, like you, but I must admit... I've given up more times than I can count. I'm not strong enough to keep the promise I made to you."
Artur placed a firm hand on his shoulder and looked at him tenderly. "Fogón, that's all nonsense. I don't need you to keep any promises. I want you to live your life, and if you decide to become a warrior, let it be because you want to, not because I expect you to. But let me tell you something: there are things more valuable and important than power. Something I didn't understand in time, and by the time I did, it was too late."
Fogón's eyes widened with curiosity. "What was it that you really needed?"
Artur shook his head, his smile turning wistful. "That, my dear friend, you'll have to discover for yourself. I trust you will. Until next time, Stovetop. And remember, if you give it your all, you'll achieve what you desire. It's not for nothing that I left you my glory bandana; let it serve as a reminder that you are worthy of wearing it." With one last smile, Artur disappeared in a golden flash, leaving the meadow silent.
Upon awakening, the light of day brought him out of his sleep. He sat on the uncomfortable straw mattress and stared at the green bandana around his neck. Artur's words echoed in his mind: What could be more important than power? With this question guiding him, Fogón headed to the village, determined to find answers. His first destination was an inn to have some breakfast and, hopefully, find information about the Seiseki stones.
When he entered the place, the diners' stares pierced him like knives. He approached the waiter, took a deep breath, and asked in a firm voice, "Sir, may I...?"
But the answer was not long in coming, cutting him off immediately: "No, you can't," said the waiter disdainfully, crossing his arms in front of the counter.
—B-but he doesn't even know what he was going to say... —insisted Fogón, but the man interrupted him once again.
—I'm not interested. You can't do anything here, so you better leave.
Fogón felt frustration swirling in his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply, and, unyielding, turned to the rest of the audience.
"My name is..." he began with determination.
But before he could continue, the inn doors slammed open, interrupting him. Everyone present turned their heads toward the entrance. An imposing silhouette filled the doorway. It was a bearded man, nearly two meters tall, dressed in the uniform of the royal guards. His silver armor, though shiny, was stained with crimson. He was visibly limping, and with his other hand he pressed against his side, trying to staunch the flow of blood soaking his shirt.
The guard struggled through the room, each step echoing in the tense silence. His battle-hardened face was marked with traces of pain and exhaustion. As he reached the center of the counter, his knees buckled, and with a thud, he collapsed onto the wooden floor.
The entire tavern fell silent. No one moved or spoke, as if time had stopped.
People crowded around the wounded man, their faces reflecting astonishment and concern. The innkeeper, in a firm voice, parted the crowd: "We need a doctor! Is anyone here a doctor?"
An old man with round glasses and a gray mustache emerged from the crowd, carrying a worn leather briefcase. "I'm a doctor. Please move aside, I need some space," he commanded authoritatively.
The wounded man, lying on the ground, took the doctor's hand in a weak but desperate grip. His tear-filled eyes searched the old man's as he spoke in a halting voice: "Our King, Leonardo Rodríguez III, entrusted me with the mission of finding one of the legendary Seiseki stones. At first, I accepted, ignorant of the king's dark intentions and the immense power these stones possess. But not long ago, I discovered their true purpose... and the abominable plotting brewing within the kingdom's palaces." The man paused, gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face. "Faced with this revelation, I decided to rebel and flee, prepared to do anything to prevent this sinister plan from being carried out. But my betrayal did not go unnoticed. The king sent his most fearsome men after me. I barely managed to escape, but my strength... is waning."
The crowd listened in silence, the soldier's every word echoing in the room. "I cannot allow them to find the gem. This map..." he continued, pulling a crumpled scroll from his armor. "It is the only hope of keeping the Seiseki Stone from falling into the wrong hands. I beg you, with what remains of my breath, that someone with a brave heart take custody of this map. It is a sacrifice that could change the fate of our entire kingdom..."
Fogón, his heart pounding, knew this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for. With a nimble leap, he reached the dying man and, in a firm voice, exclaimed, "Sir, my name is Fogón the Fox, and it would be an honor to keep the map from falling into the wrong hands."
The soldier looked up at the little fox, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope. He extended his trembling hand. "Take my hand... little one..." Stove obeyed, taking his hand gently.
"This is more than a duty. It's a sacrifice. It won't just be the king's men who will be after you; mercenaries and power-hungry lunatics will as well. If they find you, they'll kill you without hesitation. Are you willing to die?" the soldier asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Fogón, with a determined look, answered without hesitation: "Yes, I am ready to die."
