In Border Town, under the cold and indifferent gaze of the greyish-white cross at the church, the small square was abuzz with commotion. A throng of people filled the square—mostly elderly, stout women with anxious faces, accompanied by children who mirrored their confusion and uncertainty.
This scene unfolded as a direct result of the latest royal decree. The men had been conscripted to the battlefield to fend off the invading ghouls, while younger, able-bodied women and boys were evacuated to the kingdom’s center—the safest refuge.
But these elderly women, powerless and deemed irrelevant by the kingdom, were left behind. If the ghouls breached the city gates, the city guards had been ordered to kill them first to prevent their bodies from being turned into demonic minions.
Fear, despair, confusion, and bitterness marked the faces of these women. Huddled together, they resembled a panicked herd, nervously rubbing shoulders, pushing, and lashing out at one another. The air was thick with curses, prayers, and sobs—a cacophony of despair that hinted at the chaos to come.
Suddenly, a voice rang out, “The Cardinal is coming! The Cardinal is here!”
The crowd fell into a hushed silence as a path opened in their midst. A red-cloaked cardinal stepped forward, commanding attention.
Behind him, a white-robed priest raised his voice excitedly, “People, we have captured the demons! The darkness is fading, and the holy light will soon shine upon the world!”
“Oh, heavens...”
Gasps filled the square as three large crosses were pushed forward from behind the priest. Nailed to each cross by gleaming silver spikes were three women—ethereally beautiful, yet unmistakably demonic. Their hair and eyes were black as pitch, and their sharp fangs glistened ominously. Though their bodies were battered and barely clinging to life, an occasional glance from them sent a chill down the crowd’s spine.
“It was these wicked witches! They summoned the ghouls and brought about so much death!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“Evil fiends!” An elderly woman, trembling with fury, stooped to pick up a stone and hurled it at the lead witch.
The crowd’s gaze followed the stone as it struck the woman, then a morbid silence fell—only to be broken by the witch’s eerie, chilling laughter.
“Stone them to death! Blasphemers! Murderers! Filthy creatures who’ve forsaken their souls...”
“Kill them!”
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The fear-fueled rage of the crowd erupted. Their eyes glinted with hatred as they grabbed stones, dirt, and sticks, flinging them at the witches and spitting at their feet.
In moments, the witches were covered in filth, blood streaming down their heads.
Sophia and Cindrella laughed louder, their voices slithering like venomous serpents writhing through a swamp, while Talia remained silent, her head bowed. Before meeting Carlo, she had endured a similar torment—albeit from fewer hands.
The cardinal stood by, unmoved, making no attempt to quell the crowd’s wrath. A cruel smile teased the corners of his lips, though his face remained composed.
But then, his expression shifted. A look of reverence overtook his features, and he stepped slightly to the side, his lips moving as if offering a report to someone unseen.
“The ghouls outside the city have lost the demons’ control and no longer pose a significant threat. Our soldiers are slaughtering them. All our priests are stationed at the designated locations, awaiting the demon’s arrival...”
At some point, two figures clad in black robes had appeared beside the cardinal, and judging by his deferential manner, they clearly outranked him.
One of the black-robed figures gave a slight nod in acknowledgment of the report. The other, after a moment, spoke.
“Peter, have you considered that should the demon reveal itself, its power may be far beyond our means? Barbed wire can ensnare a wolf, but it cannot contain a beast...”
The voice was that of a woman, low and hoarse, with a subtle undertone of unease.
Peter, the black-robed figure, fell silent, clearly contemplating the gravity of the situation. “We are prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice…”
“The Holy Light will not forsake us,” he added, letting out a deep, resigned sigh.
Meanwhile, the square remained a maelstrom of curses, spittle, and thrown objects, as the crowd, driven by fear and desperation, vented their wrath.
Suddenly, the laughter from the witches ceased. Bloodied and bound, they lifted their heads to the sky, their eyes wild with manic fervor.
A vast shadow slowly darkened the square, blotting out the sunlight and casting a palpable weight over the scene.
The sharp scent of sulfur filled the air. One by one, the crowd stilled, as if time itself had paused. Their hands froze in mid-action, stones and sticks falling from their grips.
“It’s here!” one of the black-robed figures intoned, their voice eerily calm.
The cardinal stiffened, clutching his Bible tightly to his chest as he muttered hurried prayers.
The stench of sulfur grew heavier, now mingled with the acrid smell of burning flesh. Fear rippled through the crowd as they glanced upward at the swiftly moving shadow overhead, unsure where to flee.
Then, the shadow descended.
A colossal, nightmarish figure, engulfed in crimson flames, appeared before them. With horns like those of a ram, wings akin to a bat’s, and a massive tail that lashed the air, it was the very embodiment of the demon from scripture.
Terrified screams echoed across the square as panic erupted. The crowd scattered in every direction, while black-robed priests hidden among them stepped forth, their identities suddenly revealed.
“Master!” Sophia’s anguished cry pierced the chaos. She struggled against her restraints, causing the cross to sway precariously. Blood oozed from the silver spikes that held her hands and feet, yet she seemed oblivious to the pain.
Carlo cast a brief glance at her before focusing on the two black-robed figures standing by the cardinal.
From these figures, he sensed an aura far more vile and corrupt than anything he had encountered thus far. No doubt, they were the reason Sophia and the others had been captured.