DEMISE!

They had formed a line in front of the tyrant. The night's temperatures fell to zero due to the ashore wind, making it unbearable for them to live outdoors. The three saints of the soul master, Lancer, Charger, and Raider, appeared in front of the audience assembled outside the king's fallen palace. The podium, which was normally used to address the townspeople, was to be transformed into an execution site.

Individuals knelt before the audience on the platform: Alexander Xermia, the Xermia family's head, Rowan Eelse, the Eelse family's head, Ulrio Townsdy, the Townsdy family's head, Sho Akiro, the Akiro family's head, Sigrid Hermon, the Hermon family's head, Thomas Miler, the Milner family's head, and Simmons Harmel Zeyer.

Erik Rovier and Anselm Portriesse had escaped the ordeal with the rest of the town's residents. Julius Aldeim had succumbed to the sword of his lieutenant, Jrue Deryleen, and Arthur Callusios had succumbed to the tyrant's might. Within the crowd, there was unrest. The undead knights shoved them over, closer to the podium, to get a better look at their humiliated leaders.

Tyndale stepped up to the podium shortly after they had assembled, and the crowd's chatter and sobbing subsided. As he approached the ones kneeling on the podium, he walked cautiously, eyeing the captured men, Jrue Deryleen trailed behind him. He came to a halt and turned to face the audience.

“I have come to rid you of the weaklings you all worship as your leaders, my people. They have shied away from their true obligations and have driven the kingdom into perilous times. I couldn't take it any longer, so I came here to teach you how this kingdom could really thrive...” he said.

The sobs of an elderly woman in the audience cut short his voice. To find her, he searched the crowd. When he finally did, he motioned to one of the undead knight guards, and the two of them forced their way through the crowd toward the woman. Her sobs were heavier when she knew they were coming after her, and she made her way through the crowd in an attempt to flee.

She didn't get too far; once she was out of the crowd, one of the knights on the outside of the gathering fired an arrow through her chest, and she fell to the deck, clutching her chest. The remainder of the audience gasped in terror as one of the knights approached her and began pulling her by her hair outside the gates, where the Vurhans remained. They grabbed her and ripped her to shreds.

“This is not a place for the faint of heart. I would not tolerate cowardice; I have come to establish a kingdom in which the strong survive and the weak exist only to support the victorious. I've brought you all here to recognize me as your new ruler. Your king has succumbed to my grasp. And the leaders are no longer in control. You must now swear your allegiance to me or suffer the consequences.”

He elicited no response from the frightened audience. After that, there was a long period of silence. Tyndale's emotions were steadily rising up to anger, and before he knew it, he was barking another command at the crowd.

“Do neither of you wish to acknowledge me?” . When he yelled at the terrified people, they backed away from the podium, others tripping on the ground. Tyndale exhaled steadily, letting go of the frustration that was causing him to lose his cool. He was determined to assert his superiority, and he knew exactly how to do so. He'd done it several times before, and that day would be no different.

“Well, I think your leaders will suffer as a result of your indecisiveness,” he said.

He approached the leaders and delegates of the crested families. He left the audience waiting for his next move by scanning their faces steadily. One of the delegates was seized by the neck and whisked about like a delicate flag the next thing they knew. Rowan Eelse hung in mid-air, his throat constricted and almost squished by the tyrant's firm grip. He kicked and flared his limbs as he tried to breathe.

The ruler exclaimed, "Your soul is mine!"

He reached out and laid his hand on Rowan's chest; a concentrated string of violet and black energy poured out of his chest and onto Tyndale's arm shortly after. And from distance, the audience could see the flicker of life in his eyes fade away, his legs stopped kicking, and his hands fell away from the tyrant's grip. He eventually collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

“Do you really refuse to acknowledge me as your ruler?” He screamed again.

The chants set off a chain reaction. The public hanging of one of their delegates frightened the shocked audience even more. Tyndale grumbled softly as he watched the audience press back towards the surrounding walls, backing away from him. He tossed Rowan's dead body across the platform, scraping a few splinters off the wooden deck as it rolled across the podium.

