Daigo The Making of a Legend: Origins of the Outlaw

The mountain air was colder than Daigo remembered. 

A gentle wind rolled through the ancient pine trees surrounding Togouchi's temple, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked earth and old wood. The sacred structure stood exactly where it always had, overlooking the valley below and the distant rooftops of Katsuya Village. 

Some places felt untouched by time. 

This was one of them. 

Daigo stood before the temple's entrance for a moment, his hands resting behind his back. Although he was now a Council Lord, responsible for the safety and prosperity of the village, this place still made him feel like a student. 

Togouchi's student. 

His mentor had been gone for years, but traces of him could still be found everywhere within these walls. 

The old stories. 

The preserved artifacts. 

The lessons hidden between dusty scrolls. 

Daigo pushed open the large wooden doors. 

They groaned softly. 

Sunlight streamed through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating rows of ancient displays. Blades rested in glass cases. Maps covered nearby tables. Statues and relics collected during Togouchi's countless adventures stood proudly across the hall. 

Everything looked peaceful. 

Exactly as it should. 

Daigo grabbed a cloth and began cleaning. 

Protecting the temple had become one of the promises he valued most. 

Many believed the relics inside were simply old treasures. 

Daigo knew better. 

Knowledge was far more dangerous than any weapon. 

Hours passed as he worked. 

He checked display cases. 

Reorganized records. 

Removed dust from shelves. 

Every so often he discovered notes written by Togouchi himself. 

Small pieces of advice. 

Observations. 

Warnings. 

Each felt like another conversation with his old mentor. 

By afternoon, only one room remained untouched. 

The western chamber. 

It had always been one of the least visited parts of the temple. 

Daigo grabbed a lantern and stepped inside. 

Dust coated everything. 

Spiderwebs stretched between support beams. 

Ancient portraits lined the walls, many so dirty their faces could barely be seen. 

"I guess this room wins for being forgotten," Daigo muttered. 

He began cleaning. 

One painting after another slowly revealed forgotten ancestors from Togouchi's bloodline. 

Warriors. 

Scholars. 

Travellers. 

Guardians. 

Generations stretching back well over two hundred years. 

Then Daigo reached the final portrait. 

Unlike the others, this one was massive. 

Its frame was carved from dark wood. 

Dust completely covered the image. 

Curious, Daigo wiped it clean. 

Slowly, a figure emerged. 

A warrior. 

The man stood beneath a golden sky. 

His face was partially hidden beneath a cloak. 

His eyes seemed almost alive. 

Something about the painting felt strange. 

Almost unsettling. 

As Daigo adjusted its position, he heard something. 

Click. 

His eyes narrowed. 

The sound had come from behind the wall. 

Carefully, he lifted the painting from its hooks. 

Behind it sat smooth stone. 

Nothing unusual. 

Until he noticed a small section protruding from the wall. 

Barely visible. 

Daigo pressed it. 

A deep rumbling sound filled the room. 

Dust exploded into the air. 

Stone shifted. 

The wall slowly opened. 

Daigo stepped back. 

Hidden behind the painting was a secret compartment. 

For several seconds he simply stared. 

In all his years maintaining the temple, he had never seen anything like this. 

Inside were scrolls. 

Dozens of them. 

Posters. 

Journals. 

Maps. 

Boxes containing carefully preserved documents. 

Everything looked ancient. 

His curiosity immediately took over. 

He reached inside and removed a scroll. 

The paper was fragile but still readable. 

As soon as he opened it, his expression changed. 

The scroll contained records of Togouchi's family. 

Names. 

Dates. 

Adventures. 

Generations of history. 

Yet one word appeared repeatedly throughout the document. 

Outlaw. 

Daigo frowned. 

The Outlaw.