Morgana: The Mother Of All-Chapter 265: Purge The Heretics, The Xenos!

"In the name of the sun and the holy light, I command..."

"PURGE THE HERETICS!! SLAY THE FILTHY XENOS!!"

A man in white-golden priest clothes stood on top of a marble platform in the middle of the street, wielding a giant golden staff with wings, shouting his order out. He was quite old, well past the age of fifty or sixty, with a gray mustache, yet his eyes shone with vitality and confidence.

A few feet below him, on another platform made from wood, were four figures—a man, a woman, and a small girl, all humans except the fourth one. He was a demi-human, a bear-kin to be precise. Each one was tied to a wooden pole, wearing only black robes with red X-cross marks on their chests and foreheads, a sign of heretics in this part of the land of the sun.

The crowd gathered in the city square, their voices rising in a chaotic blend of prayer, cheers, and curses. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, oil, and hot wax from the towering candles surrounding the execution platform.

Impending death.

Sunlight gleamed off the golden statues of winged female saints, casting long shadows over the condemned souls awaiting their fate.

The High Inquisitor, standing tall on the marble platform, struck the ground with his radiant staff, sending out a pulse of divine energy. The people's voices hushed as his presence commanded absolute attention.

"In the name of Uriel, the Ever-Burning, we cleanse this world of taint!" he declared, his deep voice carrying through the streets. "These wretched beings have turned their backs on the Holy Light! They consort with darkness! They spread corruption among the faithful!"

A chorus of agreement erupted from the mob.

"Sinners!"

"Burn them!"

"Purify their souls!"

The condemned remained silent. The human man clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing under the weight of his fate. The woman stood tall, her expression one of quiet defiance, even as fear flickered in her emerald eyes. The little girl, no older than ten, sobbed softly, her fragile body shaking as she tried to press herself against the pole as if willing herself to disappear.

And the bear-kin... he simply glared. His golden eyes burned with fury, his powerful arms straining against the bindings. His fur bristled as he bared his fangs, yet he did not roar, did not beg, did not break.

"We did nothing wrong!" he growled, his voice raw. "You call us heretics and Xenos, but you're the ones who've abandoned mercy!"

"Mercy? For heretics?" The High Inquisitor scoffed, waving his staff at the demi-human. "There is no mercy for the un-human like you Xenos. The grace of Uriel is only for the race of men."

"Uriel can eat a dick," the bear man replied with a wicked smirk on his face. He clearly did not care or give a shit about what the High Inquisitor and the crowd might think of him speaking ill of the holiest deity.

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"How dare you curse a Holy Goddess!" A fanatical follower screamed in anger at the beast-kin.

"How dare we?!" The bear-kin raised his voice, spitting venom at the mob. "How dare you throw these people here just because they helped me with my wounds? They are innocents!"

His words had no effect on the followers. Not a single hint of pity on their faces.

"Guilty!" Another joined, his finger pointing at the condemned, his tone desperate to put the blame on the poor demi-human.

"Heretic!"

"Filthy Xenos!"

"Kill him!"

"Heretics are enemies of Uriel, xenos or humans, innocent or guilty, every heathen is a threat to humanity!" The High Priest declared as his arm shot upwards. The white-golden sleeve slipped down his arm, revealing a tattooed pattern with some ancient holy glyphs and a depiction of a golden crown above equally golden wings.

"By the rightful order of our Holy Sun Church, the blessed Inquisitors, and through the burning Grace of our Goddess Uriel, I declare you all: GUILTY."

"Let your ashes serve as a warning!" the priest thundered. "No mercy for the impure! No quarter for the blasphemers. May the burning wings of Uriel cleanse us all!"

"Cleanse the heretics!"

"For Uriel! For the Holy Light!"

"Purge! Purge! Purge! Purge—"

The obedient and loyal followers of Uriel's church shouted, repeating the holy word over and over again, their hateful stares never leaving the execution's targets. The bear man closed his eyes as the templars started to lower a barrel full of oil over his head and back.

