Chương 137: The Start of Something

Bishop Sokólski sat in his office in the Cathedral Basilica of the Holy Eye. It was the tallest landmark in Opole by a wide margin. In fact, it was the tallest in the entire region, and its two distinctive towers dominated the city's skyline. Befitting of a house of prayer to Stvora. Befitting of a man of Sokólski stature. He reviewed the reports spread across his desk, each one more disturbing than the last. That damned witch still hasn't been caught.

Sightings of her are everywhere, suggesting either instant long-distance teleportation or an entire coordinated coven. Efforts to study her have proven fruitless thus far. The range of reported abilities do not match the Graecian claim of a simple curse class. The variety of abilities lend credence to there being multiple witches as opposed to just the single one. He pulled out the report by Sebek Zalevski, the only one who appeared to be able to survive his encounters with the witch.

Perhaps he was uniquely blessed by Stvora. Perhaps the witch let him survive, just to play mind games with him. With all of them. Anger mixed with fear rose up in his gut. He took several steadying breaths and the unpleasant feeling lessened, but he did not manage to fully push it down. This is what she wants, Tadeusz, don't let her get to you. This is how these abominations operate. They get inside your mind and poison it.

They can sense every sliver of weakness and will latch onto it and pull on it and infect it and blow it up until it is all that you think about, all that you are. He forced himself to read the report again. Marcin had opted to send Sebek with Milena, deviating from Sokólski's original plan to send Milena by herself. Perhaps he had thought Milena too volatile. Perhaps he had been right. Either way, Sebek's report matched Milena's on every point, with the main difference being that Sebek went in far greater detail.

Marcin had made the right choice. According to the report, when they arrived at the dungeon it had already been cleared. Hecate—if that was even her real name—must have gotten there before they did. Not a single monster had been left alive. After exiting the dungeon, Milena and Sebek returned to town, only to find that the squad that had been sent had not just been eliminated, but there was nothing left to suggest they had ever been there besides ash and bloodstains in the dirt.

They had been so utterly destroyed that there simply were no bodies left. This witch must be far more powerful than they had been let to believe. A single person taking out not just an entire dungeon, but also a squad of eight inquisitors… that had not happened before during Sokólski's lifetime. At least not that he knew of. The squad leader was Bogumir Landa, a powerful [Reclaimer]. While Sokólski hadn't known the man personally, he did know of the man's reputation of being nigh immortal.

He was the only survivor of the Radkov Incident, or the Radkov Massacre, depending who you asked. He had been a scriptor then, so he must have been a formidable warrior even before gaining his extremely rare class—most members of the Landa family were. And yet, she had managed to end not just him, but his entire eight-man team, in mere seconds, if the reports were to be believed. The eye witness reports had conflicting information. Some said Hecate used pistols to end them. Others said she breathed fire.

One of them even claimed she was made of fire, and that anyone who even dared think negatively about her had simply burst into flame and died. Preposterous… or was it? The only thing that they all agreed on was that nothing had managed to scathe her, as though she were impervious to damage. Sokólski shuddered, then immediately sat up straight.

"Get ahold of yourself, Tadeusz," he scolded himself.

"Don't let this demon inside of your mind." It was said she was now traveling with a companion, though her companion was thought to be classless and had not participated in any of the fighting. Could she be recruiting children on the cusp of awakening? Was it her intention to start or grow a coven? If she hadn't already. What could be her end goal? This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. He grabbed another report.

Stories of the Swamp Devil continued to spread and evolve. Some even said the Church had planted the Swamp Devil. Others claimed that there had never been a Swamp Devil at all, but that it was the Church who had been stealing babies in the night for their own nefarious purposes. The bishop swallowed. How could one person, one girl, seed so much chaos? Perhaps his first instinct had been right. Perhaps she really was Bies, returned for vengeance.

She did match her physical description perfectly, and this combined with her youthful appearance and suggested power far beyond her apparent years... Yes, that sounded exactly like Bies. It would not be far fetched to believe that Bies had set up contingencies in case something happened to her. Something that would allow her to lay dormant until she regained enough strength to return somehow. She was a witch, after all.

Just because you destroyed one body did not guarantee she did not have a hundred others lying in wait. Was that what was happening? Was that why she appeared to be everywhere at once? Had she faked her defeat and had she been planning her return all this time? Had they been deceived? When he glanced down he realized his hands had balled into fists. The report he had been holding had been crushed into a ball, and his knuckles were white.

He tossed the ball of paper on his desk and forced himself to breathe slowly once more. You are in control, Tadeusz. She will not come for you. Even if she did, she cannot get you here. Not in Opole. She wouldn't dare. Shakily, he grabbed another report. People had begun calling her Saint Hecate now. Not many, but the fact that it happened at all was alarming. The Church would have to smother this flame before it could turn into a fire and spread further than it already had.

They would have to seed fear and doubt, destroy her reputation. He thought he already had, but apparently it hadn't been enough. Everywhere she showed up she seemed to perform miracles and selfless acts of kindness. Who would believe she was a demon when they saw her revive a loved one with their own eyes? Perhaps some false flag attacks were in order, just to give people something tangible to feed their hatred and suspicion. He grabbed the final report, almost afraid to read it.

The words seemed to swim before his eyes. Rumors were spreading that inquisitors could be harvested for power. That their body parts could be used to enhance one's skills. Some claimed that if you offered the head of an inquisitor to Hecate, that she would grant you blessings beyond what even Stvora could provide. That it would make you stronger, faster, more powerful than any Church blessing ever could. The implications were staggering.

If people believed this—if they truly believed that killing an inquisitor could grant them power—then the Church's elite forces would go from being the hunters to the hunted. They would become prey. Raw materials for her followers to slaughter and harvest. Thankfully, just two attacks on inquisitors had been reported. Both unsuccessful. But still, was this the start of something? Had the populace begun to lose their fear of the Church? Their fear of Stvora?

How was it possible that a single woman had been able to shake their centuries-old dominion on Silesia? Had the Church grown complacent? How many more would be tempted? How many desperate, ambitious souls would see an inquisitor and not think of Stvora, but of personal gain? How long until they would think to come for him? A bishop was above the inquisition, after all. It would make sense for them to assume that he would grant them power beyond even what an inquisitor could provide. Should I raise the bounty? No.

One million gold had already been a mistake. Now everyone was talking about her, and the sheer size of the reward had scared a lot of people. In his fear for his life, the witch had managed to make him slip up. One rash decision had resulted in the opposite of what he wanted to happen. He would not make the same mistake twice. He looked down at his hands and realized he was trembling severely. His heart pounded in his ears and he found it difficult to breathe.

He put down the parchment and saw it was covered in sweat. He was covered in sweat. His vision blurred for a moment. He wiped his sleeve on his forehead. Get control of yourself. He forced himself to stand, gripping the edge of his desk. The wood felt solid and real. He was in his office. In Opole. Behind walls that had stood for centuries. Protected by dozens of priests and inquisitors loyal to Stvora. She cannot reach you here. But even as he thought it, doubt crept in.

She had single-handedly cleared that dungeon. She had single-handedly eliminated a squad led by someone who was thought to be immortal. He knew for a fact she had killed the Swamp Devil. She appeared to be everywhere at once. What were walls to someone like that? A knock at the door made him flinch.

"Enter," he said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded.