Sunlight pierced the fibers covering my head, irritating my skin. The rope around my neck tightened with each step, making every breath a struggle.
Relying on my other senses, I knew we had entered the heart of the city. We shuffled through dense crowds, the smell of body odor permeating the air, mingling with muttering and gossiping. It must have been one hell of a sight, but a usual one—a young man forcefully dragged with a bag over his head. Everyone knew what it meant.
Everything began to blur. Was the curse taking over again? No. Tears seeped from my eyes, my stomach churning with the pressure of it all. The weight of impending doom pressed down on me, crushing my spirit. What had I done to deserve this? Death in front of hundreds? I had done nothing—nothing to warrant this fate. Fear clawed at my insides, a cold, relentless grip that refused to let go. My mind screamed for mercy, for justice. But there was no escape, only the suffocating reality of my unjust punishment.
They stopped me after nearly half an hour, each minute an eternity counted meticulously in my head. With a tap on my shoulder, I outstretched my arms, refusing to let them force me. A hand crept under my leather jacket, peeling it away like a layer of protection stripped from my soul. Then went the shirt underneath. Each piece of clothing removed exposed me further to the biting winter air, its icy fingers clawing at my skin, leaving me shivering and defenseless.
The gasps of the crowd echoed in my ears, a cruel chorus of spectators drinking in my humiliation. I could feel their eyes boring into me, dissecting every inch of my exposed flesh, eating away at any remaining shred of dignity. How goddamn humiliating.
This was beyond mere punishment; it was a spectacle of degradation. Tears welled up, but I blinked them back, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. The humiliation was a knife twisting in my gut, cutting deeper with each breath of icy air. In that moment, I was not just a man being stripped of his clothes, but a soul being laid bare before an unforgiving world.
"Up the stairs," a voice commanded, strong and unyielding. Then, with a hint of humor, he mocked, "Watch your step." It was a game to him—sick, twisted entertainment.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then carefully put my leg forward, finding the stairs, and beginning to climb. Each step echoed like a drumbeat in my chest, pounding harder with every inch closer to the top. A moment closer to the end, stretching out like an eternity until I finally reached the summit.
They guided me toward the center, then ripped the woolen cloth from my head. Sunlight exploded into my eyes, blinding me with its harsh brilliance. I blinked rapidly, tears streaming down my cheeks as I tried to adjust to everything.
A crowd, much larger than I had first thought, stood in anticipation, watching hungrily. I knew many were not happy to see me up here, but that didn't matter. They all looked like sharks, eager to witness my fiery demise.
I glanced around, scanning for familiar faces. There they were, right at the front—Odessa and Dunstan. Avelina and Gunnar. Hell, even Aldric had managed to make it. And away from everyone, alone, akin to his life, stood King Chlodovech. The mass manipulator himself, watching with cold, calculating eyes.
The tears still streamed, but in that moment, I forced them back, letting the winter wind dry them. I stood up straight, staring forward almost blankly. There weren't many tears left regardless.44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8MPL8KZxoG
This was my moment, my last stand. The humiliation, the fear, all of it melted into a cold, resolute anger.
A large man in clunky armor marched forward from the stairs, a bottle of oil in one hand, flint and steel in the other. I swallowed hard as he stopped abruptly in front of me, blocking most of the crowd from my view.
I didn't look into his eyes, instead continued to glare forward, but I could feel the malice emanating from him, a chilling absence of empathy. "Alaric Faust," he finally spoke, his voice booming across the city center, reverberating off the walls, "Defier of King Chlodovech." The words hit me like a blow, and I swallowed again, trying not to break, but how could anyone truly refrain in such a moment? "Sinner of Llythyrra," he continued, each word a dagger. "You are hereby condemned to death by fire. To cleanse this world of your sins and of your curse." The executioner let the silence sink in, each moment stretching into an eternity. After ten excruciating seconds, he spoke again, "Speak your last words."
I hesitated, something caught in my throat. But then, a surge of confidence arose within me—rebelliousness, disdain. Disdain for the world, for Chlodovech, for everything. For the cruelty that plagued the land. For those who sought power and money over the preservation of good. The fire of defiance burned in my chest, and with a loud, strong voice, I let my rebellion be known.
"Down. With. Chlodovech." The crowd erupted into a fury of murmurs. Some shouted angrily, while the majority remained eerily quiet. Fear hung in the air like a thick fog. No one dared to speak out against Chlodovech, knowing they would meet the same fate as mine, "Down with the Faust's and all the other elites. Down with Heladon and any of you who agree with its politics." I took a deep, finally clear, "Down... with Llythyrra."
The executioner stepped aside, his movements deliberate and cruel. He popped open the bottle of oil, the cork hitting the ground with three heavy thuds. My eyes, heavy with the weight of inevitability, finally moved. I met Chlodovech's gaze, who seethed at the mouth, eyes burning with hatred. There was no satisfaction in his expression, no resolution. I would die, and he would still lose the war, and I wouldn't give him any fulfillment with my terror.
I glanced around once again, searching for the faces that mattered. Odessa and Dunstan. My only true friends. The only ones who made me feel valued in this cruel, merciless world. Leaving them behind remained my sole regret, a pang of sorrow that cut deeper than any blade.
As for the rest—the Fausts, the king, and everyone like them—they could burn with me in a long painful demise. Their downfall fueling every feeling within.
With a deliberate raise of his hand and a cruel twist of his wrist, the executioner began pouring the oil onto me. It splattered first, then flowed like a relentless river, bathing my bare, naked skin in its griminess.
The oil slathered my face, smothering my nostrils and mouth, cutting off my breath. It seeped into every crevice, clinging to my skin like a suffocating shroud. I struggled, gasping, feeling the thick liquid invade my lungs with every desperate attempt to inhale. He did not pull away, the oil cascading until the bottle was finally emptied. The sensation overwhelming, a vile, cold weight pressing down on me. I spat forward, desperate to clear my mouth, and gasped for breath. The air, when it finally reached my lungs, felt thin and inadequate.
The executioner brought a cloth to my eyes. Wiping away just enough liquid to clear my vision, but the lingering sting remained. My vision swam, blurring between the harsh sunlight and oily film.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the flint and steel to my feet. I tightly shut my eyes, before gazing upwards at the sky. Beautiful. Peaceful. At least I wouldn't have to live in this world any longer. Free from the tyranny of monarchs and abuse of the unrelated.
As he struck them together, each hit echoed in my ears. A sensation surged within my muscles. I looked down at them, and as the fire flickered to life, it quickly spread across my body, burning my very skin in agonizing pain. Everything flashed before my eyes, a myth as old as time. Memories washed over me like a flood. Years of turmoil at the Fausts' estate, raising Irmina, growing up with Odessa and Dunstan. Faces and places blurred together in a tapestry of my past. None of that mattered now, all wasted, all thrown away because a child with power couldn't control himself.
The searing pain grew unbearable, every inch of my flesh screamed in torment. The flames licked at my skin, a relentless, consuming force. I flung my arms forward in a desperate attempt to fend off the inferno, and suddenly, a light appeared. One so brilliant that it engulfed everything. It blinded me, louder than anything I had ever experienced, like an impossible explosion. Did I do that? How the hell did I do that?
The sensation of burning ceased, and so did everything else. The world around me now suspended in silence. For at least a few minutes, nothing existed but the light. Time seemed to stretch and bend, seconds feeling like hours.
Slowly, it all began to subside. The crowd lay knocked over and dazed. The fire no longer burned on my body but around me on the platform, as if I had pushed it away.
"Fuck..." I cursed aloud, watching the destruction I had unleashed. The flames did not stop around me, but roared outward, leaping from the platform to the surrounding buildings and crowd. Panic set in instantly. People flailed and screamed as the fire latched onto their clothes, their hair, their skin. The acrid stench of burning flesh filling the air, causing my stomach to churn. Soldiers rushed toward me, covering their faces. I stood frozen; my mind unable to process the carnage I had caused.
The inferno spread with terrifying speed, a hungry beast devouring everything in its path. Wooden beams below me groaned and cracked, struggling against the relentless assault of the flames. The platform's supports splintered and gave way under the heat. Soldiers who stepped onto the structure screamed as it collapsed, sending them tumbling into the blazing wreckage.
