Lord Inquisitor stopped beside Deserte’s head.
“Look up into my eyes… Ah… I see the cries. For years you have abused the blessing of the holy Lord. Your family was given the boon to building this village four centuries ago, and you have tarnished their legacy. Dozens of women you r*ped, so many men you killed, and today, you dared to sin against the God’s Favoured, the apostle from heaven.
“A sin worth your bloodline, so much vice, and it still can’t suffice you. Hence, your bloodline is what shall get removed. That’s the only way this land can be improved.
“Hans, bring the Deserte family here and end their bloodline.” He ordered loud and clear.
“N-No… please, great Lord, please. They didn’t do anything wrong… they are innocent, it was all me. There are little kids… kill me, spare them, I beg you!” Deserte jumped to hold Inquisitor High Lord’s feet.
“In the Faith of Solis, there is forgiveness for those who redeem. And death for those whose crimes go this… extreme.” .
THUD!
Without warning, he lifted his metal-shielded leg and stomped on Deserte’s head. Blood splattered, leaving it as a crushed paste of bone and brain matter, a feast for crows later.
Sylvester blankly watched. In his years of service in the CIA, he had seen various gore and violence, sometimes being its creator. He was somewhat amazed by what occurred.
An ordinary human does not have the strength to do this to a skull easily. What was more shocking to him was that the giant man who was so gentle with him and kind to Xavia was all of a sudden such a barbarian. And this was not even the end.
“NO!… Let me go! Run, run my children!”
A dozen inquisitor men dragged three men, four women and four young teens to the front. Only the three men were there before; the women and children had been sleeping in their house until now. They were thrown to the ground beside the Inquisitor High Lord’s feet, exactly where the headless corpse of Chief Deserte was lying. Blood was infused in the sand that had turned it into bloody mud. They were in horror at the sight.
In a scornful, heavy voice, Inquisitor High Lord passed his judgement, “Your bloodline has committed a crime against God’s Favoured. Your bloodline has tainted this land and the name of the Holy Father, the Supreme Pontiff, Axel Tar Kreed, The Wise. By his creed, witches and possessed burnings have been outlawed unless sanctioned by the Church or me, yet you dare to commit false burnings to silence the victims of your crimes. All humans who follow the Lord are born equal, and those who don’t are heathens and deserve nothing but destruction.”
His assistant, Hans, quickly brought a thick golden book and held it in front of the Lord Inquisitor. The giant man then placed his palm on it, making it shine in bright, warm golden light. Sylvester could feel it as he was much closer to it.
He then announced, “All hold witness, in the year 5100 of the Holy Sun, I, Inquisitor High Lord, 3rd Guardian of Light, with the power and duty bestowed upon me by the Supreme Pontiff, declares Deserte family line excommunicated for heresy and condemns it to be erased.”
“AMEN!” The thousands of soldiers from the Inquisitor Army echoed all together.
None of the villagers tried to come forward to save the family. Instead, chopping blocks were brought forward, and heads were forcibly put on them and locked. The men, women and teens cried for mercy, but that was the only thing missing.
No last words were allowed to be spoken, for heathens had no rights. Then, one by one, tall knights with sharp broadswords took their positions. They covered their faces with visors and hands with gloves to not let the heathen blood taint their skin.
Like rats half-stuck in a trap, the Deserte family tried their hardest to get out, pulling and twisting, wounding themselves. Some broke their throats, and some bled themselves. Some raged and screamed mindlessly. Their eyes turned red from the suffocation, and their mouths released foam. Rage, fear, and wish to live combined made them seem like animals giving their last fight.
But, it was all useless. The Holy Inquisition may not be the most powerful and professional army, but they were the best at one thing, beheading.
They swung their swords on the necks in unison.
Thud!—Eyes still open, mouths still releasing foam, heads rolled on the bloodied, dirty ground. The Knights quickly cleaned their blades on the clothes of those they had just beheaded. Then quickly, their subordinates brought leather water pouches and poured holy water on the blades to purify them of the heathen blood.
Sylvester sighed. Hopefully, it was a good thing this family died. He was not a wuss to cry or vomit, but his little baby heart was shaken slightly. One question repeated itself again and again in his mind, ‘What kind of fucked up world is this?’
