Demon Hunters

The Inquisitor XII

Lucas breathed in the crisp, cool air. At this point, it was clear that Lucas that blood would flow this night. The thought of ending the life of his former subordinates did not sit right with the inquisitor, especially now that he was starting to accept the gravity of his past actions. Still, he recognized that the others would probably shoot him on sight to save their own hides since they had committed a blatant act of insubordination. Add to that the cruelty they had shown against the locals, and Lucas knew that he had no choice but to end them. He looked up at the sky, which was completely dark by now. The moon lit the dark forest through which he and his guide were drudging their way through, though this light was intermittently blocked by thick clouds at which point only the faint glow of the villager's lantern lit the way. An errant raindrop landed on Lucas, heralding the arrival of its siblings. The inquisitor didn't mind – in fact, the rain would provide him cover.

"So... There are six inquisitors left in the village, correct? No new inquisitors have entered the village?" Lucas asked.

The villager was startled by the sudden question.

"I... Yes! I didn't lie to you, I swear!"

"I was not doubting you, merely confirming something," Lucas replied, shaking his head in exasperation.

He did not much enjoy how the villager acted around him, though he could understand the sentiment – even more so when he considered what had happened at the village in the past few days.

I suppose it is not surprising that Klaus is yet to return... And won't be returning for some time, I'd wager. It is also good to know that he has nothing to do with this travesty, Lucas thought as the two made their way through the dark forest.

As the two traipsed through the darkness, Lucas's mind was, much to his displeasure, filled with memories of his past. Memories from when he but a small child, embraced by the nun who had taken him in... Of his training, of his first mission. It took all of his willpower to force the surge of recollections. He bit his tooth. Getting sentimental would only make him feel worse. He had just accepted that the reality of the situation, so wrapping himself up in warm memories of the past was a foolish thing to do – everything that could somehow weaken his resolve was not worth thinking about at this point.

As soon as I take care of this situation, I will return home – and make sure that heads will roll! he thought to himself.

However, self-doubt immediately filled his mind. How would he achieve this? How could he possibly hope to fight against an institution as strong and as deeply woven into society as the church? He had witnessed first-hand how despicable and ruthless the ones holding power could be? What hope did he possibly have against such an immense and formless opponent? Mercifully, their destination came to view before Lucas could explore the depths of his despair any further. The inquisitor stopped at the very edge of the forest and surveyed the village. Though the heavy rain obscured most of the village, Lucas could clearly see columns of smoke emanating all over the area. Even more distressing, however, were the screams that echoed from the direction of the inquisitor's camp.

"Oh no... They must have grabbed the women and children as hostages!" the villager gasped, tearing at his hair.

"Figures," Lucas growled, reaching for the vial Matthew had handed him.

He knocked the cap off and drank the concoction in one long swig. The liquid tasted vile, intensely bitter, but its effect was almost immediate. All pain and fatigue vanished from Lucas's body, and he could feel a faint sense of euphoria take hold over him.

Well, at least he didn't poison me, he thought as he observed the village.

"Find a place to hide. If I fail, go and find the shaman," he growled.