The sun was strong, but the clouds were thick and dark. The wind was fast and moist, and the trees were beginning to grow new leaves after the winter. Flowers sprouted beautifully and naturally. The ambiance was gorgeous—enough to make one stop and admire it.
The village streets were full; there was a special event today: an execution.
People cheered, laughed, and screamed as Faust walked through the streets. Chains bound his hands and feet, and he dragged them behind him, marking the smashed dirt floor. They threw things at him. Multiple phrases and thoughts echoed among the crowd:
An actual demon worshipper, how devious! Kill him!
So he killed those poor beggars? His judgment is right; I'd even say it's not enough.
To think a murderer was in the village... he is too cruel and so young.
Empathy and hate—be it genuine or false—ran wild among those watching.
Faust's black hair was long and disheveled, fluttering along with the wind. His red eyes stared fixedly at the ground; his skin was pale and marked by scars. He wore white clothing given to him, part of the execution ritual.
The sun landed on his hair and skin, making them glow slightly, but his eyes had no light left in them.
He had lost his purpose. It was understandable. It was the equivalent of a homeless man losing the few coins he had gathered after much labor.
Two guards walked behind Faust, brandishing spears and observing him. They weren't nervous in the slightest. The investigation into the money had led nowhere. Faust's words were dismissed as lies, and even if they had been true, there was no reason to return money to a dead man.
Faust's body and head were struck by stones, eventually beginning to bleed and staining his white clothes with blood. Some people, upon seeing this, stopped throwing. Others felt hatred or pity. A demon worshipper was to be hated, but what had led someone so young to such a fate made him pitiful.
But he didn't stop. He kept moving through the streets.
Eventually, he reached a wooden platform, raised from the ground. He climbed it via a small set of stairs at its side. On top of the platform stood a man clad in black clothing and gloves. His face was middle-aged, his hair black. He was the executioner. His waist carried a pointless sword, but its blade was sharper than normal.
The clouds grew darker now; a few droplets of water began to fall from the sky.
"Come here," the executioner said, his voice indifferent.
Faust moved toward him. The executioner gripped his shoulders and ordered. "Kneel."
He knelt on the platform, facing the crowd. Most of the village was watching. His expressionless face and voiceless mouth were all that remained of him. A little farther from the crowd was a suspended watching platform, where Lord Kain, Lady Klara, and Hugo sat on three wooden thrones. With them were a few guards and the guard captain. They were there to witness the execution; they had to.
The executioner stepped forward and breathed deeply.
"The criminal is accused of demonic practices, murder, and body desecration. For that, the sentence applied is that of decapitation. I will be carrying out this execution in honor of Lordship Kain and Ladyship Klara.
"Criminal, you may speak your last words now. You may be granted the chance to speak them or forever remain silent..."
Faust kept silent. A few seconds later
"…Since the criminal has no last words, we shall proceed with the execution."
The executioner brandished his sword. It looked heavy, and sharper than any ordinary weapon—it was obviously meant for killing.
Faust closed his eyes.
The executioner lifted his sword, but before he could bring it down, screams erupted from the crowd.
A giant, pitch-black bear had invaded the village, ravaging the crowd—blood and organs were thrown everywhere. The guards among the crowd grew nervous and disorganized, while others quickly evacuated the three important guests—Lord Kain, Lady Klara, and Hugo. The guard captain ensured the safety of his lords before rushing to the battlefield.
The guards near Faust rushed toward their colleagues, trying to help contain the bear.
Faust seized the chance. He turned and kicked the executioner in the leg with all his strength. Caught by surprise, the executioner fell and dropped his sword.
Faust jumped up and twisted his body in the air. While in the air he wrapped the chains in the executioner neck before the latter could even react, applying all his strength, Faust fell on the ground and a sound was heard.
CRACK!
The executioner neck was broken. Faust unwrapped the chains and let go. He grabbed the man's sword and prepared to run.
This entire scene was being watched by a man atop a two-story building. His dark green hair fluttered with the wind, and he wore a frog talisman on his waist.
His face bore a smile as he looked at the execution platform.
"I finally found you," he said, his gaze locked onto Faust figure.
