Chapter 94: The “Innocent” Person Bound by Sin Fire (Part 2)
The third floor of the castle was empty as a squirrel’s pockets. Every room had been raided clean, leaving nothing behind except a pile of books and some shabby furniture. No valuable items, not a crumb of food, and definitely no heretics in sight.
Isaac and I were halfway through our search when the knights from downstairs came charging up.
“Lord Isaac, we’ve found a few mice that slipped through the cracks.”
“Are they heretics?”
Isaac asked, and the knight shook his head with a face full of bemusement. “Just a bunch of cowardly wimps who scuttled into the inner fortress when they saw us coming. According to them, they’re the descendants of the original nobility, the Alanst family. Their clothes look fancy, but once we caught them, they were all meek and didn’t dare to resist. We can’t confirm if they’re heretics yet, but I’ve got them all rounded up in the square.”
“Most of the rooms on the first and second floors have been ransacked. The insides are strewn with straw mats, a complete mess, and the stench? Good grief! It’s like a pigsty! Looks like the castle has been occupied for quite a while, with those heretics and outsiders making themselves at home,” Isaac grumbled.
“Hmm.”
The bald-headed knight nodded, exchanged a few more words with his men, and assigned them the remaining rooms on the third floor, as well as the fourth and fifth floors, before heading downstairs with me.
Back in the main hall, it had turned into a circus! Knights were parading some young fellow towards the exit, and he looked to be in his early twenties, shouting at the top of his lungs, “I am a descendant of the Alanst family! My father sacrificed himself to fight the heretics! He’s a hero of the Republic! You can’t treat me like this! You can’t!”
The knight escorting him scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Your father has already perished, and all you could do was hide in your room like a turtle?”
“What was I supposed to do?! I can’t even wield a sword properly! What do you want me to do? Jump into the abyss too—”
The young man’s voice quivered; it was a real tearjerker moment.
I watched as they dragged him outside, glancing at Captain Gray once again, gripping my blade, which was smeared with dark red, sticky bl**d—yup, that was from a soldier I had knocked off. One clean shot to the dome—it was a piece of cake.
Those folks called him a captain; he was supposed to be one of the brave guardians here.
Ah, what a delightful little conundrum this was.
I walked over to the inner fortress’s grand door, held the blade out into the pelting rain, and soon, the downpour washed away the clotted red goo. I folded the gigantic scythe back up and stashed it safely in my bag.
That’s when Isaac came over, chatting with someone before joining me.
“Hey, little guy, you seem…”
He was about to say something else when he noticed my gloomy demeanor and scratched his head, asking nervously, “What’s up? Not feeling great?”
I shot him a glance but didn’t reply, pulling my hood up and stepping out into the rain, making my way along the stone path towards the square. I gazed at the rows of people kneeling in the rain, surrounded by a jumbled mess of corpses, bl**d, and guts.
The mounted knights dashed through the puddles, shouting orders, and one of them dragged a middle-aged man, who looked surprisingly decent considering the situation, towards Safiros for questioning.
“…We’re not heretics! I’m just a servant of this castle! I’ve served my master diligently for over twenty years… About half a month ago, those demons showed up with their followers, and my master and the guards bravely resisted but ended up as mincemeat…”
“They invaded the city, stealing people and food, leaving just scraps… I thought about resisting, but what power do I have? I was forced to drink their bl**d, to ally with the demons… I had no choice… I just want to live… Please…”
The middle-aged servant wailed, continually bowing to Safiros.
The brooding captain of knights waved his hand, and the man was pulled away. Not long after, another ragged, skin-and-bones guy was shoved out of the crowd and fell to his knees before Safiros.
“Esteemed, honored knight… I—I’m from York Town…”
The man trembled as he spoke, fear swallowing his words like a giant sponge.
“I’m just a tenant farmer, working hard for the lord… But then the flood came, drowning our fields in rain… I fled with my family, but we ran out of food… My mother, my wife, and my two kids—all starved to d*ath… I’m the last one left…”
“I didn’t know they were demons! They gave me food… They said there was plenty more in the Silent Fortress… But when we got here, the lord wouldn’t open the gates, and we fought… I never wanted anything but to eat…”
The pitiful man stood in the rain, his humble words swallowed by the downpour, looking like a shrimp curled up on the ground. The sight began to blur for me.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me.
Without turning around, I already knew who it was.
“Isaac.”
I called softly, feeling the giant’s presence next to me, tilting his head as he pondered the question he had been wanting to ask.
“They—what crime have they committed?”
I actually understood where he was coming from.
After all, to the church, those people had already embraced the Sin Fire, becoming part of the Gate of Truth, fighting for the devil. Just like Angel had repeatedly warned me not to expose my own infernal powers, once you have the strength of a demon, there’s no going back—it’s like the very foundation of faith has turned against you.
Moreover, they had assisted the Gate of Truth in launching attacks against us.
These folks were already the henchmen of evil, and to hope for their release by claiming they were innocent? What a pipe dream.
But…
I found myself thinking—what if I were one of them? Just an ordinary person living here for generations. No power, no strength, starving to d*ath in this great flood… What if someone offered me a bite to eat?
What if refusing meant certain d*ath?
Just a bunch of ordinary folks.
If the kn*fe was at your throat, you’d kneel.
Whether it was facing the Gate of Truth before, or now facing the knights of the church, there’s no doubt that these people would make the same choice—give up their fight and kneel.
So…
Is that a crime?
I didn’t know, so I tossed the question to Isaac, hoping he might say something to calm my restless thoughts, to lighten the burden of guilt residing in my heart…
I turned to look at him.
The hulking man pondered for a moment before speaking.
“Do you know the Jester?”
He didn’t directly answer my question but flipped it around on me.
I was confused for a second, shaking my head lightly.
He gazed at the square and continued, “I know him quite well.”
“More than twenty years ago, the church’s higher-ups deemed the Jester a significant threat, even more dangerous than the Great Demon. It wasn’t just about his power; it stemmed from his dark heart… The Jester is regarded as the embodiment of all ‘malice’ in the world—someone once said that about him.”
“That inhuman villain specializes in unleashing the evil lurking within human nature. He enjoys ripping apart the facades that cloak human hearts, turning the innocent, the kind, and the naïve into villains. The Jester is not just passionate about this but has an almost perverse obsession with it.”
“Only those who follow him, those he deems beyond redemption, can survive his distorted, warped hands… Greed, desire, the terror that comes with teetering on the edge of life and d*ath. Regardless of the reasons, whenever the Jester shows up, you’re bound to see the scene playing out before you now—the appearance of these ‘seemingly innocent’ people is his signature style, trust me, I know it all too well…”
“They were not sinners to begin with; it was the Jester who turned them into sinners… I can guess what those who survived have been up to in the Silent Fortress.”
“…What?”
I pressed for more, but Isaac merely shook his head, falling silent.
“Let go of me—”
Suddenly, a voice cut through the crowd, calling out.
I looked up and saw that same young man, the one they dragged from the inner fortress, being escorted by two knights toward Safiros. The knights insisted he kneel, but he resisted fiercely, struggling against them. “Let go of me! My father is Lord Alanster! He’s dead now, and I’m the master of this castle! I’m a noble! You can’t treat me like this—”