He knew witch-hunting and burning happened in Europe in the Dark ages but what he saw and heard was too systematic, too institutionalised. And not to say the magic was real here. All his reasoning told him one thing, ‘This is some sort of… fantasy magical religious world that’s stuck in the dark ages on drugs.’
He cursed his luck. After so long, he finally got to be reborn. But all for worse, he appeared in a world that was more of a curse. Nevertheless, he saw Xavia arriving, looking shocked by the gore as well. Sylvester felt some solace. ‘If people like her can exist, maybe not everything is rotten here.’
The Inquisitor High Lord looked around at the villagers. He was certainly not pleased with them, as they, too, were a part of this. “The Archbishop of this duchy shall arrive here tomorrow to purify this land.
“Hans, bring me the decree paper. A new leader needs to be selected. Xavia, my child. Who is the most gentle believer in the village?” He inquired.
After thinking for a second and glancing around, she answered, “T-that would be the… lady healer, Sophia. She’s the midwife who helped me birth Max.”
He slammed his staff on the ground, making the whole village grounds shake as if an earthquake had occurred, “Then by my decree, Healer Sophia is to become the Village Chief. Come forth and take this parchment for approval.”
The middle-aged woman came forward with her head held low in respect. She knelt in front of him after taking the priceless piece of paper. “I will do my duty to the best of my ability, my Lord.”
He nodded and let her leave. His work was done here and now awaited the stagecoach to travel. His large size was his curse, as no horse could support him.
Yawning, Sylvester felt tired. He had not slept at all in the previous few hours. He just wanted this chapter to end now and go back to sleep in Xavia’s warm, soft arms.
But then, suddenly, he felt a certain pressure developing in his little stick between the legs. Of course, he was a baby and had no real control over his digestive and urinary systems.
“Brrr…” He started making the sound that he used to tell Xavia whenever he needed to loosen himself.
But after a minute of making a fool out of himself, he noticed she was still not responding and continued to stare at the corpses of the Deserte family.
‘Hey, mother, look here… your son is fighting for his dear life.’ He intensified the bubbling sound.
Not Xavia, the Inquisitor High Lord was alerted. He faced him and asked, “What is it that you need, blessed child?”
Sylvester had no way of telling what kind of man this giant was. His face was covered with a metal plate; was he a good old man or a terrifying monster with a deformed face. ‘No… I must hold on; I can’t pee on him. No man with self-respect can shrug off being peed on, especially if it’s not their fetish and they belong to a high class.’
“Mama… BRRRRR…”
“What a cute little lad,” Inquisitor High Lord felt his bubbling noise was cute and poked his cheeks. This man’s single finger was as big as Sylvester’s entire leg, and he was supposed to be the fattest baby ever.
“BRRRRRRRRR…!”
“Hahaha…” Hans and a few other Knights laughed hearing him, fawning over his cuteness. Sylvester just cursed at them. ‘Fools… don’t laugh at a man’s misery. I can’t… this is too much… Ah…’
The floodgates opened, flowers bloomed, and spring arrived. That was when poor baby Sylvester let himself loose. His tiny bladder held as much as it could; now he cared not for any consequences and instead basked in the relaxing feeling it brought. He peed so much that it might just cure the village’s drought. His eyes shut closed in ecstasy; he was in—heaven.
But then he remembered, a small bead of sweat flowed down his forehead. The sound of water hitting metal was audible. He opened his eyes, and sure enough, the sky was not raining; it was his manhood.
His face paled more and more as his small, yet strong fountain of sparkling water rained down on Inquisitor High Lord’s conical metal hat. No movement or sound was audible at that moment; the entire Inquisitor army stared at the madness occurring while Inquisitor High Lord’s arms started to shake as if in uncontrollable fury.
Sylvester saw his short month-long life flash in front of his eyes. He sighed, ‘It seems I shall return to being a damn snake. God, please grant me a nicer world next time. Xavia, it was nice knowing you, adios, ciao, sayonara.’
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[A/N: Correctly guess why Sylvester smells strange things from time to time and get the discord role of Oracle that lets you change your nickname freely. Offer valid only for today.]
[NOTE: My discord proofreader slaves are prohibited from revealing it.]
