Chapter 57: I'm the One Who Rings Death’s Bell, Part 11

They finally arrived; there was little time left before the sun rose.

The fateful town of Wormwood.

Christina recalled the verse from the Bible that Sam had recited on the way to that small vacation home. A terrible prophecy stained in scarlet. Only time would tell how true it would become. No matter how terribly selfish it was, Christina didn’t care if many men would die. Her world had always been small, and now it had become even smaller, to the point that only three people could fit in it.

As long as her small world survived, she could accept almost any outcome.

It wasn’t as if she had never felt any affection for any other family member, for the dozens of people who had died violently at Sam’s hands, or that she lacked happy memories with them. Even her father was part of some of those memories.

But she had accepted the reality that Sam had acted in self-defense, that there had truly been no other way.

Even if it was to keep her sanity.

Now, the small world that allowed her to remain sane was at stake once again. So little time had passed since that horrible nightmare, and everything was on the brink once more. It was as if the world was conspiring to destroy her and her family.

Of course, the truth was far more terrifying.

It wasn’t the world doing it, but Satan.

The monster that had plunged humanity into darkness and misery for generations before being defeated and caged. They weren’t marching to confront him, but still, her heart raced. Christina took a deep breath and licked her lips. She was afraid. She was so afraid.

But she couldn’t let fear stop her.

Finally, they dismounted, she and all the cavalry.

They entered Wormwood.

“Damn, it looks like a ghost town,” someone muttered, barely audible. Christina only heard it because she was close to them. In any case, that was the thought that must have been crossing everyone’s mind.

There was nothing.

No people, no lights.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Not even blood, traces of a massacre. It was as if one day all the people in the town had simply disappeared.

Dragged by the devil himself into the depths of hell.

Christina shuddered.

No, just one of his lackeys in any case. The devil remained in the cage, where he should be.

They moved closer, following the guards behind. None of them bothered to order them to stay back. Perhaps because the sinister atmosphere sealed their throats. If it were them, they certainly wouldn’t reject any kind of help. Even those deemed useless could serve as another body for the enemy to get through to reach them.

They were behind in the formation, but that didn’t mean they would be the last to fall.

In this dark and dead city, the attack could come at any moment and from any direction.

Especially because they had no idea.

They had been told just enough. They wouldn’t have believed it in the first place, so she didn’t feel guilty about the fact that they had no idea what they were getting into.

Christina clenched her fists, moving through the darkness. They didn’t have to win the fight. Just give her the time and the opportunity to rescue her brother, nothing more.

She could accept the sacrifice and the blood on her hands for the sake of that outcome.

The first of the sacrifices was very sudden and shocking.

One of the men in the middle of the formation fell off his horse without making a sound, without any apparent explanation.

And just like that, his head exploded.

Obviously, it wasn’t a gunshot. They would have heard it or at least smelled the gunpowder, because there were ways to suppress or hide the sound, but not that smell.

It was a type of magic of unknown origin.

Where had the attack come from? They couldn’t even answer such a simple question in the first place, nor could they take the most crucial step with confidence—taking cover.

But they took cover, both of them, just like the guards, wherever they could, driven by the fear of dying.

In an instant. Without even realizing what had happened.

Without having the chance to see Sam’s face one more time.

"Stay calm. We’ve been trained for this.”

No, you haven’t, thought Christina. And soon, you poor bastards, you’ll find out. Because of her, but she didn’t feel a shred of guilt. Maybe that said something about her, but she didn’t give a damn.

First of all, her head could be the next on the chopping block.

She couldn’t think about anything else.

“Calm down, I said! We need to find the direction of the attack. The enemy might have already moved, changing location, but at least that will give us an area to work with. At least that way, we’ll know what we’re up against, damn it!”

War had just crushed a man’s life from a distance, like he was a damn insect. She could always have done that during the fight—if you could even call it that—at the vacation house. She could always have done that; she never needed to get close. Realizing this made her blood run cold.

She was the Horsewoman of War and Conquest, spreading nothing but death and chaos wherever she went. So it was to be expected that she would be indescribably superior to ordinary mortals.

But still, it was terrifying to feel like an animal writhing in the hand of a superior being.

——

Sam heard the sound of horses' hooves.

He heard a loud, fleshy noise, probably gory as hell.

“Well, looks like the party started without me. Great.”

I'm the One Who Rings Death’s Bell, Part 11: END