The Weight of Justice

The stench inside the underground storage was suffocating—a mixture of dampness, decay, and human suffering.

Torchlight flickered against the stone walls, revealing dozens of malnourished children huddled together. Their frail bodies trembled, their wide, terrified eyes staring at the armored soldiers who had stormed their prison.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, the children began to cry.

"W-We're saved…?" one boy whispered, his voice hoarse from dehydration.

A young girl clutched her tattered clothes, tears streaming down her hollow cheeks. "Are we... really safe?"

Commander Roan knelt beside them, his hardened expression softening. "Yes. You are safe now."

At his words, the floodgates broke. The children sobbed, some collapsing in relief, others clinging to the soldiers as if afraid they would disappear. Some were so weak they could barely stand, requiring immediate medical attention.

One soldier, his hands shaking, whispered, "What kind of monster does this…?"

Outside, the Varian Household stood in chaos.

The Lord of Varian, now in chains, was forcibly dragged toward a waiting carriage. His once-pristine noble garments were dirtied, his face twisted in rage.

"This is a mistake! I am a noble of this kingdom! You cannot do this to me!"

Roan stepped in front of him, his gaze cold and unyielding.

"Your crimes have sealed your fate, Lord Varian. Your name will no longer protect you."

The noble snarled, thrashing against his restraints. "You have no proof! The word of starving brats means nothing!"

Roan simply gestured toward the wailing children being carried out of the storage by the soldiers. Their broken bodies and terrified faces spoke louder than any words could.

The watching crowd, nobles and commoners alike, stood in horror. The truth was undeniable.

"Then tell me," Roan said darkly, "how did they end up beneath your mansion?"

Varian's lips parted, but no words came out. For the first time, fear flickered in his eyes.

"Take him." Roan ordered.

The soldiers dragged Lord Varian away, his screams fading into the distance.

The children, now safe, were carefully placed in covered wagons, to be escorted to another town where they would receive treatment and shelter. The nightmare was over.

But Roan knew this was only the beginning.

The town square was packed with people. Nobles, merchants, and commoners alike gathered under the watchful eyes of the Frosthold Army. At the center of it all, a raised platform stood a stage for justice.

The condemned knelt in a row, their hands bound behind their backs. The human traffickers, the corrupt guards, the maids who turned a blind eye, and the Lord of Varian himself all of them awaited their fate beneath the executioner's blade.

At the front of the crowd, Leo Frost sat on an elevated seat, his expression unreadable.

Commander Roan stepped forward, unrolling a parchment. His voice rang out through the silence.

"By order of Frosthold's authority, the following criminals have been found guilty of human trafficking, illegal slavery, and the abduction of innocents." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "The punishment is death."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

The Lord of Varian thrashed against his bindings, his face contorted with fury.

"You have no right! My family holds power in the royal city! My cousin "

Roan's cold stare silenced him. "Your cousin is not here to save you. Your actions have sealed your fate."

The Varian Lady, his wife, sobbed. "We were only following orders! We didn't have a choice!"

"You had a choice," Roan corrected. "You chose to let children suffer."

The soldiers tightened their grips on the prisoners.

One man, a father, cried out in despair. "Please! My son is only twelve! Spare him! He is just a boy!"

He clung to the feet of a nearby knight, his face pressed into the dirt, tears streaming down his face.

The knight did not move.

Roan's voice remained cold. "The child benefit from your crime and enjoy life that cause suffering to others is also guilty. For the children below 10 will be save but their staturs as a noble will be revoke and they will raise carefully in the children facilities up until they grow to wrok in the mines forever."

The twelve-year-old boy, standing among the condemned, trembled violently. His once-proud noble lineage had been reduced to this a child standing among the damned.

The executioners stepped forward, raising their blades.

Leo gave a single nod.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh filled the air.

One by one, heads rolled onto the wooden platform, blood pooling at the executioners' feet.

The crowd watched in silence. Some cheered for justice. Others turned away in horror. But none could deny the message this execution carried.

Frosthold would not tolerate monsters in human skin.

As the last body fell, Roan turned to Leo and bowed. "It is done, my lord."

Leo exhaled slowly, his gaze sweeping over the bodies. "Burn them."

The soldiers obeyed. Flames engulfed the remains of the Varian household's sins.

Justice had been served.

Zach stood among the crowd, his small frame nearly lost in the sea of people. His eyes locked onto the execution platform, where the last head fell, rolling lifelessly onto the bloodstained wood.

The stench of death and burning flesh mixed in the air as the bodies were dragged toward the pyre. The gathered people either cheered for justice or watched in grim silence, their expressions unreadable.

But Zach?

He felt nothing but discomfort.

"What the hell is this…?" he murmured under his breath.

His mind flashed back to his previous life—the world where he had once fought for change, where execution had long been abandoned in favor of rehabilitation and due process. A world where even the worst criminals were locked behind bars, rather than having their lives ended in public spectacle.

But this wasn't that world.

Here, criminals—no matter their status, no matter their role—were judged with death.

The Lord of Varian? Deserved.

The knight who bore his emblem? Expected.

The human traffickers? Absolutely.

But the maids? The chefs? The soldiers assigned to the estate?

They had no power to resist their master's will. They were merely tools—forced into compliance by the hierarchy of this world. And yet, they had been executed all the same.

Leo's judgment was absolute: whoever benefited from the crime was also guilty.

Zach clenched his fists. "That's insane…"

He understood the logic—a harsh, merciless logic.

If you let a rat hole exist, more rats would come. Cut out everything, and the infestation would end. But to execute everyone without exception?

His gaze flickered to the side, where the families of the executed stood in mourning.

Children wept as their mothers, fathers, and older siblings were taken from them. The young ones—those under ten—had been spared. That, at least, was some relief.

He sighed, stepping back from the crowd.

"I really am not in my old world anymore, huh?"

This was a reality he had to accept. A world of nobles and absolute authority. A world where the strong dictated justice. A world where the weak had no voice.

Zach turned away from the burning bodies.

He wasn't naïve enough to think he could change this world overnight.

The day of zach departure.

Zach sat in the carriage, watching as the towering walls of Frosthold gradually shrank into the distance. The city that had been his temporary home for the past few weeks was now behind him, yet the memories of everything he had witnessed remained fresh in his mind.

The joy of exploration, the thrill of learning new things, the camaraderie with Elias…

But also, the weight of reality, the brutality of justice, and the limits of power.

He exhaled, resting his chin on his palm as he gazed out the window.

"This world is harsh… but that's just how it is."

Before, he had tried to compare it to his past life. The structured laws, the debates over morality, the lengthy trials that sought to uphold fairness—none of that existed here. Instead, judgment was swift, ruthless, and absolute.

He had to adapt.

He had to learn.

Because one day, he'd have the power to decide how things should be.

Elias had come to see him off at the city gates, pouting like a child as he crossed his arms.

"You're leaving already? You should stay a bit longer!"

Zach smirked. "What, so you can keep dragging me around to snack stalls?"

Elias clicked his tongue. "As if you didn't enjoy it! Hmph!"

They both laughed, but the mood eventually turned somber.

Elias suddenly reached into his pocket, pulling out a small wooden token with the Frost family crest.

"Take this. If you ever come back to Frosthold, show this to any of my people." He grinned. "That way, I'll know you're here before anyone else does!"

Zach took the token, feeling its smooth surface between his fingers.

"Thanks, Elias. I'll be back someday."

Now, as the carriage rocked along the dirt road back to Ravennest, Zach closed his eyes, sorting through everything he had learned from this trip.

Business. Politics. Power. Judgment. Survival.

The road ahead was still long, but this experience had changed him.