A FUGITIVE

A man galloped over the icy white snowfield.
Three people chased him.

An arrow, with a string dangling off the end, pierced deep into the running man’s leg.
He hit the ground rolling, tumbling, and only just barely managed to push himself back up to his feet.
But it was already too late, and his pursuers would soon overtake him.

Ragil, the senior ranger of the Algor Kingdom, could sense their long pursuit over the past few days nearing its end.
The fugitive raced through the snow-covered northern forests for three days at a speed comparable to that of a Northern Kingdom Ranger, barely sleeping.

Ragil looked at the fallen fugitive and drew the long sword he was wearing around his waist.
An eerie cry rang out soon after.

The man was a fugitive who stole the sacred relics of the Flame Church.
The instructions from their superiors were to cut off the man’s head and retrieve the sacred relics.
Because in the cold north, the warmth of the fire was more important than anything else.

Snap.

Red blood splattered across pure white snow.
The fugitive’s head rolled into the snow.
Ragil wiped the blood off his sword and jerked his head.

“Search.”

The rangers moved forward to search the man’s pockets.
They found a dried woman’s hand and a shard of blue glass.
Some mon

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