Dozens of bodies were scattered across the execution area, blood oozing from the bear's paws and mouth. It had bitten and thrashed the villagers savagely. However, the bear was not in a good state either—the guards had already reorganized thanks to the captain and were able to drastically reduce the deaths. Most villagers had already fled the area, and only five guards had died so far.
A faint green light surrounded the guard captain's body—it was aura. Being able to use aura was only possible after extensive experience and training; it was the sign of a seasoned warrior.
Faust saw the situation and recalled what he had witnessed in Red's dream. He understood the bear wouldn't be able to hold on for long—the difference between an aura user and a non-aura user was simply too great.
He decided to run toward the woods.
The captain noticed Faust attempting to escape.
"Go after him! I will deal with the beast. Don't let the criminal escape!"
The guards hesitated for a moment but, desperate to get away from the terrifying bear, they began pursuing Faust.
The captain's sword was forged from clean steel, shiny and razor-sharp.
He leapt into the air, twisting his body to aim for a clean cut at the bear's head. As he descended, holding his sword with both hands, the bear jumped up to meet him instead of dodging. Now that Faust was not commanding it actively, it was following its instincts. Faust had only ordered it to "fight"—the creature was mostly free.
Mid-air, the bear targeted the captain's arm, but the latter was faster. Twisting his body and using the weight of his sword, he dodged in midair, landing on the ground and rolling backward before standing again. The bear, meanwhile, was already rushing toward him with its mouth open.
The captain closed his eyes, letting the creature come close. The moment it was about to bite his torso, he opened his eyes sharply and moved his sword horizontally with perfect precision. The bear's mandible was severed cleanly, falling onto the dirt ground.
Blood gushed uncontrollably from the bear's mouth. Seizing the opportunity, the captain charged again, aiming for the bear's front paws. As he approached, the bear reared onto its hind legs, causing the attack to miss its paws and instead slice open its belly. Its intestines spilled grotesquely from the wound.
The captain was completely dominating the fight. He was old, experienced—if Faust had been able to win, there was no way the captain would lose.
Using the moment, the captain kicked the bear's open wound. A sickening sound echoed, and the bear coughed up a mouthful of blood.
It tried to descend onto all fours to attack, but the captain dodged and stepped back.
The bear stood on all fours again, barely moving.
Not wasting the chance, the captain dug his back foot into the ground, creating a small crater from the force. Holding his sword with both hands, he rushed forward at a speed the bear could not possibly dodge. In a swift horizontal cut, both of the bear's front paws were severed, blood spewing like a fountain.
Without hesitation, the captain slid across the dirt, brandishing his sword with one hand and, with a clean motion, cut off the bear's hind paws as well.
The bear collapsed, growling as loudly as it could.
It couldn't move—it was too wounded.
The captain approached its head and raised his sword. Even without its paws, the bear tried to move and attack.
"Die, beast!"
With all his strength, he thrust his sword downward, impaling the bear's skull.
The bear ceased its growling as blood oozed from its head.
It had died fiercely—still trying to kill, even at death's door.
The captain panted, trying to yank free the embedded blade.
But, unexpectedly, a strong light erupted from the bear's wounds and mouth. The captain's guard was down—he hadn't expected this. It was too late to react.
BOOM!
A massive explosion tore through the area.
Blood, pieces of meat, and fur rained down. The bear's body was gone, replaced by a large crater. As rain fell from the skies, mist rose into the air, making the area foggy.
As the fog started to thin, a figure emerged near the crater, struggling to stand—it was the captain. His body no longer glowed; he had run out of aura. However, if not for his aura absorbing part of the damage, he could be dead.
His injuries were severe—his hand, which had gripped the sword, had been completely blown off, along with half his arm. Apart from that, there were few external wounds, but he spat blood onto the ground.
Blinking heavily, he tried to recompose himself. Some villagers, hiding inside their houses, peered cautiously out their windows to see what had happened.
"What the fuck?!"
The captain stared at the remains of his arm. Losing an arm—especially his dominant one—could mean the end of his life as a warrior. There was no greater loss.
He staggered toward his sword, which had been flung a short distance away. Using his left hand, he yanked it from the ground. Rage burned in his eyes as he began walking toward the woods where the guards had chased Faust.
Subconsciously, he attributed all the destruction to Faust. He wanted his death. He wanted to be the one to kill him.