A solemn ceremony it was; having only one sole purpose: a sense of longing… and by utilizing gifts and flattery as means of attempting to achieve the favor of the unknown entities, of transcendent beings, for the conscious of attainable existence such as humans—they had a tendency to look for a part of the explainable conclusions, and the power that gods possessed were—strictly speaking—that of the natural order that was derived from gods themselves as the originator of nature of all. Becoming part of human societies, hence born of such activities… of worship, rites, and sacraments… that were being used in a technical sense for a repetitive behavior systematically used by those humans to neutralize anxiety – believing that their feeble existence would be sheltered under the wings of the divine entities, thus craving to earn a response for their mere presence,
Ergo 'apple polishing', sacrificing special gestures and words, reciting fixed texts… the enactment of religious music, songs and dances… processions, manipulation of certain objects, the use of notable dresses, consumption of particular food, drink, and drugs since there were hardly any limits to the kind of actions that may be incorporated into a solemn ritual,
Basically in a style that was quite a deviant approach of the antichrist consuetudinary… but the human blood that was poured which happened right now… as a debauched endeavor intended to either please or appease those who opposed the divine edification,
"Like staring at a devil's altar… such a depraved indifference to human life sure could only be accomplished by the damned kin."
A mark of stratagem, whose motives were not unknowable, had been printed before the Holy Knight in a form of ghastly runes which had been completed by quite repulsive offerings delivering evil omens and dark portents,
The 'where' was on top of the floor of this mansion basking in the azure light of the moon—basking as well was this very room through a large single window overlooking the dense forest and the nightglow,
Situated at the end of the corridor, this large room was promoted to be a silent witness of a horror. A massacre, yet not any kind of massacre, but a rite of passage that lead to a magnificent welcome to a devil… with blood and flesh as the deadly wager,
On a flat wooden surface, layers of thick now-frozen blood covered almost the entire room with its blackish crimson shade if not thanks to the azure light of the moon that diminished its strong hue, yet unfortunately incapable of lessening the odor of the blood… the coppery scent of the fresh blood stung anyone's nose once they entered this sacrificial chamber, overpowering the oxygen accumulated for breathing,
The victims counted were three,
An adult male and female, and their only son. A cohort of an entire small noble family was laying on the bloodstained wooden floor, perfectly placed in the center of seemingly handwritten runes. Written using melted wax to create a huge circle across the wooden floor, and filling its outer circle with cryptic alphabet unknown to men and unreadable to many except those with exceptional pedagogy who were given the ability to read the 'Message of Satan' imprisoning the horror in its center,
Lying while facing the high ceiling, both the adults—the father and the mother—suffered the same ill bearings: vicious-looking wounds and bruises, marking an inhuman torture on the whole of their bodies,
Every bone that made up their lower limbs was crushed into filth unyielding mixture of pus and blood oozing out of the open wounds, maiming their dominant limbs that were being used to move the upper body, hence it would've likely prevented them from escaping their own inexorable demise. Not to mention a pair of rusty iron nails impaled their deformed legs all the way through the swollen cold and pale skin pinned to the wooden floor, immobilizing them even more,
Noticing the same pattern upon further inspection, the Holy Knight saw their palms were also receiving similar inhuman treatment with every single fingernail torn out no doubt causing horrendous pain,
Compared to that tiny sore however, it wasn't the major source of those facial expressions they generated,
Their eyes were wide open as if the eyelids were skinned to the bone—or in this case, skinned to the eyeball—exposing their white pale eyeballs without the existence of an iris, for it was disinserted as though getting gouged out of the inner wall of the eye. The iris simply appeared to have collapsed; it tore at the top, and kinda 'coming down' due to gravity and caused by a strong pressure to the very tendon attached to the sclera. The color specially owned by the iris was no more but a deep black on top of white eyeballs. The stiffness became apparent on the facial muscles, indicating rigor mortis had taken its role of timing the last breath they stored and perpetuating the horror on their faces: gaping mouths with the absence of their tongues,
They might be able to scream, raising their screech for help or mercy, yet still unable to voice a single word from it, because the hearts were ripped out too, and the rib cages had been burst open, unmasking the pleura hidden beneath the skin and bones… no wonder screaming was the primordial reaction to such an 'external response'
Or so the Holy Knight thought… prior to notice yet another inhuman treatment to the dead couple. A huge corroded iron nail had evidently impaled each of their throat cavity, ravaging the seven bones of the neck as well as the vocal cords unfortunately, forcing the couple to bear all these pains without having the freedom to scream all of their might until ran out a blast of air inside their deflated lungs,
Betwixt the dead couple, their only son was lying down too with the same pose, staring at the high ceiling with closed eyes as if he was sleeping on the crimson bed as the hands neatly placed on his epigastrium and holding each other. Compared to those that happened to his parent, his fate however, one could say it was more… humane… with a quick death implementation of a single gentle thrust of a dagger toward his tiny heart,
But nevertheless, nothing so humane in murder and mayhem.
