Someone scary

Chapter 7

The church was dark, silent, and abandoned. Only the moonlight pierced the darkness through cracks in the dilapidated walls.

Without warning, the front door bursts open, revealing a knight wearing a familiar blue mantle, his hands smoking and outstretched towards the door. Several other blue-clad knights walk into the church, stationing themselves around the entrance and facing towards the empty altar. Silence briefly returns as every knight got in position.

Then, heavy footsteps could be heard.

At the church’s open door, with moonlight behind him, the tall, imposing form of a man slowly walks inside. He wore a weathered, wide-brimmed hat on his head, and a long blue trench coat with a few golden embellishments. Enough for a statement, and not too extravagant.

He was holding a long piece of double-barreled cold steel, the kind of gun that didn’t warn its victims… it simply ended them. The man stops walking, points his weapon towards the altar, and fires.

The blast thundered inside the old building, shaking dust off the walls, and in front of the man, reality itself shattered like glass. The sharp pieces of the illusion crashed onto the ground, and the scene in front of them changed.

A group of people gathered near the altar, its surroundings dimly lit by candles. They pointed their assortment of weapons and equipment at the knights. And at the center of the group, dressed like a priest in violet robes, was their leader, his face covered in a dark veil.

“Welcome to our sermon. You didn’t really have to do that; I would’ve let you through,” the leader says in a calm voice.

The man at the entrance places his shotgun on his shoulders and speaks with cold authority.

“By decree of Valebryn’s Aetheryn Order, the individual named Judan Lostron, as well as all of his associates, are under arrest for multiple charges of terrorism, murder, soul subjugation, and other first-degree crimes under Valebryn’s Justice Codex. Subjects are to be captured alive if possible…”

The man brings his gun down and holds it with both hands

“...but I reckon y’all ain’t gonna want to come with us without a scuffle.”

The leader raises his hands and laughs. “Well now, those are some heavy accusations you have there, sir. Are you sure your rusty old head isn’t-”

“Save yer goddamn excuses for the court. I don’t wanna hear it. Anyone of you who wants to attend y’all’s trials with your limbs attached to your body, get rid of your weapons and surrender.”

The atmosphere was tense; almost no one moved. Some people near the altar looked over to their leader and back to the knights. Then, without warning, a tall, scrawny-looking elf disappears from their ranks and reappears behind the knights’ leader. At the same time, the veiled man shoots a bolt of lightning towards the defector, which is blocked by the knight’s shotgun. Everything happened within a single second, and the other knights quickly restrained the elf.

“You will not take him,” the leader says as he closes his fist. The restrained elf then starts screaming in pain as he turns into stone and crumbles into dust right before everyone’s eyes. The other subordinates fearfully watched what happened, any idea of mutiny erased from their minds.

“You will not take any of us. We will carry out her plans, and share in her grief… Your time is ticking, Valebryn. Soon, we will--”

Suddenly, his head gets blown off, interrupting him. Blood and flesh scattered everywhere, but all of it simply moved back to the body and reassembled the man’s head, including his veil.

“I’ve had enough of this,” the knight with the trench coat says as he racks his still-smoking shotgun and fires another round on one of the followers, whose head unfortunately did not reassemble. He walks forward while firing as the fugitives spring into action, all of them rushing forward and attacking him. The other knights, meanwhile, stayed behind and watched their leader.

A hand made of stone rises from the ground on opposite sides of the man, attempting to crush him. But it quickly crumbled after a quick shot to the caster’s head. More fugitives rushed him from all directions, all dropping dead one by one after each shotgun blast. The knight places the gun on his shoulder and fires at an invisible enemy behind him, the only evidence of their existence being the spray of blood and gore on the ground.

As more of them approach, he grabs his gun by the barrel and smacks the handle into an enemy. With a subtle ripple of light and movement along the gun’s form, it had transformed into a different weapon. He held its scabbard with his left hand and with an effortless swing of his right arm, all five enemies in front of him were cleanly bisected by his katana. The gleam of the blade and sight of their allies split in half forced the others to step away from the knight, cowering into the church’s walls.

“You… you useless shits!” the veiled man shouts in frustration. He raises his hand towards a group of his people, and all they could do was watch in horror as one of them suddenly bursts into flames and flies towards the knight, only to get sliced. A few follow the same fate, before multiple people rise into the air and shoot towards the knight with immense speed and force. He dodges all of them as they fly around like cannonballs, their screams punctuated by a meaty crunch as they bounce off the walls and back to him. After a while, there was nothing left but small, harmless chunks.

The leader shouts in frustration again, and his remaining subordinates start floating into the air. Their faces were full of fear until the end, when all of their bodies separated into hundreds of thin, disk-like segments.

“Slice this, you bastard!” the veiled man shouts as he sends thin, razor-sharp body pieces toward the man with blinding speed. The other knights in the entrance summon a transparent veil to block the projectiles, which was quickly blotted out by blood splattering on the barrier like rotten tomatoes.

The knight’s leader, meanwhile, slowly approaches the criminal, holding his blade forward and separating the space itself in front of him to carve a path and avoid the attacks. He stops in front of the leader as they run out of projectiles and helplessly fall to the ground. In one quick movement, the knight sheathes his katana, spins it forward, and with a brief ripple of light, it turns back into a shotgun, its barrels pointed at the criminal’s face.

The knight hears heavy breathing behind the veil, which parts to the side, revealing the mad and desperate face of Judan Lostron.

“May the world share in her grief, and be plunged into his inevitable darkness,” the veiled man recites under his breath as his head slowly twists, snapping his neck and sending the body collapsing lifelessly.

“Oh no, I ain’t done with you yet,” the knight says, shooting the body with chains. He walks back to the entrance, dragging along the body at first, until the spectral form of Judan separates from his corpse, leaving it behind. His soul wakes up and realizes what was happening. He panics and shouts at his captor as he gets dragged along the ground by the knight wearing a leather hat.

…

“And that, is the most popular story about our leader, Aetheryn Order’s current Prime Sentinel, the Steelstorm Sheriff, Sir Valiansteel,” Lance says with a flourish of his hands as he finishes narrating. Naoya sat across the table, his mouth open in awe of the story he had just heard.

“We rarely see Sir Valiansteel, only during ceremonies and such. But his presence is something else,” Greta remarks beside Lance, shivering a bit before taking another bite of her lunch.

They were having lunch at a popular restaurant in Valebryn, with several dishes in front of them. Naoya composes himself, taking another bite of his steak before asking, “So is he like, the leader of the city or something?”

“No. Only of Order. But nobles. Scared of him. Lots of them. So little corruption,” Astrea replies, taking a sip of her coconut juice.

“Wow… and you said he’ll be deciding what happens to me?”

“Yes. According to Captain Bellan, he sent a report of your interrogation and SEMTUCKLER results to Sir Valiansteel. We don’t really have a protocol for handling people from another world, so the Captain left the decision to Sir Valiansteel,” Greta explains.

“That makes me a bit nervous now. What’s he gonna do to me?”

“Don’t worry. He’s very scary. But very fair. On justice side. You’ll be fine,” Astrea reassures him.

“He sounds like a great guy based on what you guys told me. I wish I could meet him--”

Before he could finish his sentence, the front door of the restaurant suddenly burst open and all the lights inside went out. The pink fairy hides behind Naoya, and everyone went quiet, watching the entrance. Sunlight poured into the hall, and there stood the tall silhouette of a man wearing a wide-brimmed leather hat and a blue trench coat with few golden embellishments.

At the sight of the man, Greta, Lance and Astrea rose from their seats and stood at attention. Naoya, seeing their stiff faces and their reactions, slowly realizes who this man is as he walks to their table, each step echoing in the quiet dining hall. His fear gradually builds up, reaching its peak as the man stops in front of them, raises his hand, and snaps his fingers.

Naoya flinches at the sound, but all that happened was the lights turning back on and the front door closing. He looks back up at the man, seeing a pair of cold, steady, and piercing eyes… as if Naoya was staring straight into the twin barrels of a shotgun. His face had several scars, almost hidden by the creases of his skin and his rough stubble. Definitely noticeable, but only by those who dared to look at him long enough.

“At ease, knights,” he says without looking away from Naoya, who doesn’t know where to look. “You must be Naoya, yes?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” Naoya softly replies, gathering his courage and looking back at the man.

“I read Bellan’s report. Interesting story you got there. And interesting test results too,” he says as right lip curls into a smirk. “Let’s see how interesting you really are then. Follow me, boy. And you other youngins too,” he says as he turns around and walks to the door. All four of them scrambled to gather their things, maybe sneak a last bite or two, in Lance and Astrea’s case. Naoya walks behind the man and looks back to his companions with a fearful expression, which is met with small smiles and thumbs up, trying to reassure his safety.

He did not feel reassured at all.