I fell with them, hitting the ground with a bone-jarring thud. The impact drove the breath from my lungs, leaving me gasping. Dizzy and disoriented, I forced myself to focus. Around me, the sight was nightmarish: bodies charred beyond recognition, reduced to blackened husks in the relentless blaze. The overwhelming smell of burnt flesh and smolder seared my nostrils.
I grasped a protruding piece of wood, using it to haul myself upright, narrowly avoiding the jagged debris. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos surrounding me. Despite the heat, adrenaline coursed through my veins and pushed me to move.
Through the thick smoke, I saw people stumbling, their clothes and hair ablaze. Their screams echoed in my ears, a symphony of agony. One soldier tore off his helmet, his face blistered and red, only to collapse as the flames overtook him.
Desperation emerged within. I couldn't let them capture me, not after what I had done. I stumbled forward, weaving through the burning wreckage, driven by a primal instinct to survive. The fire roared louder than anything I had ever heard, but I kept moving.
Even through the smoke and flames, I could recognize Chlodovech's bellowing commands. His orders were clear, and his men responded, struggling to contain the pandemonium.
I caught onto another voice, one I was keen to follow. "Alaric!" Odessa's shout pierced through the destruction. Her voice became my beacon.
I pushed through the panicked crowd, dodging the paths of billowing fire that snaked across the ground. People stumbled and fell around me, their faces contorted in fear and pain. Others not touched rushed to escape. I forced my way through, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the smoke burning my throat
"Alaric!" Odessa's voice grew louder, closer. She stood beside Dunstan, both of them wide-eyed and frantic, their faces illuminated by the hellish glow of the fire.
I let out a sharp breath, almost knocking into them. "We have to get out--" I stammered, glancing over their shoulders. Chlodovech was now visible, his eyes locked onto me. "Now."
"You killed them." Dunstan grabbed me, his grip tight and trembling. "What did you do, Alaric?" His eyes met mine, filled with fear. Fear of me?
Odessa grabbed his arm. "We'll talk about it later," she said sharply, shooting him a look. Without further hesitation, she pulled him along.
We maneuvered through the chaos with careful steps, the devastation all around us. The fire had turned the city center into a fiery nightmare, consuming everything in its path. It didn't take long to find our way out, but every second felt like an eternity.
Finally, we reached the edge of the inferno, sweating profusely. The fire, though it hadn't gone far, and now began to stop, left terrible destruction in its wake. It spread as if it were alive. How the hell could it have done that? Burn so aggressively, move so fast and accurately? Like someone gave it a blood hungry consciousness.
The cold air hit the front of us refreshingly, our backs still warmed by the now dying flames. I stumbled onto the ground, not able to keep my footing. Dizzy, tired, emotionally drained.
Whatever just happened, that wasn't me. It couldn't have been. The death, the agony, and yet the fire only burned the innocent, not Chlodovech. Why did I want them to? Does that make me as bad as him?
With a push of my hand, I rolled onto my back, eyes still shut, muscles aching. I tried to swallow, but my throat felt parched, and dizziness overwhelmed me. If not for the pain, I might have passed out.
The world around me faded—the smells, the sounds, the sensations. I felt myself slipping away.
No. I wouldn't allow that. Summoning all my strength, I sat up weakly, opening my eyes and... the city, the fire, Odessa and Dunstan—they were all gone. I found myself in a field within a forest, eerily quiet. I realized I hadn't just tuned everything out—I was somewhere completely different.
"Come on..." I choked, collapsing back to the ground. "It's not fair..." I cried out, but no tears came. I was done with everything. Being pushed around, enduring one ordeal after another. I was almost burned alive, and now this? Had someone brought me here?
"Fuck you," I muttered, my voice raw and bitter. I glared at the dark blue sky, the swirling clouds above me. "Fuck... you!" The scream erupted from deep within me, fragile yet fierce, each word tearing at my already weakened lungs, still tender from the smoke. My voice echoed through the clearing and the woods, bouncing off the trees and returning to me.
