Tyrant? No, I am the Villain
Chapter 40: Night of slaughter

Chapter 40: Night of slaughter

Frejlurd stood motionless after hearing the Baron’s final command. A storm brewed within him as it was a mixture of conviction, fear and a strange relief. The difference between the old leadership of Rammstein and the new had never been clearer.

The former rulers were complacent since they feasted on bribes, fattened their pockets while lowly soldiers like himself to become dogs of the underworld.

Back then, the City Guard were nothing more than lap dogs snarling on their command, tail tucked between legs when criminals gave orders. Frejlurd had once dreamt of being a soldier of justice, a protector of the city. But instead, he had suffered, degraded and used.

Now, things have changed. The new leadership under Baron Estefan Angeras was unlike anything the city had ever seen. The Baron was ruthless, willing to kill thousands, not out of personal pleasure but for a vision. His cause was absolute, defined by blood and order. And in this madness, Frejlurd found purpose again.

He could finally walk the path he had long been denied. No more compromises and no more lies. Yet still the path forward was steeped in blood. Frejlurd was afraid, not of the Baron, but of the truth that to reach peace, he would become a butcher.

Still, he reminded himself that this city was infected. It was full of criminals who had long crossed the line of redemption. Second chances were a luxury for the innocent, not for monsters.

He clenched his fists. He was Commander of the City Guard and it was his duty to uphold law, no matter the cost.

"Is everything alright?" Estefan asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Frejlurd, still grinning unconsciously while staring at the floor, jolted upright. "Apologies, my lord." He said. "I was simply... envisioning the great future this city will have under your rule."

Estefan let out a quiet chuckle. "Then I hope you survive long enough to see that future. The road ahead is soaked in blood. You exist now for one reason, that is to guard this city both inside and out."

Frejlurd stood back up as he saluted before excusing himself towards the door but paused as if remembering something trivial. "Oh, I thought this won’t be important but that corpse we found, the one we suspected to be an assassin. I had someone identify it."

Estefan looked over his shoulder, after hearing those words because he was curious to know who his step mother had sent since the person was weak.

"Turns out it was a low-grade assassin." Frejlurd continued. "A pathetic sort who took on cheap contracts. Barely competent."

Estefan frowned. "So someone sent a weak assassin to kill me?"

"Seems more like someone wanted him dead, not you, my lord." Frejlurd replied.

"A scapegoat?" Estefan offered.

Frejlurd after that conversation left the room to prepare to accomplish his tasks given by Baron Estefan.

After Frejlurd left, Estefan muttered with a bored expression. "My dear stepmother... Still underestimating me. Even after the tournament where I showed you a bit of my strength... Well at least this proves that you are not a threat which I have to fear."

He turned back and snapped his fingers. From the shadows emerged Periyan, the commander of bloodhounds. He appeared cloaked in a dark, misty hood that concealed his entire form. He knelt before Estefan, offering a thick black-bound book.

"I wanted this finished before I took my seat as Baron." Estefan said, opening the book with irritation.

Periyan bowed his head. "The delay, my lord, was due to how widespread our targets were. But we have finished the investigation."

Estefan skimmed the pages. "Hmm?"

"We’ve identified 42,622 unaffiliated criminals within the city, operating independently of Zorthar or Lutis." Periyan said.

Estefan closed the book calmly and stood. "That’s not as much as I thought." He said coldly. "Kill them all... I want their heads displayed in the city square by morning. If the space overflows, stack the rest outside the faction headquarters."

Periyan didn’t move. "And the families nearby? The victims?"

Estefan didn’t hesitate. "Kill them too... If the families sheltered these criminals, they are part of the rot. And broken victims are useless. This city needs survivors, not corpses dragging around trauma."

Periyan nodded. "It shall be done." And with that, the bloodhounds vanished into the shadows.

Nightfall blanketed Rammstein like a funeral shroud. In the southwest slums, the darkness was not a place to sleep, it was where monsters feasted. A woman stumbled through a filthy alley, her voice hoarse, crying for help. Her dress was torn, her legs weak. In front of her stood a naked man, his mouth twisted in a grin of triumph.

No one came as her cries were not heard or more accurately they were ignored. As her cries turned into sounds of someone being defiled.

The woman laid broken, defiled and her life destroyed but he grunted and stood, scanning the alley for something sharp.

He picked up a broken piece of wood and turned toward the woman, who was now bleeding and barely breathing. With a laugh, he thrust the jagged wood into her already bleeding crotch again and again, each scream louder than the last, until silence fell.

He wiped the blood off with his hand, giggling to himself. Then he froze after hearing a sound. It was more like a faint shriek.

He turned quickly, holding the bloodied wood like a weapon. "Who’s there?!"

There was no answer, only the sound of his own shallow breath. Then he noticed something odd. The blood dripped from the wood, the droplet and in it, he saw something.

A reflection of two glowing red eyes. A silhouette with a long, tattered cloak and a face hidden in swirling darkness where only the eyes burned like twin embers of hell.

"Monster!" The man screamed, trembling.

The figure moved forward slowly. And when the man blinked the figure was gone.

He turned instinctively toward the woman he had violated, but he saw her severed head lying on the ground, her eyes still open, tears staining her bloodied cheeks.

It wasn’t him who did that, he did not behead her but what was it? Horrified, he turned back again and the bloodhound was there.

Face to face, near and close they both stood and the man saw his own reflection in the dark being’s eyes. But what he saw was not himself alive but it was his own severed head, falling from his shoulders.

The next moment, he was dead. His head was taken by the bloodhound who vanished after another soul was sent to judgment and this was only one of many.

All across Rammstein, the unaffiliated criminals, those who were rapists, murderers, kidnappers, were being slaughtered left and right in the night. The bloodhounds worked like phantoms, leaving no witness, no survivors. Their targets were marked by sin, and the punishment was always death.

As they took their heads, only headless corpses were left there excluding those who weren’t the actual targets since their heads were left there.

[To be Continued]