He went on to the next victim, Sho Akiro, who was kneeling beside Rowan, still breathing. His slim frame was easily picked up. Before he had picked him up off the deck, Tyndale clenched his throat even tighter than before, nearly crushing it. He didn't hesitate to recite his trademark prayer this time, instead driving a fist into Akiro's chest. The energy immediately poured out of Akiro's chest and into his arm.

He threw him free, just as he had his previous victim, which disturbed the crowd even more. The undead knights at the back of the line poked their swords into the backs of those in the crowd who were turning their backs on them. They pushed them in the direction they wanted to go.

“You're still resisting! ” Tyndale screamed furiously, a burst of spit erupting from his lips. Some citizens in the crowd dropped to their knees wherever they were, others were stood on by the commotion's scuffles, and others screamed their resignation to the dictator. Tyndale managed a fleeting grin as he couldn't help but admire the fear he was inducing; dread seemed to excite him.

“This is how my forefathers screamed and wailed as your king sentenced them to be burned in the pits of flames, accusing our mystic arts of being wicked! My father had to stand there and watch his mother and father burn to death! I can still feel their anguish. Our clan was driven away by your stupid leader, beyond the walls and into the unknown. It was all because an elder brother god told him to. I can't hold a deity responsible for the deaths of my relatives. I fault you all for failing to speak up to defend the ones you shared your lives with. Their crimes, as well as the king's and the dark bender's, are on your shoulders, and I will be the one to punish them!”

Tyndale came to a halt. Without ever looking at him, he looked for another body. Ulrio Towndsy's collar was wrapped in his fingers. He lifted him to his feet and sucked his life out, much like the others. Sigrid Hermon, Thomas Milner, Alexander Xermia, and Zeyer Harmel were kneeling on the stage to the left.

“Your ancestors were monsters, They were a cancer on the nation. Getting rid of them was a huge help to humanity as a whole. If you ask me, the king was merciful in allowing the children to leave; but, if I were him, I wouldn't be so kind!” From behind the dictator, a voice echoed.

He turned around to check the number of individuals on the podium, trying to figure out who may have the audacity to say such vile things to him. His gaze fell on the speaker, Harmel Zeyer.

“Boy,” he said, his hand reached out to him. “You will fall like the rest of them,” Harmel spat at the tyrant's outstretched hand, "and I applaud your courage for saying those words to me." Do you want to be my slave, entrapped in my sleeve with souls, or do you want to die?”

He said, "I'd rather die at the hands of the Vurhans than have you taking my soul."

“Ask, and it will be given to you!” 'Yes,' said the dictator. He rearranged his fingertips around Harmel's head, readjusting his grip. He shoved Harmel's head into the deck, cracking the wooden board, with all his might in his fist. As he sank lower, the raw edges of the broken floor scraped the skin off Harmel's head.

Tyndale dragged him back, inspecting the damage to his face. He didn't seem content with the extent of the disfigurement. He resorted to regularly ramming Harmel's head into the floor, saying, "The beasts want their meat tender." The audience gasped in disbelief. Many who recognised the king's spokesman couldn't stand it any longer and averted their gaze, sobbing and weeping.

The barrage of shots kept coming. Harmel's body stopped moving, and he hung from Tyndale's palm. Tyndale leaned in next to his vitiated face, admiring his work. Harmel spit the blood gathered in his mouth at Tyndale, who grinned back before flipping him over the crowd and all the way to the assemblage of Vurhans who stood behind the prisoners, with the last remnants of life he had. And before they reached the ground, they jumped to him and sank their claws and teeth into his flesh.

A violet and black streak of energy fled the hill of monsters and sank into Tyndale's sleeve as vurhan upon vurhan piled up on him. He sighed deeply before breaking into a grin at the end, pleased by the screams.

TO BE CONTINUED...