The game

The questions echoed in Johnny's mind as the carriage advanced, bringing them closer to the vile creatures.

Heavy chains around the creatures' necks became audible as the carriage approached. They made a metallic noise with every step they took, as if they were bells of agony.

Cecilia also noticed the chains and asked the coachman, "Can they rebel? Is that why they wear those chains?"

The coachman shook his head and said, "No, they cannot rebel. They have no more will, no intelligence, no personality. They are like machines, blindly obeying the orders they receive. They have no fear, no anger, no hope. They have nothing. The chains are just a symbol of their punishment, their submission, their wretchedness."

As they neared their destination, they saw more Excommunicatus in the streets of the Holy Church's chapel, performing various types of work.

Some carried stones, others cleaned the trash, and others pulled carts. They were treated like animals, without respect or compassion. They were the scum of society, the outcasts, the cursed ones. They were the Excommunicatus.

Johnny observed that the Excommunicatus were unable to articulate speech, emitting only unintelligible murmurs. However, their physical strength seemed preserved, or even increased, making them efficient workers. A macabre irony amidst the darkness.

Their bodies were thin and deformed, covered with scars and wounds. They wore torn and dirty clothes, displaying symbols of the Holy Church, such as crosses, rosaries, and stars.

"What horror! How can someone turn into something so repulsive!" said Cecilia.

"What horror! How can someone turn into something so disgusting!" exclaimed Cecilia, covering her nose to escape the nauseating smell emanating from the creatures.

"Notice, boy, our first encounter is far from pleasant; honestly, I hate this smell!" expressed Mia with a grimace of displeasure. Bringing her hand to her nose, she gently pressed it, trying to avoid the unpleasant odor of death.

Johnny took a deep breath; that smell evoked strong memories of his former life on Earth. Any forensic pathologist on that planet was accustomed to the smell of formaldehyde, used to preserve corpses.

The coachman continued guiding the carriage through the narrow and crowded streets of the Holy Church's territory, where he had to constantly dodge the Excommunicatus.

He pointed to a large stone building with a tall tower and a golden cross on top. It was the main church, the headquarters of the Holy Church in the region.

"That's where we're going," he said. "It's the largest and oldest church in the fief, built by the first missionaries who arrived here over four centuries ago. It is the symbol of our faith!"

Cecilia and Johnny were impressed by the grandeur and beauty of the church, contrasting with the hideous Excommunicatus around them.

The carriage approached the entrance of the church, where there was a large marble staircase flanked by two angel statues. At the top of the staircase, there was an iron gate with the coat of arms of the Holy Church.

Johnny entered the church, revisiting the moments of the last time he was there. His heart pulsed with the memory of cosmic horror, called "witness," still vivid in his mind. However, he wondered about the whereabouts of the Excommunicatus; why weren't these creatures present at that time?

The rays of light, filtered through the colored stained glass windows, danced on the church floor, creating an atmosphere filled with nostalgia.

The incense aroma overpowered the smell of formaldehyde, bringing a noticeable relief to the girls.

The two siblings followed Mia, who had already participated in similar events, taking a seat at the back of the imposing cathedral church.

"Mia, what's going to happen now?" asked Cecilia.

"Nothing special, it's the same thing every month!" Mia replied, with a bored tone.

The sound of the trumpet cut through the air like a celestial call, its vibrant and powerful notes reverberating through the church walls, interrupting all parallel conversations, including those of the children.

The heavy doors of the church creaked open, revealing the imposing figure of Lord Kaloch. His dark cloak trailed on the ground, enveloping him in shadows that danced to the rhythm of his steps.

Upon entering, the rays of light filtered through the high windows, highlighting the somber details of Lord Kaloch's countenance. His eyes, deep wells of mystery, seemed to absorb light instead of reflecting it.

The faithful present in the church felt a mixture of fear and curiosity as they witnessed the Lord's arrival. He moved slowly down the central aisle, his dominant presence challenging the serenity of the place.

While the majestic sound of the trumpets filled the space, Lord Kaloch's aura seemed to tint the environment with a dark and enigmatic energy. His presence in the church was like an eclipse, shrouding everything around him in a cloak of darkness and power.

Lord Kaloch continued his journey to the altar, where he stopped and raised his head, looking at the altar as if challenging the gods represented there.

The sound of the trumpets finally ceased, leaving a tense silence hanging in the air. The congregation watched in silence, unable to look away from Lord Kaloch as he stood there.

Johnny let out an involuntary sigh, contemplating the mastery with which Lord Kaloch made an impact and attracted attention as soon as he entered. His charm was palpable, his posture impeccable, and each step seemed choreographed to impress.

After the initial shock that fell upon the faithful witnessing Lord Kaloch's imposing entrance into the church, a murmur of surprise and admiration reverberated through the sacred space. However, in an instant, this murmur transformed into a powerful chant that organically rose from the congregation.

The sound of the chants began to fill the church, initially soft and hesitant, as if the faithful were testing the strength of their own voices. However, as the energy of the chant spread, it became a unified clamor echoing through the centuries-old walls.

"Lord Kaloch! Lord Kaloch!" - the chant echoed, repeated in a cadence resembling an invocation. The voices of the faithful, initially restrained, gained intensity as enthusiasm spread like wildfire in a dry forest.

Lord Kaloch stood, facing away from the crowd, his imposing figure standing out at the altar as he looked at Father Cicero in the pulpit. The fervent energy of the crowd remained focused on the lord, turning him into the epicenter of this cult.

Father Cicero, on the pulpit, could feel the weight of the provocation.

Then, in a moment of subtle satisfaction, a mocking smile appeared on Lord Kaloch's lips.

Lord Kaloch then raised a golden staff, a symbol of his power, and with a strike on the ground, created an invisible wave that swept through the church. The resulting wind snaked through the benches, making the candles tremble and the faithful feel the supernatural presence emanating from that gesture.

The congregation's chant abruptly ceased, giving way to an almost solemn silence as everyone awaited Lord Kaloch's next words. With a calm voice, contrasting with the intensity of the moment, he said, "All hail Adrian Silver, the Inquisitor!"