The great square of Benling had seen countless celebrations—grand festivals, victorious parades, and joyful gatherings. But tonight, there was only silence, a suffocating stillness that clung to the air like the stench of blood.
The cobblestone ground was damp from the light drizzle that had started earlier in the evening, yet the cold did nothing to wash away the overwhelming sense of dread that settled over the gathered crowd.
Thousands of citizens stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces pale as they watched the wooden execution platform at the center of the square. Large torches had been set up around it, their flickering flames casting grotesque shadows over the prisoners kneeling at its center.
Elara, barely able to keep herself upright, knelt at the front. Her wrists were bound behind her back with iron shackles, her once beautiful silver hair now stained with blood and dirt. Her friend, another woman who had shared in her suffering, knelt beside her, trembling. Behind them, the rest of Ainz's captured friends knelt in a line, their faces bruised, their eyes hollow.
The Commander of the Organization, a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in black armor, stepped forward onto the platform. His golden cloak billowed slightly from the wind, his steel boots clanking ominously as he approached the captives.
He turned to face the crowd, his voice enhanced by a magical amplification crystal.
"People of Benling! Tonight, justice shall be served!"
His voice boomed across the square, commanding the attention of every soul present.
"These traitors, these filthy spies, have sided with the enemy! They have conspired with the demon king of Pranimzean, threatening our kingdom's future! But worry not, for the righteous hand of our great organization shall strike them down!"
His words echoed, but no cheers followed. The citizens of Benling remained silent. They had heard the propaganda, they had been told that Elara and the others were spies, that they had betrayed their home… but deep down, they knew the truth.
Yet, none of them dared to speak out.
They had seen what happened to those who defied the organization.
A sharp clank broke the silence as the executioner stepped forward, dragging a massive, gleaming battle-axe behind him. He wore a leather mask that covered his entire face, his towering figure making him look more like a monster than a man.
Elara, though weak and exhausted, lifted her head.
Her violet eyes, once filled with warmth, were now cold and unwavering. Even in the face of death, she refused to kneel in fear.
The commander approached her, grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her to look at him.
"Even now, you still resist?" he sneered.
"Your suffering could have ended long ago, had you simply obeyed."
Elara, despite her bruises, smiled.
"You are all fools," she whispered, her voice hoarse yet sharp as a dagger.
"You think you've won? You think this will end here?"
The commander's expression darkened.
"You still believe that demon will save you?"
Elara chuckled weakly, blood dripping from her lips.
"No… but I do know one thing."
She looked straight into his eyes.
"He will not forgive you."
The commander growled, slapping her across the face, sending her collapsing onto the bloodstained floor.
"Enough of this!" he roared. "Begin the execution!"
The executioner stepped forward, raising his massive axe high into the air.
Elara, still on the ground, closed her eyes.
She thought of Ainz.
She thought of his warm smile, his gentle touch, the way he laughed during their nights spent together.
She thought of the promise he made to always protect her.
"I'm sorry, Ainz…" she whispered. "I wanted to see you one last time."
The axe fell.
SCHLACK!
A sickening sound rang through the air.
A single moment of silence.
And then—her head rolled onto the wooden platform, her violet eyes staring lifelessly toward the sky.
A collective gasp ran through the crowd, though none dared to cry out. Some turned away, others trembled, but all knew—this was only the beginning.
Her friend screamed, her voice filled with terror as she was yanked forward.
"No! No, please, I don't want to die!"
Tears streamed down her swollen face as she struggled, her body weak from starvation and abuse.
The executioner ignored her pleas.
"Please…!" she sobbed.
The axe fell again.
Another body collapsed. Another life stolen.
The execution continued.
Ainz's male friends were brought forth one by one. Some spat at the executioner's feet, cursing the organization until their final breath.
"Ainz will come for you!" one of them shouted. "He will burn this place to the ground!"
The commander smirked, looking out over the terrified citizens.
"Let him come."
The executioner raised the axe again, and another head fell.
By the time it was over, the wooden platform was drenched in blood.
Bodies lay scattered, discarded like garbage, their deaths serving as nothing more than a warning to those who would dare to question the organization.
The commander turned back to the silent crowd, raising his arms victoriously.
"Let this be a lesson! The Demon King and his followers will perish! We will cleanse this world of their filth!"
The torches around the square burned brightly, casting long shadows over the blood-stained execution stage.
The people of Benling did not cheer.
They remained silent.
Some wept quietly, others clenched their fists.
But in that moment, the organization had made a fatal mistake.
They had created a nightmare that would soon come for them.
Ainz was still unaware of what had happened.
But when he returned…
There would be no mercy.