The Holy Knight then took a step approach, without any hesitancy nor fear, he kneeled down to the horror. It wasn't anger at a moment, but rather an empathy… a sentimental emotion for the victims. Slowly drew his black greatsword and placed it next to the resting family on a wooden floor moist because of their dried blood. He opened his right silver-plated palm, moving it to his armored left chest as if giving the last prayer and final tribute for them,
A solemn murmur then came out of mouth beneath the silver helmet which only he could hear,
"In this life, thou embraced them with thy tender love; deliver them now from every evil and bid them eternal rest, for the Old Order hast passed away. May the Light of Tomorrow welcome them into Paradise, where there will be no sorrow, no weeping or pain, but fullness of peace and joy with the Holy Spirit… forever and ever…"
The quietude swathed the atmosphere with its every layer of shadow and solitude. The chamber of sacrifice soaked in the azure moon, beholding the silver figure whose armor was shining and praying for the departed – keeping that way for a moment,
When the prayer had been heard and their souls may now rest easy in grace and love, the silver figure stood up once again on his own feet, leaving the stygian relic of the greatsword in place – drowned inside a crimson layer of the dried blood. He turned and stared at a man who was hiding behind the shadowy corner of the room, for his feet were trembled… witnessing the horror right before his very eyes for the second time apparently still leaving a strong impact in his mind and heart,
"Without the need to ask, surely anyone could comprehend it," the Holy Knight, Kharys Neveta, began to speak up toward his only interlocutor who appeared uneasy… but who was he to blame, "Even myself would doubt that someone could perform such a revolting stage if I didn't witness it with my own eyes."
"It happened so fast that I would likely forget if I didn't dare myself to look at the horror," the man in the shadow slowly showed his existence by using a 'ballad of the gloomy nocturne' he encountered a few hours prior, "Dusk was falling rapidly at that time, and when the sun had disappeared within the shadow of the forest, a few maidens were expected had gone home, yet no sign of them whatsoever. The villagers became a bit worried, for the landlord was known for his violent approach when a trespasser violated his privacy at a specific time. Therefore, a few men, myself included, were off to look for the maidens… only to find them standing in the front garden with gazes filled with fear."
"They were gazing at this bloodstained window, weren't they?"
Kharys interrupted, standing near the window in question overlooking the front garden. And as he claimed, a darker, rust-colored bloodstain indeed tainted almost the entire surface of the window glass with its oxygenated yet desiccated natural dye,
Situated right at the opposite side of the larger one that was overlooking the dense forest, this fixed window was attached to the wall without any closing or opening operation but only as a path for the light to illuminate the room which served as well as a place of observation for the landlord, judging from his large desk that was placed near to it… a large desk and one throne-like chair… which oddly enough were the only furniture available in such a huge room, besides the bookshelves that was placed on every sides of the room containing countless of books in many breadth and width,
While listening to the Head Villager's story, Kharys apparently had been scanning the entire room where the sacrificial ritual just happened. Given the size, any available free space and a minimal number of usable furniture but a large quantity of collected books… he instantly knew that the sacrificial chamber was also part of his private office where only a selected few who were given consent to enter the room. His premise then acquired another support, following the action of examination he conducted toward the said desk where he found papers and documents as well the deceased's logbook containing important events in the management and operation… all being handwritten in such precise and detailed information, utilizing the iron-gall ink,
"As you have guessed, Lord Kharys. You are right." the head villager continued his past story, "Rushing immediately to this very room where we then could witness the same horrifying sight. Some of us who didn't have a strong stomach to bear it, were vomiting uncontrollably and panic reigned the atmosphere in an instant. In the midst of precarious nuance, through that large window, we were able to perceive a horned figure in the distance of the dense forest… standing leisurely in the air… bathing under the moonlight."
"For someone who already faced the devil herself, I can confirm that she does have quite a unique ability to stand on any type of surface and medium – and air is not an exception. The horned figure you saw was undeniably the devil I fought not long ago."
Kharys gave his response yet once again, surveying while listening. The large bookshelves that were positioned across every side of the room became his main objective. Picking up the innumerable books one by one, opening it and then turning the the first few pages before putting it back in its original place. Seemingly at random, he was doing it not without significant purpose however. He only selected a few books from a bookshelf containing books that weren't properly ordered, especially its numerical order,
Until he found one peculiar book in which he perceived and was a bit more cautious while reading it,
And then silence once again struck the room, nothing but a rustling sound of pages turning back and forth which could be heard,
And short moment had then passed, and the flutter of the turning pages had stopped as the silver figure put the book back in its place before walking toward his black greatsword still lying on the wooden floor and remarking simple statements in a frisky tone, at which the head villager seemed bewildered to answer,
"But you do have a very good eyesight, Head Villager, to realize that the devil's feet were placed flat in the air in that distance. Most people who saw any figure in the air would tend to refer to them as 'flying' or maybe 'floating', rarely 'standing'. Even myself need to get closer to realize her true ability… let alone those who were witnessing it from afar."
The head villager seemed a bit nervous when being struck with such a question all of a sudden, having no idea what fitting words to reply. Even after the Stygian Greatsword was already in the grasp of the Holy Knight, no sign the head villager would begin to speak up any time soon. Hence the Holy Knight continued with his bold statements, unwilling to waste a second,
"Except you've been observing this devil for quite some time, in an attempt to succeed your scheme to murder Lord Yindas. Am I wrong, Head Villager Heerys?"