Finally. Jack was finally back to civilization.
He had spent several days exploring the wilderness. He had floated above a clear lake and many rivers, watching wild fish and water flow. He had wandered in an exuberant forest, enjoying green sight and natural life.
He considered that a vacation. One he needed to be completely restored. One he needed before he regained his original, healthy mindset.
But now, he was already back to civilization. He was ready to learn new experience. He was ready to be the Harbinger of Vengeance again. To deliver fitting nightmarish punishment to the guilty.
And Asquall Village, the first settlement he encountered, would be his starting place.
Jack observed the settlement. Asquall Village reeked of desperation and coal smoke. It was not exactly the country-side he imagined.
It was not the natural and peaceful farming village. It was way worse than the fresh nature he had just explored a few days prior.
In the village, the air hung thick. It was like a gritty blanket that coated everything. It made everything gloomier and much more miserable.
He looked further and felt further disappointment. The stunted crops in the unkempt fields. The drab, weary faces of the villagers. The brownish leaves on the few remaining trees. It did feel like a scene from the story of misery.
Jack noticed three hulking factories dominating the horizon. Their chimneys belching black plumes that stained the sky. Progress, apparently, came with a generous dose of poison.
Jack, still unseen, drifted through the village. The spectral chill of his presence went unnoticed.
He saw the hollow eyes of the farmers. They must be remembering better harvests in the past. Now, the land was choked by the polluted water trickling from the factories.
He saw the gaunt and pale faces of the young men and women. They went filing into the factories before dawn and out after dusk. They traded their health for a pittance.
...
Jack spent a few more days to get familiar with the village. His impression did not get any better though. He observed many things. Some were stranger than the others. But he still felt that this was a village of misery.
He wandered past the village square. The Church of Prosperity stood dilapidated at the edge of the square. Its stained-glass windows were cracked. The paint was peeled from its wooden frame.
Inside, as usual, Father Lucca slumped in a pew. A bottle of something dark and potent was clutched in his hand. The stench of cheap liquor fought a losing battle against the musty smell of neglect.
Jack stayed away from the seemingly pathetic man though. He sensed the priest's supernatural aura - a strong, but muddied, power. There must have been a hidden secret, buried deep under the layers of his despair.
But Jack didn't want to find out. Anyone could have secrets, fine. As long as they didn't harm others,.
Jack moved on. On the dirt road, he saw Elder Figmount Kinderman. He was the village chief, a portly man with a perpetually worried expression. He greeted everyone he met with a weary smile. He always showed a platitude about weathering the storm.
The villagers, despite their hardships, seemed to genuinely respect him. They clung to him as a symbol of stability.
Jack, however, saw a flicker of something else in the elder's eyes. He saw a calculated calm, a carefully constructed façade.
The chief's supernatural aura was also strong. It was fainter than the priest's. But it was sharper, more focused.
Jack kept wandering. Further away from the village, he could see a small cottage, surrounded by a riot of herbs and flowers. It was the home of one other character he found interesting here. It was the home of Amaranth White.
Amaranth White was young, barely out of her teens. However, her eyes seemed to hold ancient knowledge.
Villagers came to her with their ailments. They sought remedies brewed from her garden. They accepted her help, yet whispered behind her back. They called her a witch, a heretic.
Jack noticed that among the three villagers with supernatural aura in the village, hers was the strongest. It was vibrant and earthy. It thrummed with untamed power.
Jack found her the most interesting of the lot. The villagers distrusted the only one with power to actually help them. Humans were dumb.
Days bled into one another.
Jack, in his invisible state, kept observing. He occasionally intervened with a dose of spectral mayhem.
An excessively arrogant factory foreman received a nightmare of being fired without any reason. A verbally abusive husband awoke at midnight to the chilling whisper of his deepest fears echoing in his ears.
It was just small things, petty things. But it was enough to keep the those guilty ones on edge.
But the village, as a whole, was too… decent. They were beaten down, exploited. But they hadn't succumbed to outright brutality. Their sins were small. Their desperation was understandable.