"Please, stop them, father."

The little girl's small, yet pleading voice echoed throughout the whole street, her plea reverberating with so much emotion and heartbreaking truth. She struggled in her bindings, trying desperately to break free. She opened her mouth, but no words came out except her desperate sobs.

"Father?" The High Inquisitor arched his brows at the small girl, gazing down at her.

"Mommy and Daddy can speak no more, little one." He paused. A grin crept on his aged, yet youthful face as he turned his focus on the gathered mob again, shouting:

"PURGE THEM IN HOLY FIRE! START WITH THE YOUNG ONE!"

The High Inquisitor's voice cracked like thunder as he thrust his golden staff forward. A templar stepped up, torch in hand, its flame dancing with holy fervor. The crowd's chanting reached a fevered pitch—

"PURGE! PURGE! PURGE!"

—and the flames flared to life.

"AHHHHHHH!"

The little girl let out a terrified scream as the flames roared to life, their light reflecting in her wide, tear-filled eyes. A chorus of delighted roars erupted from the spectators, a chorus of screams, and the sizzling, cracking noises of melting flesh and bubbling, blistering blood.

Her mother passed away just from seeing her daughter covered by fire, her spirit shattering into pieces as she slumped forward, her body going limp in the bindings. The light in her emerald eyes flickered—then faded—her heart, breaking so completely that even death was kinder, sparing her the agony of watching her daughter burn alive.

The man beside her let out a wordless cry of anguish, thrashing against his bindings, his face contorted in an agony no blade could match. The flames reflected in his tear-streaked eyes as his daughter's small body convulsed in the fire.

The scent of burning flesh thickened in the air. The crowd did not waver. Their cheers did not falter.

And the bear-kin man?

He couldn't watch, closing his eyes, blaming himself for this. If he wasn't stupid enough to chase that boar to the lake, he wouldn't have stumbled upon a horde of crocodiles, gotten wounded, and been found by the little girl's family.

His jaw clenched, muscles tensing under his thick fur. He had sworn never to let another die for his sake. Yet here he was, bound, helpless, forced to listen to the sickening crackle of burning flesh and the maddened cheers of zealots.

The scent of charred meat and blackened bone filled his lungs, mixing with the oil drenching his own fur.

It should have been him first.

Not the little girl.

Not her parents.

The High Inquisitor, his golden robes shimmering in the sunlight, turned his gaze back to the remaining condemned.

"See, Xeno?" he called out, spreading his arms as if to embrace the crowd's worship. "This is what happens when you stray from the light of Uriel! This is what awaits all who dare to defy the Holy Sun Church!"

The mob erupted in cheers, emboldened by the High Inquisitor's words. The priest gestured toward the father.

"Continue the purge!" he ordered.

A templar stepped forward, torch in hand.

"Any last words, Xeno?" the inquisitor sneered, pointing his golden staff at the demi-human's head.

"Last words..." the bear-kin muttered, gritting his teeth as the first drops of oil fell onto his fur, sizzling softly against his burning rage, his spirit. He held on, refusing to scream, refusing to break, his claws digging into the palms of his hands.

"How about you go and FUCK YOURSELF!" he roared, looking up into the High Inquisitor's smug, smiling face.

"Sigh" The old Inquisitor let out a long sigh, shaking his head before turning to the templar.

"Purge him," he ordered.

Without hesitation, the templar set the demi-human ablaze before retreating a few steps back, observing with pride as the holy flames did their job—purifying the heretics, the xenos, the disgusting creatures from the land, and the grace of Uriel.

While this purging took place, at the back of the zealous mob, a woman in a dark robe stood in silence. She stared at the pyre with disgust and hatred in her golden eyes, yet something else lurked deep within her heart—rage and hope.

Slowly, she reached under her robe, placing both hands on her lower abdomen, fingers pressing against the crimson tattoo etched upon her womb. Closing her eyes, she whispered as if mourning, her voice barely a breath against the howling flames:

"May your souls find their peace in the eternal womb of the Mother."