Connor couldn't do anything about it, as his face was smashed into a giant rock, so painful that he couldn't move for a moment. Seizing the opportunity, the nearby villagers grabbed him and carried him back to the centre of the field. On the other side, there were people busy decorating the ground with some kind of complicated symbols. Although he had never learnt it, Connor understood that it was a symbol commonly used for spiritual activities.
Both arms and legs were spread wide over the symbol, then nailed through the flesh and down the other side. The young man screamed in pain, a pain he hadn't felt since he was born. Tears were shed again, only he could not bear to be used as a ritual or experiment by his own friends.
The villagers applauded and showed the face of happiness they had been waiting for. It was like getting out of the circle of death and from this moment onwards their lives were no longer adorned with misery and futile deaths. One of them claimed to be a witch. Unfortunately, Connor had never seen that person before.
'Bloody hell. What kind of witch uses a sword as a wand.' Worthy of contempt and ridicule but he was aware of his current position.
The villagers left all these rituals and activities to the witch. Firstly, they were ordered to spit saliva right in Connor's face. Saliva is considered an expression of the villagers' hope and loyalty to the village and its leader. No one objected and happily carried out the witch's order. Even his own friend spit it three times, in response to the punches and kicks that left him spitting blood.
As a victim, the young man could not fight back, only scream, though no one heard or helped. After taking turns spitting on Connor, they also received orders to urinate on the future village leader. Most refused because no matter how devastated their village was, honour and dignity were above all else. In the end, the number of those interested had exceeded the ritual's legal requirements by a small margin.
***
Connor could feel a disgusting smell and something sticky on his body. Ever since the saliva was spat onto his face, Connor held his breath long enough to be unable to hold it any longer than this. Until now he didn't understand why this kind of thing had to happen to him while his pursuit of his friend was nothing but to avenge his father's death.
His face was bruised after the witch repeatedly stomped and plunged her sword into his vital parts, so that his consciousness would fall asleep and the ritual could take place without resistance. A glimpse of his myopic vision shows an incident when he and his family were enjoying a holiday for his father's success in bringing their village out of the doldrums.
Connor remembered every face of the villagers who were so grateful to his father. But those memories disappeared quite quickly after a spell was cast by the witch. Despite her appearance as a fake witch, Connor was surprised that there was almost no hesitation on the faces of the villagers and the witch for the smooth running of the ritual.
The sword in his hand was held up, still chanting a spell that Connor and the villagers didn't understand at all. But all opinions and doubts disappeared when the tip of the sword began to emit a dark purple light. His eyes were fixed on the light trying to imagine what was about to happen to him.
"Raise your hands and pour out your hopes to the Lord!"
The fake witch commanded the citizens. Confusion and panic briefly broke their focus, then each raised their hands while muttering a hope that would bring their village back to its former glory.
In the next few seconds, the light at the tip of the sword darkens to black. According to Connor, the colour black is not a philosophy that can bring hope and happiness, but darkness and destruction. Realising this ritual was leading to more misery, Connor spoke up.
"Stop it, all of you! He is an imposter! What he does will not prioritise your hopes! All will be..." his words trailed off as the fake witch plunged the sword right into his heart. Connor's screams intensified, feeling like his life was about to end in a matter of minutes.
The witch momentarily clucked her tongue, a look of sudden unease on her face. For a moment, he averted his eyes, watching to see if any of the villagers were beginning to waver and believe the young man's words. Unfortunately, luck was still on the fake witch's side.
'Damn it. How does this guy know that this ritual is just nonsense? I must shut his mouth immediately.'
The dark light at the tip of the witch's sword began to spread throughout the body. Darkness slowly enveloped Connor's body until no one could see his form. But what the victim felt was a complete and rapid physical change. His body slowly shrank and several other wounds followed, as well as an unpleasant smell.
The villagers, who were forced to close their eyes, still remained unperturbed by the screams and the foul odour that stabbed their noses. After all, they had more faith in the orders of the witch they had summoned than the son of the previous village chief.
With great confidence, Connor kept thinking of the bad possibilities he would experience even though death was not the end of the ritual. His eyes darted around as his hands and feet began to develop large lumps. Halfway through the ritual, a clanking noise interrupted everyone's hearing.
For the first time, the villagers opened their eyes and saw a lot of white powder around their feet. Those who didn't know anything about it, spontaneously panicked and got confused. From the sky appeared another young man who blew a strong wind towards the field, causing the white powder to scatter even more and messing up their breathing and vision.
"What the hell? Why is everything white?"
"Help, my eyes! My eyes are burning! It's so hot, so hot!" one of the villagers closed his eyes too late when the white powder started scattering in the air. The next second, he was unconscious and died on the spot as his brain clotted and all his cells and nerves malfunctioned.
Connor, who did not open his eyes because of the pain, was immediately carried away by the stranger. Removing the nails stuck in his hands and feet, he carried him away.
"Thank you. I don't know what happened. I just feel like I'm free." Connor shed another tear to express his joy.
"No problem. I just happened to be passing through here and couldn't bear to watch innocent people being tortured. You're lucky, young man... I mean, sir."