Riven sat on a bench, his sleeve stained with blood. His arm and ribs hurt from fighting, and he ached with each passing minute.
The words of the red-eyed man he encountered earlier still linger in his mind.
"That thing around your soul… It's not a curse. It's a leash."
He looked down at his trembling hands once again. And clenched it.
"What did he mean by that?"
He wasn't sure how he survived the fight against him. Also, he knew that he would have lost if that man hadn't held back.
Then, suddenly. His stomach growled.
"Why now? I shouldn't have dropped the skewer. Where will I find food? Most importantly, I don't have any money with me."
He took his coin pouch. And it was empty.
The voice inside him whispered again.
"Stealing to survive is not a bad deed."
Riven, after hearing this, rubbed his forehead.
"I am not planning to steal. Even if I die starving."
"Be careful. If you are not… You will die early."
Riven replied with a sigh.
"What if I die early?" he muttered. "Why does that matter to you?"
"I didn't know the thing inside me was an evil bastard."
"I am not a bastard, you pathetic orphan."
"Fuck. This bastard can even hear my thoughts."
***
Elsewhere…
The Capital of Aldrenor gleamed under light, with its bustling atmosphere filled with people and street cats that caused ruckus. It was indeed a spectacle. It wasn't an empire or a part of any Kingdom. It was under the authority of StarBound Hall.
At its heart stood the Starbound Hall, where the gods' laws were kept. Its golden doors shone bright with a rich texture, but inside, the place was as cold as it was grand.
Near the eastern gardens, in a room filled with morning light and luxurious furniture, a man stirred his tea, slow, practiced circles in the cup. That kind of calm only comes from a man who knows the meaning of patience.
He had a neatly trimmed beard and calm eyes, just like his personality. The blazing star on his white cloak marked him as one of the Legendary Imperial Stars.
He was Van Joiva. Known across kingdoms as the Silver Lancer. One among ten who played an important role in showcasing the absolute power of StarBound Hall.
He sat in his polished seat, reading the documents on his table, until the door creaked open behind him.
A navy blue-robed person stepped into his room— a young messenger who worked for him, looking pale.
Van Joiva didn't look up. "Speak."
The boy knelt and offered the sealed scroll that had a black wax seal.
"From the eastern scouts, my lord. A situation in Lavian."
Joiva slit the black wax open. His face didn't change as he read… but he stopped stirring his tea.
"Chains?" he asked softly.
"Yes, sir," the messenger nodded. "Witnesses described black chains emerging during a conflict with local enforcers. Two men were injured. The suspect fled. The town believes he's a Cursed—possibly a Dark Bearer."
The air went stiff between them.
Van Joiva pushed back his chair and moved to the balcony, and stared out at the city below.
"Lavian… wasn't that where that old noble family used to rule? The one that vanished after the rebellion?"
The messenger hesitated. "Yes, my lord. House Velmora. They were... destroyed fifteen years back. Every record erased. Any survivors vanished without a trace."
Joiva's lips twitched.
"Velmora. I remember that name."
He turned away from the balcony. "Send word to Sareth. He's stationed in Elithil, is he not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Assign him this task. Quietly. No banners. No sermons. If a Dark Bearer's moving through our cities, we crush it before the fire starts."
The messenger bowed. "What shall I tell him?"
Van Joiva's silver eyes glinted.
"Have him track the boy. Crush his will if you must. Kill him if he resists. Just ensure he never reaches another city."
"And if he's not a simple Dark Bearer?" the messenger dared to ask.
Van Joiva smiled faintly and returned to his tea and took a small sip.
"Then it'll be a good lesson for Sareth."
****
One day later, back in the Border Town…
Riven finally dragged himself out of the alley after having a deep sleep, he kept his hood low to not catching any attention.
But now he walked with a limp, though it wasn't much visible to others, it was painfully visible to him. The village had begun to wake up, he saw merchants opening their stalls, carts rumbling on the cobblestone streets. A group of guards is walking on high alert.
"They haven't seen me yet. That's good."
He walked by a bakery—the smell of warm bread hit him like a wall.
He stopped there just for a moment.
Then the voices came again.
Two men stood near the corner shop, one was holding a spear while the other was holding a parchment.
"Some cursed brat was seen around here yesterday."
"With chains?"
"Yeah. Inquisitors are already on it. They will catch him sooner or later."
The other spat. "They should hang him. Too many of these things are crawling out of the cracks lately."
Riven didn't wait to hear more.
"Fuck. Not again. I have to leave."
He moved fast, slipping down another alley, and this time he headed toward the lower part of town. His chest ached, but he kept running.
Meanwhile, on the roof above, a brown-haired boy in royal blue and gold-colored armor smirked, his fancy spear glinting.
His eyes gleamed with interest.
"So that's the one?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glowing crystal.
"Van Joiva was right. He does look like trouble."
The wind whipped his cloak as he dropped to the ground without a sound.
"I shall cleanse this curse from existence."