The man nodded weakly, removing the scroll from his armor and handing it to her. "This is the map... take care of it. The weight of my spirit... now rests in your... hands…" With those words, the soldier breathed his last. Fogón carefully closed his eyes as silence filled the room.
"Hey, mangy, if you value your life, you should destroy that map. You don't know the consequences of keeping it," said a villager, breaking the silence.
"The power of those gems is more of a curse than a blessing. It will lead to your death or worse. Destroy it immediately," another added.
Soon, the crowd began to murmur, trying to convince Stove to part with the map. But the little fox, with an unexpected roar, silenced them: "SILENCE!" he cried, a blazing fire in his eyes. "This is incredible! Don't you see? Today is the day I've waited so long for. I appreciate your concern, but I don't need your pity." With fierce determination, he climbed onto the inn and declared: "A moment ago, no one would listen to me, but now, with this map, everyone will hear me. My name is Stove the Fox, and I am going to become a member of the Divine Guard."
The atmosphere became oppressive, thick with anticipation. From the back of the inn, sinister laughter echoed, coming from figures hidden in the shadows. Fogón left the place with his head held high, his heart pounding. Soon I'll be part of the Divine Guard and I'll keep my promise, he thought as he walked through the winding streets of the town.
As he walked, his eyes never left the map he held in his hands. It was a fascinating object, with meticulous lines and intricate details. But something worried him: the map was written in a language he had never seen before. With a mixture of excitement and concern, he decided to head to the library, hoping to find a dictionary that would help him.
The rain began to fall gently, enveloping the town in a melancholic atmosphere. Upon reaching the library, Fogón entered cautiously, hiding the map in his sack. An elderly voice greeted him from the shadows: "You must be Fogón, the fox, aren't you? Come closer, little one. Your path will be prosperous. Do you want me to tell you about your destiny, cub?"
Fogón, bewildered, approached slowly. "Can you... see the future?"
"That's right, boy. My eyes no longer see the present, but they can see tomorrow. Take a seat and give me your hand. I'll tell you everything you need to know," the old woman whispered, extending her wrinkled hand.
Curious, Fogón took her hand. "Hmm... I see a map... and a long and dangerous journey. But you will overcome every challenge until you reach your goal."
—Thank you, ma'am. I needed to hear that.
The old woman smiled, but her expression turned sinister. "Nothing comes for free, son. That map is unnecessary. Give it to me as payment."
—I can't. It was entrusted to me, and I can't hand it over.
The old woman snarled, her figure transforming into something monstrous. "Then you will be my eternal slave!" she screamed. The witch extended her arm and recited a spell: "Burning flames, in my hand are born, fly and attack, let them embrace everyone!" She threw a fireball that grazed Stovetop. Taking advantage of the explosion, the fox escaped through a gap in the wall, his heart pounding. I can't let him take the map from me, he thought as he ran through the rain.
The air filled with a deafening roar as a second fireball slammed into the cobblestone floor. The crash echoed like a thousand thunderclaps unleashed in unison, and fragments of books and paper rose in a chaotic storm, dancing among smoke and ash. Every corner of the library trembled from the impact, while a stifling heat spread like a relentless wave.
"You will not escape me, my dear friend, fox!" the witch exclaimed, her squeaky voice reverberating with a malevolence that made one's skin crawl. Her face, distorted by a wicked grimace, looked more like a nightmare mask than a human one. She extended her arm, reciting fiercely: "Living stone, heed my voice, rise from the earth and strike without reason."
The earth beneath Stove began to vibrate with a deep, rising roar. The ground tore with a deafening crunch, and from its bowels emerged a colossal clay creature, animated by dark magic. Its eyes, red like burning embers, glowed with inhuman fury. The beast, towering and vicious, let out a guttural growl that seemed capable of chilling the soul of anyone who heard it.
Stovetop, paralyzed with fear, staggered back until he fell to the ground. His legs trembled, unable to respond, as he watched in horror as the golem ascended. The monster, its every step an earthquake that shook the library's foundations, fixed its burning gaze on the little fox. The villagers who had remained nearby, still in disbelief at what had happened, screamed in terror and fled in disarray, leaving behind a chaos of rubble and fear.
I can't move... Is this the end for me? Fogón's thoughts raced through his mind as the golem drew closer, its immense body casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the fox whole. He thought it would go a little further...
