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I was now in the town square. Hallelujah.

Or not.

In the middle of the square, surrounded by kneeling villagers, and sitting on a pointlessly-elaborate, wooden throne: was a young woman with an old hag's face, or an old hag with a young woman's body. Needless to say, it was an unnerving piece of human work, this Madame Vera. She wore very form-fitting, black attire that seemed to be like leather, but had a glossier sheen, and at the joints, black feathers swayed with every movement.

She met my gaze, and raised a brow. She stood up, gestured for the crowd to stand up and make way, as she walked forward, to where I was. "So..." she started, her voice was alluring like the song of a maiden in love, which was disturbing, because she was old enough to be my mother's grandmother, "you are the Null-boy, the child who dares to hide, not one, but two, of my flock."

I showed her grin. Luckily, she was still far away enough, not to see my teeth shaking. "Yes. I am the Big Bad Wolf," I proclaimed, but I was shivering under my skin, for she had released a very intense killing pressure, greater than the nuno golem's.

I bet she could see me shaking now, because she was laughing a very haughty and hyena-ish cackle. "You are a jester, I see," her words seemed to purr in my head, making me wince, inwardly. "Now, Null-boy... do you know why I am very powerful?" she asked like a very pretentious little girl that wanted to reveal her supposed intelligence.

I let out a weak laugh. I could feel my wounds ready to bleed at first chance, under the bandages. "Is it because, you're old? It has to do with age, does it? How old are you, anyway? Pre-Anabasis, or older?"

"Not quite..." she seemed unfazed by my goading. She must be used to it. She was only a few steps away, from me now. Her body was really too seductive for her, um, countenance. "I have this power, because I am blessed by God... Ilum'atar. Salidis: Impas, Anthalin-2m, Kayul," she raised her hand, and a ball of white flame formed over it. "And because of this glorious gift, it is suffice to say, that I am a Harbinger of His Will..." she threw the ball to the crowd, and it grew wide, before imploding in itself, taking those who were caught up in its size to disappear. "Don't you agree?" she smiled.

I looked down, trying to hide the fear in my eyes. fuck. She's a tyrant and she thinks that she's God's champion? Those types of people are hard to handle, even without the tremendous amount of mana, emanating from them. The townsfolk were now scrambling to their homes, or any place they called shelter.

"It seems the might of God was too much for you," she sounded remorseful for a bit, but I didn't look up. I could see that her leather shoes were right in front of me now. "But you are a spawn of the Devil, that should be explanatory, enough," she placed her dainty fingers under my chin, greatly disturbing me, and lifted my face up, so she could look me in the eye, "A pity that you are quite easy on the eyes, and I must admit, your glasses are a bit enticing, but I do not mingle with hellspawn. A pity, really."

I wanted to tell her that only dinosaurs found her appealing, but in an instant, a pain equal to that of the nuno golem's fist, exploded in my chest, and I was flung backwards, before I was toppled into a stone statue of one Dr. José Protasio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda (June 19, 1861 - December 30, 1896). Apparently, he was a revolutionary back in the day, when the Spaniards ruled.

My back was hurting. I may have dislocated a disc - again! -, and below my armpits were the hands of the statue, in an outstretched palm gesture. I stood up, thanking Mr. Rizal for stopping my velocity, and for his contributions to our country.

I was still heaving, as I stood up. I think my ribs broke again. I wanted to run away, but again, in an instant, I found myself hurtling backwards, and coughing a trail of blood. The pain more than doubled as it gripped my body. I couldn't even fight back, a sad thing for one who fights.

I was lying on what was once a good house, and now was a pile of rubble. I was barely conscious. Every inch of my body was screaming for me to die. I looked up, and saw Madame Vera floating a few feet above me, her right arm stretched upwards.

"You were rejected by God's gift..." her words rang clear on my head, must've been magic, "and you shall die by His gift. Ereb'atar. Salidis: Valad, Anthalin-1.5m id Iril-Asar-uk-Darak, Lisarus id Malakan." And with her words, the sky seemed to darken, and a great, black pillar of misty flame descended, slowly. Is this the time, I really die?

The pillar was now close. It touched my chest, and I was bathed in what I felt was fire. My mind was being torn apart, at the seams. It felt like my blood was boiling me from within, and in every direction of my psyche, a torrent of needles assaulted me. I coughed, and coughed, and coughed, with expulsion of air, bringing out blood. It felt like my bones were melting. I could not scream, but luckily, the onlookers were doing it for me.

"Omis, Erun!" those words, which were not Madame Vera's, resounded through my ears, and I could not feel pain in my mind anymore, or in my legs, or in my arms, or in my anything, really. All I felt was a warm embrace, before I blacked out.

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