A gust of wind made me shiver. It was almost funny, in a twisted way—the duality of it all. Hot now cold. Chaotic now calm. God... what a messed-up world.
With a long, deep breath, I held the oxygen. Cool. Crisp. It felt nice, despite the stinging. Sitting up one more time, letting the air out slowly, I studied my surroundings more carefully this time. The trees were the same kind as near Heladon, but more sparsely packed, and snow hadn't fallen yet. Climbing to my feet, I turned around, audibly surprised at what was there.
A village. Modest in size, with humble buildings. All of it now in ruins, what looked as if for many, many years. In the distance, I noticed farmland. Now clearly abandoned, but it stretched on for miles. This was the edge of the forest, not just a clearing, and this place... it felt so familiar.
My eyes roamed over the dilapidated structures, their roofs caved in, walls crumbling. Weeds and vegetation had reclaimed the streets, growing in the wake of dirt paths. Broken windows gaped like hollow eyes, staring out at the overgrown fields. The silence was deafening, the stillness oppressive, as if time itself had forgotten this place.
"Familiar?" someone spoke, and I instinctively spun around, weary yet startled. A tall figure stood before me, clad in sleek, black armor that curved around him, made from some strange material. He held a helmet under his arm, his face illuminated by the sunlight. Short black hair framed his youthful face, a wild beard growing despite his apparent age—he couldn't have been more than ten winters older than me.
His eyes glanced down at my body. I had almost forgotten my nakedness. Quickly, I covered myself with a hand, stifling a sad laugh. "...Yeah..." I spoke slowly, the events of the city still replaying in my mind. If Odessa and Dunstan didn't make it out... dammit.
"Ikevine," he said abruptly, before nodding at his other hand, where my clothes were grasped. The bundle flew through the air, landing on the ground. I slid them to me with my foot, quickly pulling on the pants and shirt. My leather coat provided warmth to the skin not burnt.
"How?" I asked after dressing, wrapping an arm around myself for some semblance of comfort.
A plume of white air escaped Ikevine's lips as he exhaled. "This place..." His gaze wandered around the surroundings, ignoring my confusion about the clothes. "So much history." Our eyes met. "A shame what happened to it." With deliberate steps, he began walking, fingers brushing against the splintered wood of old buildings. "Funny how a place can rot so quickly."
Hesitant, but with no other options, I followed at a cautious distance. "What happened here?" This village, whatever it used to be, infatuated me, as if I had been here before. "The kingdom? I know that Chlodovech—he..." I stopped, trying to remember my history, "Cut off towns too close to the border."
"Not quite," Ikevine replied bitterly, rounding a corner. His eyes locked onto a certain sight. Following along, my gaze fell upon it.
There, in the town center, lay a macabre display—bodies, now reduced to skeletons and cadavers, piled atop each other in a grotesque mound. Dozens of them, adults and children. At the very top, the tiny form of a small child, perhaps a baby. The skin had long since decayed, but tufts of hair still clung to the skull, and remnants of old clothing hung in tattered shreds.
"Then who?" I demanded.
Ikevine's gaze shifted slowly to the ground, then back to me. "You did." The words hung in the air, incomprehensible. Before I could react or defend myself, he took a large step, closing the distance between us until he stood mere inches away. "It wasn't the kingdom, nor Chlodovech. A shame you blame them." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Men... bloody fucking sorcerers... they came for you..." His hand tightened into a fist, one he lightly pushed into my chest. "It's your fault... and yet..." With a deep breath, the man turned away, his eyes again falling on the pile of bones.
"He's here, you old shit!" Ikevine suddenly called out, his voice echoing through the deserted village, "Your prized little child!" His words were filled with venom, and the sheer madness in his eyes told me he had to be out of his mind.
As I backed away, the madman threw a finger in my direction, "Don't you move."
"Ugh..." I grunted, halting in my tracks.
The universe kept throwing everything right the fuck at me, and I was beginning to snap. My head pounded, thoughts swirling in a chaotic frenzy. My patience, already frayed, teetered on the edge of breaking.
Still... I waited.
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡauPf0Vt9JH
