Chapter 105: The Clash of Iron Bones and the Burning of bl**d (Part 4)
“sc*m…”
I bit my teeth hard.
At this moment, my emotions could hardly be described as anger.
The shouts around me were a chaotic mess, mixed with flashes of blades amidst the cold wind. The clash of flames and golden light blurred my vision as if the entire world had shrunk down to the image of the figure charging at me with a kn*fe.
I caught a glimpse of that figure’s hideous grin, and suddenly, my mind flashed back to the serene scene of Silent Fortress shimmering under the sunlight, and then to Lady Alanster’s beautiful face.
She stood atop the castle walls, gazing at the beautiful and fertile plains below, a lovely girl around my age dancing beside her in the breeze, her red dress fluttering, harmonious melodies drifting through the air, the moving lyrics ringing clear in my ears.
[Flags flying, blue and white~ The grass glistening with morning dew…]
As she sang the song, she turned her head towards me with a smile like a blooming flower.
[Hil, do you see this scenery?]
She would never say such words to me again.
“Yaaaaaaah—”
Emotions surged like a relentless river, crashing forth from my heart, flooding my entire being. The only outlet was a scream, a tremendous energy exploded from my grip on the “Dragon Claw” as it cleaved towards the figure ahead.
Bang bang bang bang bang!!!
The picturesque scene and the beautiful lady distorted and shattered before my eyes, until they were completely annihilated. The image I cherished morphed into a flurry of frost and snow, swept away by the swing of my short sword, while the fierce cold winds howled through the woods, echoing with the haunting cries and piercing screams from that night in the castle. The heretic who had been laughing a moment ago suddenly vanished, “whoosh” into the sky.
“sc*m!!!”
Bang—
Within a radius of several dozen meters ahead, sheets of ice and frost still lingered, cold air spreading outwards. The silhouettes of combatants, whether heretics or knights, were gripped by fear, their movements sluggish. Some wobbled on unsteady feet, frost coating their armor and clothing.
Though I had pulled back my attack range at the crucial moment, the knights were hardly harmed, but clearly, I couldn’t stay here for long. I faintly heard Safiros shouting: “The enemy is burnt to ashes! Tear them apart with me—”
That figure I sent flying was now dozens of meters in the air, almost disappearing from sight.
In the next moment, sharp ice pillars erupted from beneath me, lifting me higher into the air with the howling gusts, closing in on the struggling and now plummeting heretic, Weithermill.
Half of the man’s body was nearly encased in ice, a fierce infernal fire erupted from his right chest, instantly enveloping him, the frost visibly melting in the growing heat. He flailed mid-air, frantic, his long sword long forgotten, and upon spotting me closing in, he quickly raised his still-functioning right arm, the scarlet flames exploding forth from his palm.
He tried to fight back…
He actually thought he could fight back?!
Cold frost mist swelled again from my body, crashing down upon the man engulfed in infernal flames, the fierce red fire flickering in the hurricane-like wind, soon snuffed out within a second.
Weithermill’s hair and eyebrows were thickly coated in frost, his face contorted into a grotesque mask of horror, unable to utter a sound as his frozen body began to drop, speeding up—
Bang!
He smashed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt, his body shattering like fragile glass, “crack” as his arms and right leg disintegrated upon impact, huge cracks spreading from his chest and engulfing his entire form.
The next moment, I landed in front of him.
“Whew—”
It was a deep, long exhalation of cold air.
I looked down at the heretic, observing his wretched form, and after a moment of silence, I found myself chuckling softly.
“You wanted to provoke me.”
He wasn’t dead yet.
I certainly couldn’t let him d*e so easily.
His eyes still flickered with life, locked onto me, the pale blue pupils trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. Flickering flames reignited within him, gradually melting away the frost, restoring his frozen expression, the cracks visibly healing.
“You’ve succeeded.”
“So, my wrath. Are you ready?”
I sheathed my short sword back at my waist, waiting, watching him slowly recover, observing his lips twitching as he uttered meaningless sounds like “uh…ah…” — he seemed to want to say something to me.
Alright…
I’ll give you a chance to speak.
