0407 Slaughter Time

0407 Slaughter Time

Bryan turned his head to scan behind him, only to be met with a sea of mocking gazes.

The spectators rose to their feet one by one, their faces filled with amusement. Without a doubt, they had already chosen sides for the impending conflict.

These people, with their cold-blooded nature honed by years of dark deeds and darker magic, typically wouldn't bat an eye at disputes between 'locals.' It was an unspoken rule, a code of conduct in this den. But Golden Viper was an 'outsider,' a brash newcomer who had the audacity, the sheer gall, to waltz in and break their rules on his very first visit. If they didn't teach him a lesson, and a harsh one at that, word would spread like wildfire and The Soul Eater's Den would become a laughingstock.

The tall bartender stared at Bryan with a steely gaze. His voice, as cold and sharp as a blade of ice, cut through the tension-filled air. "Out of respect for Fawley," he growled, each word dripping with barely contained contempt, "Golden Viper—leave all your galleons here, and you can crawl out of here alive."

Across the room, the ugly wizard who had started this whole debacle grinned triumphantly, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light. The sense of urgency that had previously driven him seemed to evaporate like morning dew under a scorching sun. He was no longer in a rush to deal with this clueless fool who had dared to challenge him. Instead, a sadistic gleam entered his beady eyes as he savored the moment, relishing the impending downfall of the arrogant outsider.

With a sneer that twisted his already grotesque features into something truly nightmarish, he grabbed the Muggle girl by her hair, yanking her up from the ground. He then gripped her pale neck, forcing her to look at Golden Viper.

"There's an idiot here who wants to take you away, sweetheart," he crooned, his voice a sickening parody of affection. "Do you want to leave with him?"

"No..." the girl mumbled in a delirious voice, her mind still clouded, her gaze fixed adoringly on the disgusting face before her.

The ugly wizard's face split into a triumphant leer, his grip on the girl's slender waist tightening possessively. "Oh, did you hear that?" he crowed, his voice rising in pitch with malicious glee. "She doesn't want to leave with you!" He pulled the girl closer, her limp form offering no resistance as he manhandled her like a rag doll. With a look of pure malice, he added, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Now, let's watch what becomes of this fool!"

"What brings you here, outsider?" a voice came from behind a wooden partition that divided the hall.

"Well, you see—"

Even though he became the target of public criticism, Golden Viper didn't seem to realize that he was in trouble. His tone even carried a hint of amusement.

"I'm looking for a woman, a Druid, Word is, she was spotted here before, so I came to ask around—"

Before he could finish his explanation, another voice cut through the tense atmosphere. This one came from a burly wizard slouched against the bar, his face half-hidden by a tangled mass of beard.

"Why are you looking for this woman?" he interjected, his tone teasing but with an edge of cruelty. A mean-spirited grin appeared on his face as he added, "Is she your mother?"

The question, laden with mockery, was like a spark in a powder keg. It ignited an explosion of laughter that swept through the bar like wildfire. Many of the patrons laughed so hard that they lost their balance, toppling from their chairs to roll on the dirty floor, clutching their sides. Others slapped their hands against the scarred wooden tables, making glasses and bottles dance precariously.

Even the ugly wizard who had kidnapped the Muggle girl was caught up in the wave of hilarity. In his glee, he accidentally knocked over the vial of love potion that sat on the table before him. But in his amusement, he didn't seem to care, still laughing uproariously and slapping his thigh with such force that it echoed like gunshots in the crowded room.

Amidst the sea of laughter, the tall bartender remained stoic calm. His cold eyes, as hard and unforgiving as chips of ice, remained fixed on Bryan. "You're just embarrassing yourself, Viper—"

"Ah, you stinking lot—" Bryan shook his head resignedly.

For months now, Bryan had been living in the light keeping company with decent, law-abiding folks. It had been quite a while since he had last dealt with these filthy scums who lacked even basic morals. The stark contrast between his recent experiences and the current situation left him feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

As wave after wave of mockery continued to crash over him, Bryan tilted his head slightly, his eyes taking on a distant look as he pondered his next move. For a few seconds, he stood there, still as a statue. Then, he slowly raised his hand to remove the wide black hood from his head. A mane of soft, lustrous gray hair spilled out into the dim air. Unhurriedly, he unfastened the clasp at his neck and draped the black robe over his left arm.

The laughter that had filled the room just moments before had completely evaporated, replaced by a tense silence thick with anticipation and growing unease. Every eye in the place was fixed on Golden Viper, watching his unexpected actions with a mixture of confusion and wariness. In the minds of the onlookers, they were silently speculating what tricks this outsider might be playing.

A series of coughs broke the silence. "Ahem—Cough---Ahem." Bryan cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the hushed room. With each cough, a remarkable transformation seemed to occur – his voice grew younger.

He turned on the spot, his eyes sweeping across the room, observing and cataloging every reaction. Finally, his circuit complete, Bryan faced the ugly wizard who still held the entranced girl in his grasp. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, like a sandcastle being washed away by the incoming tide, the magical vortex that had been concealing his true features began to dissipate.

