The crowd was deathly silent as the heavy iron chains rattled across the floor. Hundreds of people were gathered in Sturasbog’s main square for the execution of a lifetime:

Nobody knew who the person was, but they’d all heard of his feats— many of which were extremely outrageous. If any of what they heard was true, the person being executed today was an impossible madman.

As soon as the black bag on the man’s head was removed, the crowd exploded into loud, angry yells and a hateful jeer.

The sunlight was like shining copper on his brown skin, and his wavy black hair shimmered. His eyes meanwhile, were fierce like a tiger’s— locked straight ahead and unwavering, as he was led to the gallows.

In the guillotine, there was someone with panicked, frantic eyes. Repeatedly he begged to be spared, and that he was sorry. The only person who could heed his pleas— A man beside him wearing a cheaply made aristocrat’s jacket and hat— turned a blind eye to his cries as he read off a scroll.

“Prison number 200791, John Doe, the court has found you guilty of the following crimes: blasphemy and heresy.”

Immediately the crowd erupted into a cacophony of yells and insults. Not a single sound could be distinguished from the overwhelming noise of the crowd.

“You guys are insane to kill a man over this” The brown-skinned boy remarked to nobody in particular, but his voice was drowned out by the crowd. Not a single person reacted to his words.

“Do you have anything to say regarding these charges?” The pompous man asked,ignoring the blaring noise of the crowd.

“I’m innocent! I have already taken the Lord in my heart! There is nobody but the Lord in my heart!” The poor man screamed through tear-soaked sobs— as if somehow yelling louder than the crowd would overturn his fate. Although some symptoms of male pattern baldness had started to show, he seemed quite young. It was a shame to have such a long life cut by such a small crime.

“Very well.” The pompous man nodded to a figure in a black hood, who released a rope.

Immediately, the poor man’s head dropped and fell with a sick thud into a bloody basket. His eyes widened, and his mouth slowly widened… And then stopped. Blood stained the already darkened wood of the base of the guillotine.

“Do you think it hurts?” The boy somberly asked a white-robed old man beside him.

The old man threw a glance at him, a large frown appearing on his wrinkled face, “#@!% ^%$# $%#.”

“Ah sorry, I haven’t learnt your language yet.” the boy said, garnering an even larger frown from the old man.

One step, and another.

And now he came face to face with that macabre death. Never in his life had he imagined he’d be in a situation like this. But life had its surprises. Unknowingly, a smile spread on his face.

“What’re you laughing at dimwit?” The figure in the black hood asked.

“You wouldn’t get it dumbass.” The boy smirked.

Silently, the executioner grumbled, minding his own business.

The boy had stood in front of crowds before— in plays in school and speeches in college. Back then, there would be an odd sense of fear when facing that humongous crowd. But now, oddly enough, he felt nothing.

“Prisoner number 200821, Yaaro Ilay.” The pompous man addressed the boy.

“The court has found you guilty of the following crimes:

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Counterfeiting,

Theft,

Disturbing the peace,

Conspiracy,

Treason,

Arson,

Murder,

Slaughter,

Blasphemy

And Heresy.

Do you have anything to say regarding these charges?”

The pompous man asked, regarding the boy as one does a pile of feces.

“I do.” The boy said, “Do you have a rock?”

The crowd wore looks of confusion as they burst into hushed whispers. A single brow rose on the man’s brow as he wondered what kind of ploy this was.

“No.”

“Then this will do.”

His actions shocked the crowd into silence.

Puffing his mouth, the boy spit— landing a shot of saliva right on the man’s face. With red eyes, he repeatedly wiped his face and yelled indignantly at the laughing boy.

“Kill him! Kill him at once!”

Even as he laughed, his neck was forced into the hole and the lock was clasped. Despite being on the doorstep of death, his eyes were calmly affixed at a white-robed girl with teary eyes.

“Don’t cry, they’ll find out.” He said with a smile.

And ever so slightly, that brilliant smile faded, “When you go back home… Tell my story to my family. Tell them how I lived.”

Tears streaked down the girl’s face as her head hung low. The sunset painted the clouds a brilliant pinkish-magenta and the boy gazed at the sight in awe. He considered himself blessed that this beautiful sight was the last thing he would ever see.

The last thing…

Somewhat absent-mindedly, he wondered about the first thing he ever saw. It was probably his mother. With studying abroad and all, it had been a year since he’d seen her. These days he’d thought about his parents more and more.

Ma… I wonder what you’re doing.

The image of his father came to mind and an early memory replayed itself— a tiny one. His father’s wide, almost childish smile when he gifted something to him. What was it he gifted that made him so happy?

Pa… I wonder how you are…

For their beloved son to suddenly disappear, how much pain were they going through? How much pain was his sister going through? His eyes became wet.

And then the guillotine fell.

The frame rattled as it hurled down.

And then a glint of light appeared in the crowd.

BOOM!

The wooden frame and the guillotine were shattered and the boy looked up, astonished.

Immediately he was grabbed and shoved along as guards barked orders and men in white robes pointed in the direction of the mysterious attack. Desperate screams and yells rang out from the crowd as it tried to scatter in a panic— a cacophony of noises scratched the air.

The boy looked around, craning his neck to see behind him. Just what the hell was happening? What was that mysterious attack?

Abruptly he stopped. At some point, the men leading him had vanished— they might have been swallowed by the crowd. But in a world like this, anything was likely. A mysterious hooded figure appeared from the crowd and faced the boy. He grabbed his shoulders and spoke in hushed tones.

Instantly, a spark came alive in the boy’s eyes. He stretched out the chains and the person grabbed them, shaking them vigorously. Astonishingly, after a few vigorous shakes, a portion of the iron chains had become as soft and limp as rubber, sagging down as a result.

The boy’s face contorted as he stretched the rubbery chains. And then they broke. A short conversation was exchanged and the boy patted the hooded person’s shoulder, nodding resolutely.

Immediately, a massive cloud of white vapor exploded from where they stood and for a moment, the crowd stopped panicking and looked at the massive cloud of thick white mist— parts of it glowing in the sunset.

The sound of heavy steel chains rattled as a figure hazily appeared in the mist.

The boy emerged from the vapor, black tentacles sprouting from his back like a writhing eldritch abomination. He stared indignantly at a roof on the other side of the plaza and calmly watched a large plane of shining white light materialize in the air above the crowd.

Light from the platform weaved itself into steps that reached him. Climbing up the stairs he was greeted by a figure that dropped onto the platform.

She was enchantingly intimidating, with an icy expression. The gold-engraved steel cuirass she wore perfectly complemented her long gold-accented white skirt and her pauldrons and steel gauntlets were slim and elegant.

“Demon!” Her icy voice flowed like a murderous song.

“This time…” She said, “I will butcher you with my own hands.”

The boy had no words when faced with the icy woman. Instead, he had only a single thought:

I've had it with this world.