Getting Cuffed!

Huff…puff!

Aldric's breath hung in the cold air, white and fleeting. The sun was barely visible across the horizon, and his legs rested for a moment as he finally spotted the silhouette of the ruins in the distance.

Broken pillars, half-buried in snow, stretched toward a darkening sky—remnants of a temple lost to time.

It was supposed to be abandoned. A rumor, whispered by merchants and travelers in taverns. An old temple in the mountains, sealed and forgotten—its relics untouched.

But the tracks in the snow told a different story. Heavy boots. Fresh. Leading past the shattered archway, into the darkness beyond.

"What the hell? Did someone else reach here before me!?"

This time Aldric's quest was to gather the snow plant named Vbiver; however, it was just a pretense for him to scavenge the ruined temple and try his luck.

"Shit, I thought I could finally settle with the abandoned treasure from inside. Curse my luck!"

Aldric adjusted the strap of his pack, fingers brushing the hilt of the short blade at his side.

"Leave it! I'll just go inside and see whoever's here! If the party of adventurers is without a healer, maybe I can share the spoils with them."

Yes, Aldric was a healer.

Typically, healers were rare, and awakening as one meant fortune—but that only applies to high-ranked healers. Aldric was your average neighborhood go-to healer.

As he entered deep into the temple, a sight made him shiver. 'What? Why are the dark priests here!!'

His staff, etched with faintly glowing runes, hummed against his back—holy magic, but weak and fading.

He couldn't risk drawing attention, not yet. The wind howled, bitter and sharp. But beneath it—a sound, faint but unmistakable.

Chanting.

The language was twisted, unfamiliar, and guttural. Aldric exhaled, breath misting.

A faint glow flickered beyond the next archway—orange and sickly, shadows twisting. The chanting grew louder, the words harsh and commanding.

Aldric pressed his back to the wall, inching closer. He risked a glance.

A hall, wide and crumbling. Hooded figures encircled an altar, runes carved deep into the stone. At their center—a relic, orb-shaped, pulsing with crimson light. Chains of energy coiled around it, seeping into the floor like veins.

The main figure inside the altar wore a hooded robe with a red serpent symbol. With every word he chanted, a reaction unfolded. Magic flared, raw and dark. The air trembled.

"Who goes there!!"

A roaring voice called out. The main figure who had been chanting spells spotted Aldric's position and glanced his way.

"Holy cow!" Aldric cursed and turned around, sprinting, but he was already trapped.

"Strange one, you come seeking your death. Your timing is perfect—I was just preparing to sacrifice a lamb for my serpent god. You're an improvement."

"Shut up, old man!"

Holy light flared to life, threads of gold weaving into a barrier between the cultist and the altar. Aldric stepped forward, staff raised. The runes along its length pulsed as a cube-shaped mirage transformed in front, precisely between Aldric and the cultist.

"Drop the magic barrier now and let me leave! As a high priest, I will gladly forgive you and just imprison you for 10 years."

Aldric commanded, but in reality, his legs were already shaking to the core. He handled the situation perfectly—after all, the best defense is a good offense!

The leader's eyes, glinting beneath the hood, narrowed. A snarl, a flick of the staff—dark energy surged. Aldric grittedhis teeth. The strain bit deep, mana draining fast. The runes along his staff flickered, light dimming. He couldn't hold it for long.

The leader sneered, magic coiling in his palm. "Holy magic," he hissed, contempt thick. "You're a long way from your temple, priest."

A blast of dark energy slammed into him. Aldric stumbled back, vision swimming. Pain lanced through his skull, raw and electric. The leader's staff glowed, dark and hungry.

"Shit, I am finished!"

"Don't resist, you lowly priest! Embrace the Serpent God!"

"Holy barrier!"

Aldric exhaled sharply after forming a temporary barricade around himself, but he knew it wouldn't last long. He sighed and felt the talisman beneath his cloak—a sun sigil, warm and pulsing. An emergency reserve, untested. Dangerous. He hesitated a breath too long.

Dark magic slammed into him, ripping through the barrier. His back hit stone, air driven from his lungs. The staff skittered from his grasp, runes dimming. Cold metal touched his throat. The leader leaned close, eyes glinting. "A wasted effort," he sneered. "The gods are dead. Their light fades."

"Fuck you!"

Aldric's fingers closed around the talisman. Mana surged, wild and unchecked. Holy light flared—searing, blinding. The dark energy recoiled, the cult leader's snarl twisted into a scream.

The light tore through the hall, shredding shadows, burning runes from stone. The relic on the altar cracked, crimson light bleeding out.

When the light faded, the hall lay in ruins. The old man had been blown apart, his body in different corners. Aldric struggled to his feet, breath ragged. The talisman hung warm against his chest, light dimming.

His staff—cracked but intact—lay within reach.

But the relic the cultist had been working on lay in the altar—fractured but not broken. Faint crimson light pulsed from the cracks, energy seeping into the stones. Aldric's fingers twitched.

"If I could sell it on the black market, it would definitely go for a good price! Yes, after that, I'll buy a property, find a bride and settle in an outskirt village."

He grabbed the orb and turned, staff raised, mana flickering weakly—and froze. Knights in black and gold, sun sigils bright on their shields, weapons drawn.

At their head, a woman with auburn hair, eyes cold and sharp. Her gaze fell to the altar, then to Aldric—bloodstained, cloak scorched, holy light still crackling at his fingertips. Her eyes narrowed.

"By order of the Sun Court," she declared, voice like iron. "Lay down your staff. You are under arrest."

All that plan for settling in life, just to get arrested.