Authors note

Indeed, this chapter is even later than yesterday - three hours late for the "new day-deadline".

The story is taking a darker turn now - one can only sustain so much before you have to change.

I also sharpened up on where things are going now. Enjoy the brutality.

I'm barely doing the quota for today, but I planned ahead a bit more, making sure my story is aiming the right way along the way.

PG 18 [Excessive violence] - I'm not joking when I said it was for mature audience on the summary page. Consider yourself warned.

Word count

This chapter: 1670

Total: 12697

---------------------------------------------

Aitken awoke when the wooden door to the manor slowly creaked open.

It was dark, the stars twinkled in the night sky, and the moon illuminated the entire town in a soft light.

Akane was standing in the doorframe, staring down into the floor, clenching her dagger so hard the white was showing on her knuckles.

Aitken stared at his sister, for a brief moment, before she started a slow walk towards him.

He looked up at her, from just in front of her, realizing her eyes were red from crying.

Is mom de-

Akane swung her dagger at Aitken, who stumbled backwards, barely dodging it. She looked directly at Aitken. “You killed her, you and your damn concoction.” Her eyes filled with a grim mixture of hatred and sorrow. “Die, you and your entire kind. You should all just die!” She swung her dagger again, fueled by an incredible rage, slicing Aitken across the forehead.

Aitken felt a deep sorrow in his heart. As he pondered this, Akane’s dagger cut lightly into his arm when he failed to dodge properly. She swung again and again, but Aitken kept dodging, a bit more focused than before.

Aitken turned and started running. He could not fight his sister, but neither could he allow himself to be killed by her - not until all the guilty had suffered.

A series of sharp turns designed to throw Akane off did not fulfill their purpose - in parts due to her speed being greater than his.

He ran into the manor, and jumped over furniture, with her following closely. He jumped over a table, but Akane saw the opportunity to ram the dagger into his tail. A deep orange rift was cut about a quarter of the way into the tail, leaving a trail of demon blood in his wake, but Aitken kept going. He jumped out a window and ran around some bushes. She followed him. As Aitken turned around a corner he stood still.

When Akane passed by, he extended his leg and tail, and she fell to the ground in front of him. He dashed around a second corner and smashed a window, only to hide in a bush.

Akane took the bait - she went into the house once more, with her eyes darting around looking for him.

Aitken hid in the dark of the night, and ran off towards the woods, away from his sister. There was nothing he could do right now, even if he wanted to. His presence would only do more harm than good.

After running for quite a while, even nearing the church once more, he crawled into a tree.

He pulled out the potato from his backpack.

“Potato… What do you think I should do?”

He stared at the black potato for a while, not getting any answer. “Potato…”

He put the potato away, and sat alone for a while with his thoughts. He thought about all the happy times with his family, all the sad times… His thoughts shifted to the church, and how they might have been the perpetrators behind it all.

Aitken pulled out the potato once more.

“Potato… Do you think I should take revenge? That’s the only right thing to do, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I will do… I’ll take revenge. For my father, my mother… For how my sister has suffered. The entire church of light will suffer… Starting with the specific church that is the most guilty of it.”

For a brief moment, he thought he saw the potato shine brighter than it had before. Then he packed it away.

His eyes narrowed a bit and he grit his teeth. “The guilty will suffer. I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all. Starting with their leader.”

He looked at his battered wings, and all his cuts and bruises. “But first things first, I’ll fix myself up. Then I’ll kill them… No, I’ll loot their church, then I will kill them.”

Aitken clenched his fists for a brief moment, before packing the potato into his bag once more, heading straight for the church one last time.

He arrived outside the church, this time on the opposite side than the forest. He stared at the small windows high up the complex.

This shall be my entrance.

He walked up to the church, and crawled up the stone wall, peeking in at every single window. He saw a dark room filled with shelves with vials and bandages and different herbs. He carefully maneuvered around the window, peeking in everywhere, making sure the room was empty before he slowly squeezed his way through the narrow window.

He browsed through the shelves.

Bandage, Healing salve, flammable liquid and some long metal nails from the cupboards and few candles… That should be all I can use from here.

He packed the transparent jars of liquid into his backpack, as well as the candles.