Until, about ten days into the past, Bryan's mental gaze froze. The rapid flow of images slowed to a crawl as he focused intently on a particular memory.

A woman had appeared in the Soul Eaters' Den on that day. But it wasn't Cliodna, the Druid that Bryan had been seeking.

Instead, the memory revealed a fat middle-aged witch dressed in what could only be described as normal, respectable clothes. She stood out like a sore thumb in the den of immorality.

She looked slightly confused, her brow furrowed and her eyes darting nervously around the room. It was clear that she was unsure of why she was there. But that uncertainty quickly gave way to fear as she took in her surroundings. The room was filled with the kind of individuals that haunted the nightmares of law-abiding citizens – dark wizards with cold eyes and cruel smiles, hags with gnarled hands and razor-sharp teeth, and creatures that defied easy classification.

What happened next was as predictable as it was horrifying. The witch, her face now a mask of terror, tried to leave in a panic. Her sudden movement drew every eye in the place, like predators sensing wounded prey. She fumbled for the door handle with her trembling hands but it was already too late.

In this lawless place, any sign of weakness was like blood in the water, and the denizens of the Soul Eater's Den were nothing if not sharks. Before the witch could reach the exit, she found herself restrained by a group of dark wizards who had moved with supernatural speed to intercept her.

Rough hands grabbed her arms, spinning her around to face the room. The witch's terrified whimpers were drowned out by the low, menacing chuckles that rippled through the crowd. The dark wizards examined their captive, their eyes roving over her body with a mixture of curiosity and malice. It was clear from their expressions that they were pondering how best to deal with this unexpected intruder, and none of the possibilities that flashed across their faces boded well for the unfortunate witch.

Just as the situation seemed to take an even darker turn, something unexpected happened. From an inconspicuous corner of the bar, a figure stirred. This newcomer had been so still, so unremarkable, that they had faded into the background, overlooked by everyone present. Now, as they rose to their feet, all eyes turned to them.

The figure was draped in an ordinary cloak, their head tightly wrapped in a scarf that obscured their face. Before anyone could react, before a single spell could be cast or a single threat uttered, the mysterious figure made their move. With a gesture so swift it was almost imperceptible; they conjured a grapevine staff out of thin air.

The tip of the staff erupted in a burst of emerald light so bright it momentarily blinded everyone in the room. As the patrons of the Soul Eater's Den blinked the spots from their eyes, they saw that a transformation had taken place.

The newcomer's cloak had fallen away, revealing elegant attire that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. But it was her hair that drew every eye in the room. Long, silky strands of green cascaded from beneath the scarf, flowing like living vines. The green tresses seemed to glow with an ethereal light, casting dancing shadows on the walls of the den.

The cold moon, full and luminous, had finally climbed to the center of the night sky, bathing the scene in its silvery light.

But the tranquility of the moonlit forest was shattered by a raging inferno. A massive fire had engulfed what appeared to be a building, its flames reaching so high they turned half the sky an angry, flickering white.

From within the all-consuming flames came the muffled sound of exploding walls and beam, along with faint, shrill screams.

In the firelight, the Muggle girl, kneeling on the ground dozens of feet away, finally regained a glimmer of clarity in her dazed eyes. The girl's mouth opened slightly, a look of stunned disbelief on her face as she stared at the intense flames. Slowly, as if in a trance, she struggled to her feet. Though not fully conscious, her instincts were beginning to kick in, and those instincts were screaming at her to run from the terrifying inferno before her.

She stumbled backward, her movements uncoordinated and jerky. In her dazed state, she failed to notice a stone protruding from the forest soil. Her heel caught on it, and with a startled cry, she tumbled backward.

"Ouch!" The sharp cry of pain cut through the night air as she landed hard on her backside. The sudden jolt and the spike of pain it caused served to further clear the fog from her mind. Grimacing, she struggled to push herself up, her hands scrabbling in the dirt and leaves of the forest floor.

As she fought to regain her feet, her gaze drifted upward, drawn almost against her will to a massive spruce tree that loomed nearby. What she saw there caused her newly cleared mind to freeze in horror.

Impaled on crude stone spears and nailed to the trunk of the ancient spruce were... heads. But these were no ordinary trophies of some mad hunter. These were human heads, or what remained of them. Each one had been charred beyond recognition, the flesh blackened and cracked, barely clinging to the skull beneath.

Despite the extensive damage, the faces of the deceased were still horribly recognizable as human. Their features were frozen in expressions of terror, seemed to be the final testament to the horror they had experienced in their last moments of life.

The sight was too much for the young girl's fragile psyche to handle. A piercing scream tore from her throat, filled with all the fear and horror that had been building since she first regained consciousness. The sound echoed through the forest, drowning out even the roar of the nearby inferno.

In a nearby Muggle village, the scream did not go unnoticed. Residents who had been preparing to battle what they assumed was a simple forest fire quickened their pace.

Among the towering trees standing in neat rows, two points of deep purple light vanished into the deep darkness.

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