I stared into his trembling eyes, slowly, lazily, I closed my own.
Then I opened them.
“Oblivion.”
Buzz—
As the scene shimmered, suddenly everything turned white.
The next moment, the lush green forest transformed into shadowy stone walls lit by flickering flames, countless darkened cages intermittently visible in the light, shapes curled up within them, sharp laughter and heartbreakingly sad screams echoed in the cramped stone chamber, the air reeking of dampness and decay.
This was a scene deeply etched in my heart, haunting me day and night. Even after leaving Silent Fortress, that night had appeared in my dreams countless times. Many times I heard the women’s sharp, sorrowful voices; it became my nightmare— that’s why I could instantly recreate this hellish scene.
I pictured this, imagining the women’s voices, and without doubt, the heretic could hear and see it all.
At this moment, he was trapped in a cage like a dog, shackled and n*ked, curled up into a ball. The man seemed bewildered, staring wide-eyed in terror at the sights around him, and then his gaze caught me—cold, indifferent, outside the cage, and he froze for a moment.
“You…”
He then quickly noticed the shackles on his limbs, realizing his current predicament, and began to struggle within the cage.
“What is this… What have you done to me?!!”
“Let me go—!!”
The man flailed his arms as if trying to unleash the power of infernal fire to escape, only to realize he was utterly powerless. That flame he once wielded so skillfully was no longer burning within him—I pictured him without the power of infernal fire, imagined him like those women he had bullied, an ordinary person with no means to fight back.
He was just an ordinary person now.
“My power… how could this be… how am I here… you… what have you done?!!”
The heretic named Weithermill struggled violently in the dark, damp cage, the metal chains clanging loudly as he frantically pounded against the iron bars, his expression twisted like a demon as he roared in anger, but it was all in vain.
“Ha.”
I looked at him with a cold smile.
“All you can rely on is the power of infernal fire.”
“What?! What are you talking about?! d*mn little girl, what have you done to me—!!”
“You exploited this power. Without a care, doing evil, hurting the innocent. Destroying the sanctity here… Building your joy on their suffering. You revel in their screams, don’t you…”
“d*mn! d*mn it!!”
The man raged helplessly in the cage, the confines so narrow he couldn’t even stand, forced to kneel in humiliation, he furiously pounded against the iron bars, his hands bloodied. As he delivered his final punch, a bone cracked with a light sound, causing him to scream in pain, his bloodshot eyes fixated on me, filled with intense hatred, but behind that hatred lay a fear born of the grotesque and the unknown.
I recognized the sheer terror he felt.
“Are you afraid?” I locked my eyes onto his and spoke each word deliberately, “This is the feeling you relish. The feeling of bullying the weak…”
“When you treat others this way… be prepared, for one day there will be someone with enough power… to treat you the same…”
“Ughhhhh!!!” Weithermill shook the cage like a wild beast, snarling, “I’ll k*ll you! I’ll make you scream just like those women! I’ll make you d*e in the same humiliation as them!!”
“Ha. Who do you think you are?”
I gazed at his crazy face, unable to help but visualize the torments the women had undergone, imagining the ways he had tortured them, then suddenly my hand held a heated branding iron.
“You and they are the same, all weaklings.”
Sizzle sizzle sizzle—
The end of the heated branding iron glowed red, releasing a chilling sound while smoke wafted from the metal. I gripped the handle and extended it into the cage.
“You wouldn’t dare! How dare you!!! Little brat… I’ll rip your body apart… ughhh—”
The burning iron slowly advanced, and Weithermill recoiled further into the cage, spewing vile curses, but that was merely the last scream of despair. The dread written all over his face, his grotesque features twisted, he was now sniveling, unintentionally letting snot run down his face, desperately shrinking back like a mouse cornered by a cat.
The thick hair on his chest curled up as the branding iron drew near, getting closer until it was less than half an inch from his chest, the skin was turning black and bubbling from the heat.
“You’re right.”
The branding iron lingered on his chest for a moment before I finally pulled it back, letting out a relieved sigh as I tossed it aside.