He rolled out a coarse piece of cloth, wrapping it around his forehead and another for his arm.

Now, the salve.

Aitken dipped his finger into the salve.

Good, It doesn’t hurt me, so I guess it’s not harmful to me.

He smeared the salve onto his tattered wings, then poked the broken horn.

Will this heal? Ah, well. Won’t hurt to put this stuff on.

He packed the rest of the salve and the few remaining bandages into his backpack.

Now, I should be on my way to being in better shape… Next point - revenge.

Aitken once more inspected the roof from inside. Straw, as well as wooden support beams. He crawled outside, onto the top of the roof, spending the night observing - he had time, but not the luxury of messing up. Nothing much happened at night - the guards didn’t even stand around outside - possibly from the fear of a night-time ambush. They might be standing just inside, behind barred doors.

The entire next day went with scouting their daily routines. He listened from on top of the roof, carefully. Their leader was a priestess, and she slept in her own room. After further observation he realized she was sleeping in a room with a window - mostly due to the fact that all the rooms on the top floor had windows, and she was indeed on the top floor.

He heard an imp scream, and saw a troop of guards run for the forest.

Ah, today was that day. Less guards he had to handle himself - that was helpful.

He patiently awaited the return of all the guards. They ran inside and barred the doors.

Perfect, if there would be any survivors, they will blame this on the witch.

Aitken slipped down on the front side of the church, Bending several of the long metal nails around the rings for pulling open the double-door entrance. Likewise, he did the same in the back side, after making sure the grey witch did not approach the church.

Aitken went to the room he had observed their priestess was located at, carefully peeking in. She was dressing up for battle, putting on a thick robe. Perfect.

You will suffer for what you did.

Aitken grabbed a jar of flammable liquid in one hand, and a candle in the other.

He carefully squeezed his way into her room, and lit his own candle on a candle placed on the wall just inside the window. He proceed to lob the jar onto the priestess.

Splosh.

She was soaked in the liquid, and turned around with a deep glare.

“An imp? I’ll smite you.” She lifted her hand, but in that moment the lit candle flew at her.

The liquid caught on fire, and she combusted into a living torch, spitting fire all the way to the very roof and support beams over her head.

She howled and rolled around on the floor, as Aitken slowly approached.

“This is for having your lackeys throw holy water on me.” He drew his rusty sword and in one swing, her arm was cut off, and she screamed in pain.

“...And this is for my family.”

He swung his sword, impaling her throat. She gurgled in her own blood as the fire burnt her skin to black crisp.

Aitken stared for a brief moment, before he crawled out of the window as fast as he could, just barely snatching the wall-mounted candle on the way. He threw jar after jar onto the roof and lit it on fire.

Finally, he snapped the candle in half and lit both ends, dropping a jar and a flaming candle at each entrance to the church, spreading a wildfire around both exists.

Aitken leisurely climbed down the church - after all, he did not mind a little warmth from a fresh fire.

Soon after, horrible screams and rattling with the gates resounded. The gates held up, and the flames and smoke slowly seeped out through the small cracks.

Soon after, a silence fell on the church. Only the gentle crackling of the burning building could be heard. Smoke rose in a great cloud, that could be seen all the way in the capital.

Aitken headed towards the forest - but the part of the forest away from the gray witch and the place he had been unsummoned. He meant to disappear from the site, leaving all the potential reinforcement to ponder what happened.

He turned around and marveled at what he had done - the entire local church, and everybody inside of it had been burnt to death.

A small smirk spread on his face, and he felt a small measure of satisfaction from the revenge he had dished out.

Now it was time to heal back up. It was time to figure out a plan to hurt the church, before they spread their plague somewhere else it would hurt him. He couldn’t fight them directly all alone. He was not as strong as in the fairytales, where the hero would battle all evil, gods and dragons with nothing but a sword and a glistening armour - no, he would simply have to improvise his way to victory.

He pulled forth the potato from his backpack.

“Look what we have done.” he smiled, for the first time in a while. It was not a smile of happiness, but a smile of twisted satisfaction. “Together, we can defeat the church. One by one, they will all fall before us.”

Now onward, to the downfall of the church.

---------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading!