Chapter 482

Chapter 105: Clashing Bones and Burning Blood – Part Four

“Scum…”

I clenched my teeth.

At this moment, the emotion was beyond anger.

The chaotic clamor around me, the flashes of blades and swords amidst the cold, the collision of flames and golden light, everything blurred rapidly before my eyes as if the entire world had shrunk to just the figure swinging a blade towards me.

I looked at the ugly sneer on that figure, and in an instant, the scene of the Silent Fortress shimmering under the sunlight flashed through my mind, followed by the beautiful face of Lady Alastair.

She stood atop the city wall, gazing at the beautiful and fertile plains, with a charming young lady dancing in the wind nearby. The red dress fluttered like a feather in the breeze, and a melodious tune faintly hummed, the moving lyrics echoing clearly in my ears.

[The banners flutter, blue and white intertwined ~ The grasses shine with morning dew…]

Lady Alastair turned her head with a smile blooming like flowers.

[Hill, do you see this scenery?]

She would never say such things to me again.

“Aaaahhhhhh—”

Emotions surged like an endless river, bursting from my heart and flooding my body. Yet, the only outlet was to scream, the explosive energy erupting instantly, slicing through the air with the “Dragon Claw” gripped tightly in my hand.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

The beautiful scene and the graceful figures before me twisted, shattered, and vanished. The cherished images in my heart instantly turned into frosty snow, sweeping away with the short sword’s swing. Violent cold winds howled through the forest, and I could still hear the stifled sobs and shrill screams from that night in the castle. In the next moment, the heretic who had been grinning wickedly approached me and flew up into the sky with a “whoosh.”

“Scum!!!”

Bam—

In the area tens of meters ahead, a thick layer of ice and frost still covered countless trees, spreading out cold air. The few figures engaged in combat around us, be they heretics or knights, were frozen in fear. Their movements slowed down, some staggered unsteadily, their armor and clothes covered in frost.

Although I had controlled the attack range at the critical moment, no knight suffered from frostbite. But it was clear that we couldn’t stay here much longer. I faintly heard Saphiros shouting, “The enemy is ashes! Follow me and tear them apart—”

And the figure I struck flew over ten meters high, almost disappearing from sight.

In the next moment, sharp ice columns erupted from beneath my feet, propelling me upward. With the howling wind, I pursued the struggling, falling heretic Wethemir in mid-air.

Half of the man’s body was frozen, and intense flames burst through his right chest, instantly enveloping him. Frost was melting visibly from his body. He kept changing positions in the air, his movements frantic, his longsword nowhere to be found. Seeing me approach, he quickly raised his right arm, which could still move, and a crimson flame suddenly bloomed from his palm.

He wants to resist…

He actually wants to resist?!

A cold mist surged again from within me, and icy frost pressed down on the man engulfed in flames in the air. The intense red fire flickered violently like straw in a hurricane, shaking and extinguishing within a second.

Wethemir, the heretic, had a thick layer of frost covering his hair and eyebrows. His face solidified in a hideous expression, and before he could make any sound, his frozen body began to fall faster and faster.

Bam!

He hit the ground, splattering mud, his body shattering like fragile glass with a loud crack. Both arms and one leg shattered instantly upon impact, cracks spreading from his chest to his entire body.

In the next moment, I landed in front of him.

“Hu—”

I exhaled deeply, a cold breath.

I looked down at the heretic, at his pitiful form, silent for a moment. Without knowing why, I smiled gently.

“You want to provoke me.”

He wasn’t dead yet.

Of course, I couldn’t let him die so easily.

The man’s eyes could still roll. He stared at me intently, his azure pupils trembling slightly, filled with a mix of fear and disbelief. Sparks of fire flickered from his body, gradually melting the ice on his face and restoring his rigid expression.

“You succeeded.”

“Then, are you ready for my rage?”

I reinserted the short sword into its sheath, watching him slowly recover, seeing his lips move, uttering meaningless sounds—”Uh… Ah…”—as if he wanted to say something to me.

Fine…

I’ll give you a chance to speak.

I stared at his trembling pupils, slowly closing my eyes.

Then, I opened them.

“Delusion.”

Zzz—

As the scene shifted, everything suddenly turned white.

In the next moment, the lush forest had transformed into dimly lit stone walls. Numerous dark dog cages appeared intermittently in the light, with faint silhouettes of people huddled inside. Sharp laughter and agonized screams echoed faintly from the small stone rooms, and the air was thick with dampness and decay.

This was the scene etched deeply in my memory, replayed day and night. Even though I had left the Silent Fortress, that night repeatedly appeared in my dreams. I heard women’s mournful cries countless times. It became my nightmare—precisely because of this, I could instantly recreate this hellish scene.

I imagined such a scene, the voices of those women, and the heretic in the illusion naturally heard and saw them.

Now, he was trapped in a cage-like cell, his limbs intact but his body naked and shackled. He curled up into a ball, seemingly unable to comprehend what was happening. He stared blankly around, startled and slightly terrified, then saw me standing outside the cage with a cold gaze, momentarily stunned.

“You…”

He immediately noticed the shackles on his limbs, realized his predicament, and started struggling in the cage.

“What is this?! What did you do to me?!!”

“Let me go—!!!”

The man waved his hands, trying to use the power of the inferno to escape. Then he discovered that he had no strength left. The familiar flames did not ignite from within him—I imagined him lacking the power of the inferno, imagining him like those bullied women, a powerless ordinary person.

He was just an ordinary man.

“Why… How can my strength be like this… Why am I here… Is it you… What did you do to me! What did you do to me!!!”

Wethemir, the heretic, struggled violently in the dark, damp cell, chains clanging loudly. He desperately punched the iron bars, his face twisted in a demonic rage, but all was futile.

“Heh.”

I looked at him and sneered.

“All you can rely on is the power of the inferno.”

“What are you saying! What are you talking about! Damn little girl, what have you done to me—!!!”

“You used this power recklessly, committing evil, hurting the innocent… You destroyed this sanctuary… You built your joy on her

They screamed in agony, atop their suffering. Unscrupulous, harming others, listening to their cries, you must enjoy such feelings…”

“Damn! Damn!! Damn!!!”

The man raged uncontrollably within the cage. The confined space prevented him from even standing, forcing him to half-kneel in humiliation as he wildly pounded the iron bars, his hands dripping with blood. With the final punch, his knuckles cracked, causing him to scream in pain. His bloodshot eyes fixed on me with intense malice, but behind that malice lay an indescribable fear and trembling before the strange unknown.

I saw his genuine trembling.

“Are you afraid?” I stared into his eyes, enunciating each word, “This is what you like. The feeling of bullying the weak.”

“When you treat others this way… one day, someone will have enough power to treat you the same way.”

“Ah ah ah ah—!” Wethermill violently shook the cage, roaring at me like a beast, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you—!! I want you to scream just as loudly as those women! I want you to die as humiliated as they did!!!”

“Huh. Who do you think you are?”

I looked at the man’s frenzied face and couldn’t help but imagine the tortures the women had endured, imagining the heretic using the same methods to torment them. Then, a burning hot branding iron appeared in my hand.

“You are all weak.”

Sizzling—

The end of the branding iron was red-hot, emitting a heart-stopping sound, wisps of smoke rising from the metal. Holding the handle, I extended it into the cage.

“You dare not! How dare you!!! Little bastard… I’ll tear your body apart… Ah ah ah ah—”

The hot branding iron slowly advanced. Wethermill kept shrinking deeper into the cage, spewing filthy words, but it was just his last desperate outburst. The man’s terror was already evident on his face, his ugly features twisted, oblivious to the snot running down his nose as he kept retreating, like a mouse cornered by a cat with no escape.