The golem, now facing Stove, raised its gigantic fist, a massive weapon formed from hardened earth and dark magic, charged with a destructive force that seemed unstoppable. The fox closed his eyes, his heart pounding one last time as he silently whispered, "I'm sorry, Artur. I couldn't keep my promise... I hope, if you allow me, we'll meet again in the next life."
The creature's fist descended with brutal speed, like an inescapable sentence. But just when it seemed all was lost, a blinding flash of golden light pierced the air, illuminating Fogón's face and halting the golem's advance at the last instant. A wave of energy engulfed the room, silencing even the witch, who let out a cry of frustration.
Suddenly, time froze for a second. It was as if a light called to him from beyond, a light so bright his eyes could not see it. For a brief moment, Fogón felt a profound peace. But then he reacted: that light did not come from beyond, but from the sword of the most powerful warrior Fogón had ever seen. With a single slash of light, the warrior cut the fearsome beast in half.
"Who dares stand in my way?" the witch said, visibly angry.
"My name is Bleid Brightlight, and I didn't come to kill you, witch. You destroyed a public institution and wiped out nearly ten years of transcribed information. But don't worry, it was only material damage. Pay the debt you owe and surrender, and I won't harm you," said the brave swordsman with white hair and sky-blue eyes, pointing his shining sword at the witch.
"Defeat me? HAHAHA! You don't even come close to my ankles, young man. I'll tell you a secret: I deeply despise ill-mannered children," the witch said, stretching out her arm and incantation, "Shadow and dust, cold night, cross the veil, return to the day. By my voice I call you, from the dust, I call you!"
With these words, the earth began to shake again. Warriors from ancient times, now transformed into living corpses, emerged with dark magic and an insatiable desire for flesh. The monsters remained still, waiting for their mistress's command to rush to lunch.
—JIJIJI, now I'll be kind to you. Go away and don't come back, or my dear minions will devour you until they're satisfied, and you'll become just another one in my collection.
There was a prolonged silence, where the swordsman and the witch's gazes clashed as if in a battle of wills. The first blink would be defeat. Even Fogón, paralyzed by fear, stood still, as if his survival instinct dictated that not moving was the best option to avoid being seen. The entire town watched in fear and amazement at the incredible scene unfolding before their eyes.
The tension in the air was palpable, and every second felt like an eternity. The witch, with a malicious smile, reveled in the power she wielded over everyone present. The swordsman knew that any false move could seal his fate and that of the villagers.
—Ha... Haha... HAHAHA —the swordsman began to laugh louder and louder.
"Are you making fun of me? Insolent!" the witch said angrily, her eyes flashing like blazing flames.
—Excuse me, I was really hoping you'd refuse to cooperate. If I may tell you a secret, I, too, hate monsters like you immensely.
"Attack! Eat him alive!" the witch said with a twisted smile as the dead roared with hunger and desire. A malignant, bloodthirsty light shone in their eyes.
The dead rushed toward Bleid, growling and screaming like wild animals, determined to follow their mistress's command. Bleid raised the sword behind her shoulder and in a tender voice whispered:
—Rest in peace, dear colleagues... At least that's what you deserve for your sacrifice...
A flashing light began to emanate from the hero's sword, illuminating the darkness with an almost heavenly glow. With a single blow, he sliced the entire army in half. But before the light could subside, Bleid swung his sword at the witch, piercing her completely.
"You... How...?" The witch could barely speak, blood gushing from her mouth and her eyes rolling back, losing their hellish glow.
"I must thank my sword. It's the sharpest in the kingdom , and... I think it matches my eyes, don't you?" he whispered to the witch with a self-centered gesture.
—Mal... di... to... —the witch exhaled with her last breath, before disintegrating in a blinding flash that dissipated into stardust.
Fogón stood motionless, dazzled by what he had just witnessed. His thoughts raced through his mind: "Have I died? Is that an angel over there?" The approaching figure radiated an imposing presence. His sword, now sheathed, had shone as if it carried divine light itself. Every step the warrior took toward Fogón echoed in his mind, raising more doubts than certainties.
"You must be Stove, right?" the man said, his voice firm but not lacking in warmth. "I heard about you at the tavern. I knew it was only a matter of time before you got into serious trouble. By the way, my name is Bleid Brightlight, master of the art of monster hunting."
After finishing speaking, Bleid extended his hand to Fogón to help him up. However, he remained paralyzed with astonishment, still processing everything that had happened.
"W-you... saved me?" Fogón stammered from the ground, his voice shaking.
"Of course. It's my duty. I couldn't allow that abominable creature to make you his slave. No one would want to end up in such a... pitiful situation." Bleid waved his hand with a mixture of patience and authority, waiting for a reaction.