“I am not you. Therefore, I won’t do this.”
I couldn’t bring myself to do such a thing.
Even in the face of such a loathsome sc*m, I didn’t want to take pleasure in torturing him.
Otherwise, what would be the difference between us?
I slowly closed my eyes.
What came to mind were still the scenes of the girl dancing gently under the moonlight and Lady Alanster’s warm smile.
When I opened my eyes again, the dark stone chamber was gone, replaced by the frosty woods from before. The heretic named Weithermill remained curled up in the same posture as in the cage, n*ked before my eyes, trembling lips, his face and eyebrows thickly coated in frost.
“You, you…”
His voice trembled, his eyes almost bulging out, as if witnessing something unbelievable: “You are… Alanster’s…”
In Weithermill’s eyes, that detestable girl, who filled him with reckless thoughts yet also sparked genuine fear, now suddenly transformed.
She bore semblances to the noble mother he’d tormented day and night, strong and unyielding. And like the pitiful creature that had turned into a docile lamb, all she could do was spread her legs, no longer capable of exciting him.
The girl’s appearance twisted beyond his comprehension, morphing rapidly in a maddening manner, sometimes resembling the lady, sometimes the daughter, then appearing as a grotesque amalgamation of both. She stood before him, as ghostly as could be, with only her cold, unchanging eyes staring him down, as though observing a corpse.
Weithermill felt a rush of bl**d to his head, struggling with breath. He remembered the orders he had issued upon leaving—commands that the cowardly noble boy would do anything to survive. Surely, by now, the rebel soldiers stationed in the dungeon would’ve slaughtered every last woman in those cages.
What was going on…
“You… should be dead by now…”
They should have died.
Why…
Weithermill felt his teeth chattering, certain that this wasn’t due to the cold.
The girl, the cellar, the cage… and the things that were long dead. Even though he was back in the woods, he could still hear the whispers of the deceased, their piercing laughter and screams reverberating in his mind like a curse that wouldn’t fade away.
All these unfathomable occurrences transcended Weithermill’s understanding. He fixated on the girl’s ever-changing face, gradually convinced that this was revenge from those who had perished.
“Don’t come near…”
The man stammered weakly, voicing soft, trembling words.
“You… are dead… you’re all dead…”
He had never felt like this before.
In the face of such nonsensical, truly demonic power, the infernal fire he prided himself on was utterly useless. He had become a lamb to be slaughtered, devoid of any capacity to resist, just like those weaklings he had tormented.
He had never felt so lost, terrified, and powerless as he did today.
This was the power of evil spirits…
They had come for me.
“Don’t come near…”
It turned out, there really were evil spirits in this world…
They wanted me dead.
“Don’t come near!!”
Where would they take me after I was dead…
Surely not to the embrace of the God of Truth.
“Get away—!!!”
The man flailed in panic, swinging his remaining left arm wildly, his face contorted with rage yet filled with unbearable anxiety. Desperately trying to stand, he utterly failed, only able to scream hoarsely: “Ahhhhh—”
As if that could scare away the evil spirits.
“Such an ugly sight.”
I crouched before him, my icy gaze bearing a hint of pity, as I looked at the man’s face, pale as paper from the cold and fear.
“Even with the power of infernal fire, you remain weak and pitiful, even less than the women you tormented.”
That was enough.
If I dragged this out any longer, Safiros and the others would likely be coming soon.
I shut my eyes again, dispelling the oblivion.
The cold wind howled past, snowflakes slowly drifting through the air. emerging from the illusion, I stayed in the same position, the scarlet infernal fire blazing from the man below, gradually melting the covering frost.
He was still alive, untouched by the illusion, yet his bloodshot eyes now stared blankly at the sky, murmuring something I couldn’t decipher nor wanted to hear.
“You are the first.”
Bang bang bang bang—
Countless tiny, sharp ice spikes erupted from the muddy ground before me, impaling the heretic’s broken body, leaving it riddled with holes, while burning bl**d flowed everywhere before being frozen and extinguished. The man convulsed, and moments later became a bizarre ice sculpture of a human body, no longer moving.
