In this world, forms of entertainment were scarce, or rather, the common folk had few means of amusement. Once night fell, most people obediently retired to their homes to sleep.
Roya City enforced a curfew, allowing only Church monks and military personnel to be out after dark. Of course, there were occasional exceptions, such as during special festivals or when a public burning was being carried out. On these occasions, the streets were opened to the common folk, who gathered in droves, drawn by the scent of roasting meat in all its forms, to revel in the festivities.
After fetching water, Adam returned home only to hear Maggie calling his name.
"Don't go buy the pickled pastries today. Help me make more meat pies instead; we should be able to sell quite a bit tonight." The Boku family was not wealthy, and their income mainly came from selling pickled pastries and the wooden items crafted by Alis. Occasionally, the couple would take on odd jobs to make ends meet.
In a world where the common folk struggled for survival, any free time at night was considered a moment for celebration. Few would care about the identity of the person being burned alive on the pyre.
For the more industrious Maggie, with the curfew lifted tonight, it would be easier to sell meat pies and other snacks, but she was indifferent to other matters.
Adam, on the other hand, found the person on the pyre intriguing. After all, they were among those the Church referred to as "beasts."
He believed that he was not the only otherworldly being seeking to cross the Roya walls into the Kingdom of Loken. Thus, he reasoned, there must be many more such beings hidden within the city. If he could encounter them, perhaps there would be more options for him, although he had yet to devise a plan for how to approach them. He wondered if any of them would attend the execution.
Placing the meat pies into the woven basket, Adam noticed the twilight had deepened, and the sky had turned dark. Alis and Maggie were ready, each holding a basket, with Lina trailing behind them as they made their way to the street corner.
The streets were already crowded with people, some in small groups, gossiping cheerfully about the neighborhood's latest happenings, the atmosphere warm and harmonious.
As Adam walked, he noticed some soldiers mingling in the crowd, maintaining order, their eyes scanning for something in particular.
Seeing this, Adam realized that the chance of encountering another "beast" was slim. After all, not every otherworldly being could blend in with humanity as seamlessly as he did.
Under the Church's scrutinizing gaze, most such beings could not conceal their anomalies. For example, werewolves were vulnerable to silver. In his transformed state, Adam's regenerative abilities were extraordinary—wounds would heal almost instantly, blood only spurting from a wound briefly before the flesh began to mend.
However, if the wound was inflicted by a silver weapon, his healing would be suppressed, and the wound would become poisoned. Even a human-born werewolf would burn when touched by silver, which is why many constables carried silver items, making it difficult for werewolves to remain undetected.
"I doubt any otherworldly beings will show up tonight," Adam thought, not too disappointed. He had little experience interacting with his kind, his knowledge of them coming solely from books.
In situations where his strength was insufficient, it was not wise to recklessly engage with otherworldly beings.
Soon, the sky darkened entirely, and the crowd began to converge at the street corner.
As numerous torches illuminated the area, Adam's face flickered with shifting shadows. Perhaps, one day, he, too, would be tied to the pyre, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers.
The air was filled with a mix of scents, but when the figure wrapped in a burlap sack was brought forward, Adam caught the distinct smell of herbs.
"A witch doctor?" Adam frowned. Witch doctors were considered a gray profession, primarily practiced by humans who used strange materials to concoct various potions. The Church monks often turned a blind eye to them, as their concoctions proved effective.
Typically, only the most heinous of individuals would be condemned to the pyre, and witch doctors usually didn't reach that point—unless their humanity had been stripped away.
As the soldiers bound the suspected witch doctor to the wooden frame, a white-bearded monk in robes stood before the pyre, beginning to pronounce the criminal's charges.
"Criminal Butis, for brewing demonic potions through nefarious means, is found guilty by the South District Chapel and sentenced to the pyre!"
"Burn him! Burn him!" The crowd erupted into a frenzy once the sentence was read.
The man tied to the pyre struggled, but already, a monk had approached with a torch in hand, preparing to ignite the flames.
Adam, hidden among the crowd, watched the flickering flames of the torch and suppressed the strange feeling rising within him. He joined the crowd in their cries of excitement.
As the attention of the onlookers shifted to the torch, Adam noticed someone break free from the crowd.
A man with eyes glowing green pushed his way through the throngs. As he leapt forward, dark gray fur sprouted from his body, his face elongated into a snout, and his clothes tore as he transformed into a towering, human-shaped wolf. With a swipe of his massive hands, he cleared the people in his path and lunged toward the pyre.
For a fleeting moment, Adam felt a tremor in his blood, a stirring in his very being, as if he, too, could transform at any moment and howl in unison with the creature.
"Is my bloodline maturing? Does this mean my control over the transformation is weakening?" Adam wondered, his thoughts a mix of concern and curiosity.
The sudden eruption of the werewolf sent the crowd into a panic. As Adam prepared to scream with the rest of them, he heard the white-bearded monk's commanding voice.
"Calm down!"
His voice rang through the night like the sound of water dripping in a quiet room, filling the silence. The crowd, momentarily startled, immediately fell silent, as if under a spell.
The werewolf, seemingly unstoppable, was mere inches from the bound man when a young monk dashed forward, his ceremonial sword gleaming with golden light. The blade moved with precision, piercing the werewolf's throat.
The werewolf's body emitted thick, dark smoke, and with two final thrashes of its massive hands, it collapsed, dead at the feet of the pyre.
"Brother Fura," Adam muttered under his breath.
The young monk was none other than Fura, the one who had once shown such faith in Adam and had lent him the Divine Words.
Adam had not expected Fura to possess such strength. His gaze flickered briefly, then shifted to the werewolf's lifeless body, its eyes wide in an expression of despair.
From the werewolf's throat, black smoke billowed, and the body shrank rapidly, returning to its human form—a man wearing only shorts, his upper body bare.
Seeing the man's face, Adam lowered his head, unwilling to look directly at the corpse, though his lips betrayed a faint smile.
While he had once sympathized with the otherworldly beings, the despair in the man's eyes had sparked something else within him—a renewed sense of hope.
As Adam had suspected, most otherworldly beings could not hide their true nature. However, when facing the Church's relentless scrutiny, there were always ways to escape detection.
"The potions brewed by that witch doctor must have been designed to suppress their anomalies," Adam thought. He recognized the werewolf—the man had even bought pickled pastries from him before. At the time, Adam had never suspected he was a werewolf.
Adam had gathered much intelligence about the people he encountered, and this werewolf had been living in the South District for many years. Because of this, he hadn't fled when the witch doctor who sold anomaly-suppressing potions was arrested.
The werewolf had grown accustomed to life in the South District, and the thought of fleeing had become unbearable, which was why he had so desperately attacked the execution site.
Perhaps there were other ways to conceal their true nature, but for this werewolf, whose world had been shattered, it no longer mattered. His assault on the pyre had been nothing more than a plea for death.
Adam, however, saw an opportunity in this—a chance for himself. While he did not fully understand how to tap into his bloodline's power, he was highly familiar with how to hide its anomalies, especially through secret rituals.
"Those who lose their means of concealing their true nature and are unwilling to flee will certainly need a new protector."
"And I can be that protector!"
The execution proceeded as planned. The witch doctor, gagged and bound, did not disrupt the spectacle, and the aftermath of the werewolf's attack was swiftly dealt with by the monks' divine magic.
As Adam moved farther away from the pyre, selling his meat pies, he felt a growing sense of purpose.