Embarrassed, Fogón jumped up, bowing deeply in gratitude.
—Thank you so much, sir! I don't know how I could ever repay you...
"You don't have to pay me anything," Bleid replied with a calm smile. "A monster like that can take us all by surprise. Although I must say... you look too skinny. How about you join me for lunch?"
Fogón's confusion lasted only a few seconds. His empty stomach growled in response to the proposal, and without much else to add, he nodded timidly. The tears he had held back until then began to flow. They weren't just from fear, but also from relief.
"Don't cry," Bleid said, patting him on the shoulder. "You've been brave. Wipe those tears away and get ready. I don't want you to leave my side."
Confused, Fogón hastily wiped his face before asking, "Prepare for what?"
Before Bleid could respond, a crowd of villagers emerged from the streets, chanting the warrior's name and filling the air with a mixture of joy and gratitude.
"Bleid Brightlight has saved us!" they shouted as they surrounded the swordsman and Stove.
"Don't worry, my friends. The witch has paid for her crimes," Bleid announced calmly, holding Fogón tightly to keep him close.
An old man in the group stepped forward with a worried expression. "Sir, we are eternally grateful, but the library has been destroyed... What ?" we are going to do now ?
"The library will be rebuilt," Bleid declared with conviction, raising his hand to quiet the murmurs. "I'll lay every brick myself if necessary. That's a promise."
The villagers erupted in cheers and expressions of admiration: "You are a remarkable man!" "God bless you, good sir," and other praises. As they walked through the village, the crowd followed the warrior, as if his mere presence were a beacon of hope.
Later, the tension that had dominated the air finally dissipated. Bleid took Fogón to a tavern in the village, a surprisingly welcoming place with details that, although modest to any experienced traveler, were, in Fogón's eyes, incomparable elegance. Oil lamps bathed the wooden walls in a warm orange light, and the smell of roasting meats filled the air.
Fogón still didn't fully understand what had happened, but hunger was a stronger enemy than his doubts. In just half an hour, he devoured three plates of roast truffles, magical wild boars whose meat was covered in juicy mushrooms and edible truffles. His face beamed with satisfaction when he finally turned to Bleid with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude:
—Excuse me... I don't mean to be ungrateful, but... why are you so nice to me?
Bleid took a long sip of his beer, letting the foam brush his mustache before answering in that deep voice that seemed to imbue the air with authority:
"This morning I received a report of a dead soldier. It's not uncommon in my line of work, but I always make sure they have a proper funeral." He paused, letting his words weigh before continuing. "However, when I arrived, the villagers were buzzing about you. They said a very foolish fox had brought a map to one of the legendary stones with him… and that, unbeknownst to him, he was about to bring great trouble to the village." A burst of laughter echoed around the room as Bleid took another sip, filled with amusement.
"I guess they were right... I'm just a dumb fox," Fogón muttered, looking down sadly.
Bleid slammed his beer down on the table, drawing the young man's attention back to him. "You may be a little reckless," he admitted truthfully, "but I've also heard that you're looking to join the legendary Divine Guard." The pause was brief, but long enough for the warrior to burst out laughing. Tears welling in his eyes, he added, "HAHAHA! Really? That exact 'silly reason' is what made me a hero!"
Fogón's eyes lit up, and his face, which had been filled with doubt a moment before, now displayed a smile so wide it almost hurt. For the first time in a long time, the young man felt like someone understood him.
As night fell, Bleid didn't hesitate to book a room in a clean and well-kept inn. As the town's hero, no one questioned his bringing Stove with him. The little fox, who had eaten more than his body could handle, fell fast asleep before crossing the threshold.
"Hob, huh?" Bleid murmured as he carefully carried him down the stairs and laid him down on a soft bed. "Who would have thought a fox like you would have the courage to dream so big?" The warrior stood for a few moments by the bed, watching him with a mixture of respect and pity. Then he leaned against the door, his somber thoughts returning.
I can feel the light emanating from you, but it's faint... he mused, crossing his arms. You won't survive long if you choose to follow the path that map suggests. Too many have treated you badly for me to mercilessly take it away from you. But if I can't convince you to give it up the easy way... then I'll have to take it from you the hard way.
With a sigh of resolve, Bleid blew out the candle that lit the room, letting the moonlight bathe the walls and accentuate the letters on the desk. The King's seal gleamed dimly in the silver sheen, a promise that the complications were only just beginning.