The Third Sword's Judgment
Lucia, the Third Sword of the Holy Kingdom. Unlike other sword masters who manifested sky-blue aura at that level, she produced a platinum aura and was called the Apostle of God. The commander of the Heresy Inquisitors, she proved her faith by carrying out her sacred duty as a blade for God, of God, and only for God.
The ruthless marches of the Heresy Inquisitors were among the threats other nations watched warily. Rumors that entire villages had been branded heretical and wiped out spread like wildfire. Even those who had committed no crime greeted the inquisitors' passage with nothing but silence and terror.
Unlike those who preached the nameless god in the name of mercy, the witch trials—far beyond ordinary torture—felt like divine judgment itself to the powerless. The witch trial.
The people of Garirill village trembled in the village square, herded together by the rough hands of heavily armed Heresy Inquisitors. Men and women were separated regardless of age. The men were forced to kneel, while the women were tied to chairs, blindfolded, and thrown into panic. It wasn't as if no one had resisted when the inquisitors first stormed in. The heads of families who had grabbed farming tools or axes to protect their loved ones were immediately executed for the crime of being bewitched by the witch.
“……”
A heavy silence hung over the village square, broken only by the occasional sob as people fought back tears.
“We have detained everyone in the village except for the seven bewitched by the witch.”
“I see.”
One inquisitor finished his report and returned to his position. Roughly forty people, including children, had been gathered in the square—a sizable number for a rural village.
“P-please listen. The villagers are innocent, so I beg you…”
“Oh?”
The village chief, impaled on a spit and hovering between life and death, barely managed to speak. Though his voice was faint and weak, it was enough to draw the attention of the Heresy Inquisitors. And he wasn't the only one who noticed. The villagers needed someone to blame. It wasn't that we wanted to contract with the witch—it was all the chief's decision. We are innocent. Everything is the chief's fault.
“Please spare us…! We only did what the chief ordered us to do!”
“Old man, speak up…!”
To Lucia, who had been taught that humans were inherently good, the scene felt like nothing more than the witch's cruel prank. If it wasn't the witch's doing, then perhaps humans were inherently evil. The thought made her nauseous.
“The witch… the witch…!”
The chief couldn't finish his sentence. He vomited black blood and collapsed limply.
“Lady Lucia! That was—”
“There is no need for surprise. It is the witch's trick.”
At Lucia's gesture, two inquisitors approached the chief. After checking his condition with their scabbards, they shook their heads. One possible lead to the witch's hiding place had died with the chief, but Lucia felt no particular regret.
“Your chief is dead.”
“If there were no witch here, you could not have died simply for speaking the truth about her.”
“I will find the witch among you.”
At Lucia's words—which might as well have been a death sentence—most of the men rose up in protest.
“There is no witch among us! The witch is… ugh!”
“Silence, heretic.”
“The witch lives in the forest. She has pink hair and brought abundance to us poor villagers!”
There is no witch among us. You don't understand. The witch is someone else.
“Do not deceive people with your words.”
The Heresy Inquisitors approached one woman. Blindfolded and bound to her chair, she had grown hypersensitive to sound. When she heard the clank of armor drawing near, she began to thrash, instinctively sensing what was about to happen to her.
“Mmmph!! Mmmph!!!!”
“Prove your piety through faith alone.”
The inquisitors lifted the chair with the woman still tied to it and walked silently forward. The lake in the center of the village was so clear that the bottom was visible.
“Hrrrmph… blrrrmph!!!”
“We are the guardians of providence.”
Despite her struggles, the inquisitors reached the lake without hesitation and hurled her in.
“……!!”
Ripples spread across the surface. The inquisitors watched her sink and flail at the bottom while Lucia recited her prayers. The men who witnessed the scene and the women who understood it through sound all realized one crucial fact.
“If you are truly innocent, you shall return to the mother’s embrace.”
“If you have sinned, you shall depart from the mother’s embrace.”
An inquisitor confirmed that the woman had stopped moving after her final desperate thrashing and signaled to Lucia.
“The innocence of the woman just now has been proven.”
“Murderers!! You throw people into the water and claim to know whether they’re witches or not!”
“A perfectly natural question. If she were a witch, would she not float to save her own life?”
“……”
Lucia’s answer was absolute. These people had no intention of sparing any of them.
“Next. Let the trial continue.”
Screams. Desperate pleas for mercy. The village that had been bustling like a festival only yesterday had turned into hell in a single day.
Joshua huddled inside the storage space beneath the floorboards, squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing her tears at every sound from outside. Thanks to her mother’s help she had managed to hide from the Heresy Inquisitors, but she could not hide from the screams.
My beloved daughter, Joshua. You must not come out until Mommy returns. Understand?
She clamped both hands tightly over her mouth to hold back her sobs.
“Please spare me! I’ll do anything if you just let me live—kyaaaaaah~!!!”
She missed her mom and dad. She wanted to see them, but she didn’t want to hear their voices. Every time a scream rang out, it meant she wouldn’t hear that particular voice again. Joshua instinctively understood that each cry was someone’s final death rattle. When she heard the voices of her sister or aunt, she felt a wave of relief. No matter how long she waited, she never heard her mother’s scream.
Her mother must have survived.
Once she thought that, the tears finally stopped. Eventually even the screams and the clank of unfamiliar armor fell silent. Her trembling body grew still. A faint smile curved Joshua’s lips. Exhaustion washed over her, and as she drifted into sleep she believed without doubt that her mother would come find her soon.
By the time Joshua woke, she had no idea how much time had passed. One side of her body burned with heat while the other felt freezing cold. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the charred floorboards.
“…!”
Her mother had told her not to come out until she returned. She frantically tried to block the gaps with her hands, but the floorboards—now nothing more than ash—collapsed and buried her.
“Cough… cough…”
After several coughs she spat out the ash and carefully cleared away the debris. The urge to find her parents and tell them she was hurt outweighed her mother’s warning not to leave. Don’t cry. It’s all right. After a few nights of sleep, the wounds will fly far, far away.
The village had become a ruin. The chief’s house, the largest in the village, was burned down to its foundation. Every other house had suffered the same fate.
“Mom… Dad… where are you?”
Each word stabbed her throat with pain. The voice her friends had once praised as pretty now sounded like rough scraping metal.
In the center of the village stood a pole she had never seen before. Chunks of foul-smelling meat were skewered along its length. Joshua wondered who would leave such large pieces of meat out in the open, until she realized the shapes looked exactly like human bodies. She could no longer bear to look.
Wiping her tears with tiny hands, she continued searching for her parents. Women’s corpses had floated to the edge of the village lake; schools of fish were nibbling at them.
“Mom. Wake up, okay?”
She found her mother instantly. She shook her, trying to wake her, but there was no response. Angry at the fish eating her mother, she threw stones to drive them away, then grabbed her mother’s hand and pulled with all her might. The body wouldn’t budge at first. After several slips and falls she finally managed to drag her mother onto the shore.
She cried in her mother’s arms, fell asleep, then woke and cried again. Suddenly remembering her father, she jumped to her feet. She had to tell him that Mom wouldn’t wake up. Dad could fix anything.
Finding her father proved far harder. No matter where she looked, there were no men left in the village. The only place remaining was the central square with its pole of stinking meat.
Overcoming her instinctive revulsion, Joshua shook one of the motionless lumps, wondering if her father might be there. Her father was missing the pinky finger on his left hand. She had heard the story of how he had lost it while learning to chop wood from her grandfather as a child. He was the only one in the village without that finger, and his friends had often teased him about it. The moment she realized the lump missing its left pinky was her father, Joshua accepted reality.
The father who had protected her, the mother who had watched over her sleep—they were both gone now.
A way to meet her parents came to mind. She had to make a grave. Just like Rebecca and Tony had done. She wanted to say one last goodbye.
Too weak to carry the bodies, Joshua cut off one hand from each of her parents. She chose the spot beneath the floorboards where she had hidden—the place their family had been happiest—as their grave. She placed their hands together inside the small storage space and built a mound using the surrounding ash. Her tiny, pitiful body was not strong enough to decorate the grave with dirt or stones.
Remembering the fish that had been eating people in the lake, she picked up a charred wooden stick from nearby. Even if not the fish, she feared animals might dig up the grave and devour her parents.
The sun and moon passed overhead several times. That day, it rained.
Joshua woke beneath the eaves of a half-burned house that barely sheltered her from the rain. She saw flowers blooming on her parents’ grave.
“Mom, Dad… I love you.”
Looking at the fully bloomed flowers, she gathered her resolve not to cry one last time. If her parents saw her tears, they would be sad. She forced herself to smile brightly, the kind of smile she might never wear again.
Though she could not hear them, she was certain her mother and father were saying their final farewells too.
Flowers had bloomed on Joshua’s own body as well, covering her where she stood. Whether half her body had been burned or flowers were growing from her wounds no longer mattered.
Squelch— Squelch—
At the sound of footsteps on rain-soaked ground, she picked up the wooden stick she had set aside. Someone had come to the village.
Squelch— Squelch—
The footsteps drew closer. She had to protect the grave.
“Oh my.”
Red eyes gleamed amid soft pink hair as the woman spotted Joshua. It was the witch.
Tears welled in Joshua’s eyes as she gripped the wooden stick tightly. There were so many things she wanted to say. Why did the villagers have to die because of you? Why did Mom and Dad have to die? Please bring them back. Her body shook. Even as the witch approached and knelt to meet her at eye level, the words refused to leave her throat.
“Won’t you give me that flower?”
While gently stroking her head and carefully plucking the flowers growing from her body—
These flowers were her final farewell. She could not give them to the witch. She wished the witch would take the ones from the grave instead of the ones on her own body.
The witch took Joshua’s cold hand in a firm grip. The fairy tale her mother had read to her before bed came to mind. Witches were selfish. They never listened to people. Joshua hated the witch. Even as she was led away by the hand, she swore that in whatever life remained to her, she would never, ever like the witch.