The thick hair on the man’s chest curled up as the branding iron drew closer, stopping just inches from his chest, scorching his skin until it turned black and blistered.

“You’re right.”

The branding iron lingered on the man’s chest for a moment before withdrawing. I sighed in relief, pulling it out of the cage and tossing it aside.

“I’m not like you. So, I won’t do this.”

I can’t do such things.

Even facing such despicable vermin, I don’t want to derive pleasure from tormenting others.

Otherwise, what’s the difference between us?

I slowly closed my eyes.

What I couldn’t stop thinking about was still the gentle dance of the young girl under the moonlight and Lady Alanstre’s warm smile.

When I opened my eyes again, the dark stone room was gone, and I found myself back in the frosty forest. Wethermill, still in the pose of the cage, stood naked, shivering, with a thick layer of ice covering his eyebrows.

“You, you…”

His voice trembled, his eyes bulging as if he saw something unbelievable: “You… are… Alanstre’s…”

In Wethermill’s eyes, the hateful, beautiful girl who filled him with reckless thoughts yet terrified him to the core, now suddenly transformed.

She looked like the noble mother he had tortured, unyielding day after day. She also resembled the mad, docile sheep he had tormented into submission, opening her legs but no longer bringing him any excitement.

The girl’s face rapidly changed and distorted, sometimes like Lady Alanstre, sometimes like her daughter, then like both. Standing before him, her figure seemed ghostly, except for her icy gaze, which never wavered, staring at him as if he were a dead man.

Wethermill felt a surge of blood, making it hard to breathe. He remembered the orders he gave before leaving, the cowardly noble boy who would do anything to survive. He should have ordered the rebel soldiers guarding the dungeon to kill all the women in the cages.

What’s going on…

“They… should be dead…”

They should be dead.

Why…

Wethermill felt his teeth chattering, not from the cold.

The girl, the cellar, the cage… and whatever died long ago. Even back in the forest, he could still hear the whispers of the dead, their shrill laughter and screams, like a curse circling his mind, impossible to shake off.

This incredible everything exceeded Wethermill’s comprehension. Staring at the girl’s constantly changing face, he gradually believed that these dead souls were seeking revenge on him.

“Don’t come closer…”

The man spoke in a trembling voice, uttering weak, hesitant words.

“You are already dead… You are already dead…”

He had never been like this.

Facing such irrational, truly demonic power, Wethermill’s prideful inferno was useless. He became a lamb awaiting slaughter, just like the weak victims he had abused, powerless to resist.

He had never felt so lost, fearful, and helpless.

This is the power of evil spirits…

They came for me.

“Don’t come closer…”

So, there really are evil spirits…

They want me dead.

“Don’t come closer!!”

Where would I go after I die…

Surely not into the embrace of the God of Truth.

“Get away from me—!!!”

The man struggled frantically, swinging his remaining left arm wildly, his face showing a savage yet extremely anxious expression, desperately trying to stand up, but failing. He could only shout hoarsely: “Ahhhhh—”

As if this would scare away the evil spirits.

“How ugly.”

I squatted in front of him, looking at the man’s pale face from the cold and fear with a cold gaze tinged with pity.

“Even with the power of the inferno, you are still weak, pitiful, even less than those women you tormented.”

Enough.

If I delay any longer, Safiros and the others might come.

I closed my eyes, dispelling the illusion.

The cold wind howled around me, frost grains slowly drifting in the air. After exiting the illusion, I remained in the same standing position, crimson inferno flames bursting from the man beneath me, gradually melting the frost.

He was still alive, unharmed by the illusion, but his bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the sky, muttering something unintelligible, which I didn’t want to listen to.

“You are the first.”

Piercing ice spikes, small but sharp, burst from the mud before me, impaling the heretic’s broken body, piercing it with countless holes. Blood mixed with fire flowed everywhere, then froze and extinguished. The man twitched, and moments later, turned into a bizarre human ice sculpture, motionless forever.