Jack found himself restless. He was the Harbinger of Vengeance. The creator of nightmares. The punisher of the wicked. Asquall Village, for all its misery, didn't need him.
He was about to leave. He was about to find a city festering with true evil. But then, the wagons arrived.
These wagons were black. They were emblazoned with the sigil of the Church Inquisition Force. A sword piercing a devil, encircled by an elliptic halo. They were the carriage for the Church Inquisitors.
The inquisitors themselves were grim-faced. They were clad in black uniforms. Their eyes were burning with zealous conviction.
Leading them was a man seemed to be carved from granite. His stern face always seemed like a mask of righteous fury.
A faith aura blazed around him. But, it was not the gentle warmth of genuine belief. It was a blinding, almost painful light of fanaticism.
The villagers gathered. Their faces showed a mixture of awe and dread. The Church Inquisition Force was a symbol of absolute authority. It was feared and respected in equal measure. Their arrival meant only one thing: heresy.
Jack felt a surge of morbid curiosity. He'd seen the workings of organized religion in his previous life. But this… this was different.
This was faith weaponized. It was belief twisted into a tool of oppression. He knew this also happened in his previous world. It seemed to mostly exist in the past though. He had never seen it in person.
Jack immediately abandoned his plans to leave. He was drawn in by the scent of impending chaos.
"I am Brother Elkey, the captain of Seventeenth Force of the Church Inquisition. By order of the Holy Trinity," the leader's voice boomed, echoing through the square. "We have come to cleanse this village of sin!"
Jack raised his non-existent eyebrow. Holy Trinity? Christianity?
No. That was not it. He quickly remembered that in this world, it was different. Here, Holy Trinity meant the cooperation of three orthodox churches: The Church of Justice, Church of Prosperity, and Church of Redemption.
Brother Elkey gestured towards Amaranth's cottage.
"Amaranth White," he declared. His voice was dripping with venom. "You are accused of witchcraft, of consorting with dark forces. Surrender yourself to the judgment of the Church!"
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Amaranth emerged from her cottage. Her face was pale but resolute. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched a small pouch filled with herbs.
Jack could feel her aura spiking. A surge of raw power was barely contained inside her body.
"I have done nothing wrong," she said. Her voice clear despite her fear. "I only heal the sick."
"Lies!" Brother Elkey spat. "You deal in forbidden knowledge, in pagan rituals. You are a danger to the souls of these good people."
He signaled to his inquisitors. They advanced. Their swords were drawn. Their faces were devoid of emotion.
Elder Kinderman stepped forward. His brow furrowed.
"Brother Elkey," he pleaded. "Amaranth is a good woman. She has helped so many in this village. Surely there is some mistake."
Brother Elkey fixed him with a withering stare. "Silence, Elder. Your leniency has allowed this heresy to fester. You will answer for your negligence later."
Jack felt a surge of anger. A familiar darkness was rising within him. He had never encountered a man like this Elkey. So unreasonable.
Accusing someone without even showing evidence. Not allowing anyone to defend themselves. This was injustice, plain and simple. He was ready, eager, to unleash his powers.
But something stopped him. He glanced at Father Lucca. He seemed to stand drunkenly. His body slumped against the church wall. His eyes looked wide with fear.
But, Jack saw the glint of metal hidden beneath his robe. It was a dagger, gripped so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
He looked at Elder Kinderman. He seemed to just stand there, paralyzed. But, his face was a mask of inner turmoil. He saw the faint tremors in his hands. He saw the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw.
And then he looked at Amaranth. Her eyes blazing with defiance and something else… realization? For a fleeting moment, she seemed to look directly at Elder Kinderman. A spark of understanding seemed to pass between them.
Jack realized these three villagers might not be as innocent as he'd thought. Something was brewing beneath the surface of Asquall Village.
It seemed to involve terrible secrets. It might be a conflict far deeper than a simple witch hunt.
This wasn't just about Amaranth. This was about something much bigger.
He grinned. Well, he was an invisible, faceless ghost. That expression would be something that no one could see.
The secret hidden in this village... Let's see what it was about.