Episode 16

1

Neither the burning wood nor the thick leather ropes binding his wrists behind his back woke him. It was the light coming through the stained glass that did.

Caim opened his eyes feeling as though he was floating.

Indeed, his feet were not touching the ground. He was tied to a wooden post, the kindling burning, and flames rising eagerly. But the smoke, thick and black, had already reached his lungs. He was coughing as if he had choked on something. If only. That, at least, would be a quick death.

"Brothers and sisters..." declared the priest to his congregation, extending his arms as if to embrace all his faithful.

The sunlight had reached him from outside, it had woken him. But Caim could see no God's will anywhere, nor hear His voice. Why didn't it reach him? Was he truly a son of the devil, unworthy of His favor? He didn’t understand. He didn't want to understand anything. He only wished this were a nightmare.

"We were wrong to feel even the slightest compassion! We told ourselves he was just a child, that perhaps his heart could turn away from darkness. But even now, as a young adult capable of distinguishing good from evil, he continues his horrendous work. Corrupting hearts..."

That's not true, he thought, still groggy. As if he was dreaming while awake. In that state, even his anger, which had kept him standing for years, didn't have the strength it should.

"Spreading evil, chaos. We cannot allow him to poison the spirit of our community. That's why today is the end. But let us not take pleasure in it, tempting as it may be."

Oh, you won't enjoy it, huh? Sure you won’t.

One way or another, that does me no good, you dried-up piece of shit.

"This is not something we should take pleasure in. It is merely our duty."

Who forced you to do this? And who forced them to watch? None of this had to happen.

Was I born for this? To die in agony, burning?

With some luck, he would die of suffocation before the flames could reach him. Damn, that his life was so fucked up that this was considered luck was... He had no words. Most executions by fire ended this way, with the victim suffocating. He had read that somewhere. Most. Not all. And he wasn’t exactly a normal person. He was more resilient, he knew that well. Otherwise, he would have died shortly after being born. So, maybe... he would burn. And not quickly. He would suffer terrible agony while all these bastards watched, pretending not to enjoy it. If it wasn't a pleasure, why had they turned it into a public spectacle?

"What have I done...?"

"Hmm?" murmured the priest, stepping closer. The extra steps he took didn’t mean much one way or the other, of course. He wasn’t going to get too close to the flames. And even if he came within reach, Caim had no way to grab him.

It was, well, that. A spectacle. Part of the performance.

"What have I done to deserve this?" he managed to choke out, coughing violently. His voice barely reached beyond his own ears.

That should be good. It meant he was dying quickly, that the end was near... How could that be good? Even if he avoided the great agony of dying burning, he didn't want to die! He didn't want to die at all! He didn't want to disappear! He hadn't done anything with his life yet! Why was he born to die so soon, like this, with nothing, he had always had empty hands and now they would remain empty, empty like him, was he truly the seed of evil, truly rotten inside, could that be true, could it be that he deserved this, maybe that was the answer, that would make the world sane again, yes, yes, it was a pity but this had to happen because he deserved it, God wanted it this way.

Then the priest came close enough for his voice to be inaudible to the crowd amid the cheers and crackling flames, and he gave his answer. "You should never have tried to lay your claws on my daughter."

His blood froze in his veins, despite the situation. So that was it. Things had reached a point of no return over something so trivial, so petty.

He could hardly believe it, even though not just the priest but anyone present would see it as something natural.

"That's not true," he spat with all the strength he had, which wasn't much. He couldn’t make himself heard... And what would you give me? Even if he had, there was no one who wanted to listen. The priest was a pillar of the community, Caim was marked as repugnant and evil— "We’re just friends. That's all."

"That's enough, but no, boy. No. I see how she looks at you. She would follow you to hell if necessary, and I cannot allow that. You will burn to save the soul of my daughter."

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An impact. The sound of glass shattering. The glass of a window. And through it, at least one person landed. He couldn't see what was happening. They had placed him facing the public so they could see him suffer, after all.

What he did see was the priest fall with a hole in his chest. Blood spreading underneath him like a red carpet. It was so bright it didn't seem real. Perhaps because of the smoke, the flames, the lack of oxygen. He wished it wasn’t real.

The girl who had just entered through the window approached the fallen priest, knelt on the ground. That monster was not dead, but he was close. And she was not going to save him.

"Why did you do this?" he asked, confused and scared, his mouth full of blood. Even Caim could see from where he was. That his eyes were looking through the girl, although trying to focus.

"You taught me to do what’s right. Not even you will stop me."

"Very well, I never cared about my life. I just wish I had saved you."

"You were about to kill the man who did."

The other girl positioned herself behind him to cut the ropes. She also dragged his weakened body away from the insatiable flames. There was commotion, of course. Shouts. No one could keep calm. Those who hadn't fled were simply paralyzed by fear. At the thought that if they were the first to move, they might also be the next to die. It was also because of the surprise.

"Oh, Victoria."

Those were the last words of the priest. The last words of a father to his daughter.

2

Caim had shattered the teleportation glass, laying all his cards on the table, all at stake. There was no turning back. No possibility of fixing things.

But he didn't feel he had made a mistake. It was hard to do so when he was so convinced he would triumph. Indeed, he didn't think he needed anyone's help. This creature would be subdued, shattered, and the doors to the second floor would open before him. The Tower couldn't stop him and couldn't keep secrets from him. It only existed so that he would conquer it, after all.

As much as he hated to say it, the howls coming from his throat sounded less like a warrior preparing for battle and more like a... mere wild animal. Caim hurled himself into the fiery darkness. He didn't land right on the body of the creature, but on the two or three webs he shot first. He moved to its body quickly, of course, before the flames could catch him. But not before slicing that bitch more than a dozen times.

Trying to kill a creature as huge as that with a small sword might seem as stupid and futile as scooping all the sea water with a spoon.

And it was. He hoped the fire would be enough help, but he still threw himself wildly at the creature, as if he really expected to cut his way through that mountain of flesh.

The tentacles rose by the dozens around him, they pounced on him, they bound his wrists like the thick leather of that day, trying to drag him into the flames, but in no case could they stop him for long. A mere effort was enough to break the grip of the tentacles and then also slash them with a sword stroke.

Even he himself wasn't sure how he was fighting against that tide of tentacles without losing ground.

Three tentacles stabbed him, piercing his chest. He tore them off with his bare hands and teeth. And, following a flash of fiery inspiration, he sealed the wounds with his webs. It wasn't the medical attention he needed, but it would serve for now.

The flames were spreading quickly. Were they perhaps slowing down the tentacles a bit? In any case, if he didn't hurry, he would end up burning just as he narrowly avoided that day. He had put himself in that situation, but what a bad joke of an end that would be.

Caim quickly looked back. Just once. Just to confirm that Victoria and Yonah were safe.

He should have done that much earlier. His head... Was this the thing about the Vital Essence that Virgilio had talked about? Or perhaps whatever was fueling his new ability; that energy filling him had to come from somewhere.

It was very typical of humans to blame anything and anyone but themselves.

Perhaps that was the greatest proof that he was a human and not a demon wearing human flesh.

The tentacled monster opened its mouth, letting in the flames. It didn't care. No instinct for self-preservation. It wanted to swallow him whole. In fact, he had waited too long to try it.

Caim shot webs again and again, closing its giant mouth. However, not for long, as the first webs began to burn before they could naturally finish.

They burned too quickly. And they always burned. They would be even more useful if he could control those things... Still useful enough to accomplish what he wanted, of course.

The tentacled monster had transformed into a flaming colossus. A large mass of burning flesh. And now he could indeed affirm: it was affecting the speed of the tentacles, even the power of their blows.

It was dying.

He was winning.

Damn, yes.

The roof (that is, what had previously been the floor for him) was collapsing over their heads, but Caim was barely aware of it. From time to time he moved as if dragged by invisible strings to dodge the debris without even looking back, but that was all.

"Die already!"

The roof was not the only thing falling. The creature too, among its wounds, the debris, and what he had done to the roof. That's why a few tentacles were always busy clinging to the roof and pushing themselves upwards. That's why everything affecting it was getting worse. Caim just needed to finish the job.

And that's what he did.

Jumping using the tentacles as support, so fast that he could give the illusion of flying, almost. Cutting anything that could serve as a support point along the way. The tentacles themselves, but also other things, like vines, wood, helping on his way to pieces of the roof that hung and swayed in the wind threatening to come down.

Of course, he had plenty of time to get back on solid ground, running along one of the last tentacles to detach from the roof and taking a leap before he found himself with his legs hanging over the darkness.

Only when he saw the creature being swallowed by the dark abyss did he wonder what the fuck had happened with the multicolored lights like a rainbow that they had seen in its first appearance.

After deliberating it for a tenth of a second, he decided he didn't give a damn.

Episode 16: FIN