Surviving as a Witch in a World that Hunts Heretics

Chapter 17 : Chapter 17



Chapter 17 : Chapter 17

Chapter 17

“...Son? My dear little darling, what are you thinking about?”

Stano was forcibly pulled out of his own world by his mother’s voice. He turned his neck in a daze and saw his family all looking at him.

“Ah, n-no, nothing...”

Stano shook his head. Since his skin was rather dark, no one could really tell what his expression was like.

“Oh dear, could it be that you’re sick?”

Lady Banson worriedly touched Stano’s forehead, then touched her own. “Nothing seems wrong?”

“Mother, with little brother’s constitution, I doubt sickness would ever find him.”

His eldest sister Rose laughed. “Maybe he’s fallen for some noble young lady. That would explain why he’s been so absentminded.”

“Ah, really?!”

Lady Banson exclaimed, “Who is it! Who dares steal my lovely son’s heart? I must know!”

“Mother...”

Stano sighed deeply. “Can you not believe everything Rose says? Next time if she claims I’m a homosexual, would you believe that too?”

“Stano.”

Suddenly, Banson’s voice rang out. “The Lord has clearly declared in His teachings that such behavior is forbidden. It is a desecration of the Lord’s grace.”

The battle-hardened head of the family walked in and sat at the main seat. “I know you have a devout heart, so do not ever say such things again.”

“Father, I’m sorry...”

Stano’s voice shrank with fear. He was mischievous and wild, but he was terribly afraid of his father. “Please forgive me.”

“My dear, you’re here!”

Lady Banson flitted to his side like a bird, holding onto his arm. “How are things?”

“Not very optimistic.”

A faint shadow hung between Banson’s brows. He enjoyed his wife’s massage but sighed in a low tone. “Robert has gotten into no small amount of trouble. Not only was he spotted by the city guards, but now he has also been branded as a conspirator by the Church of Intis. Though for now he remains unharmed, still...”

His fist clenched unconsciously. His gaze was like that of a lone wolf. “It’s nothing more than a caged bird’s peace.”

“What should we do...”

Sensing her husband’s mood, Lady Banson sighed as well. “If he’s caught, then Robert...”

“Will be subjected to stake execution.”

Banson said flatly.

Robert was a member of the Banson family, the younger brother of Banson himself. Unlike his elder brother who was famed for his valor and battle achievements, Robert was highly skilled in intelligence gathering.

The Intis Kingdom bordered their nation, and since relations between the two were far from harmonious, mutual espionage was necessary. Robert had naturally thrown himself into such work.

In this world, the stake execution was performed by piercing the ankles and wrists of the condemned with sharp wooden stakes prayed over by the Church. The victim was then shackled and paraded through the streets.

Forcing a crippled body to walk only worsened injuries and pain. Furthermore, the specially treated stakes not only prevented the wounds from healing but also served like salt rubbed in.

The parade lasted until the victim collapsed from exhaustion. Then they would be dragged to the execution platform, where a stake of raw wood was driven into the chest and the body left exposed to the sun until death.

As for the corpse—it was treated casually. After all, it was only a heap of meat.

Stake execution...

Thinking of the gruesome details, the family shuddered. They had indeed witnessed such an execution once before. The condemned had been someone deemed “disrespectful to the doctrine.” Not only disrespectful, but one who had spoken wildly, slandering the Lord. The Church, as the vanguard of justice, naturally punished him with stake execution.

Upon investigation, the man had been found to be an orphan who had, during his upbringing, encountered a Witch and been bewitched—his soul poisoned beyond redemption.

The man’s screams had lasted a full three hours—shrill and miserable, like a vulture with broken wings. By the time he was left to the sun, his wounds had begun to fester, attracting a flock of crows circling about.

Lady Banson had fainted on the spot. Though revived by smelling salts, she was deathly pale, and Banson had immediately taken his family home.

Afterward, both his wife and eldest daughter had fallen ill for quite some time. Blake, being young back then, had been so frightened that he couldn’t sleep without a maid by his side. Even Stano, though outwardly fine, suffered nightmares for a while.

In those dreams, the man’s wails and the cries of crows echoed, terrifying beyond words.

The thought that their own kin might soon face such torture made their faces grim.

“Father, is there really no way to save Uncle?”

Rose asked softly.

“Very difficult.”

Banson exhaled. “The situation is grim. The Church has issued related decrees. All I can do is send a few trusted men to try.”

That was the utmost he could do. The two nations were evenly matched in strength, while the Church, having just completed the “Path of Sanctity,” needed stability to integrate its new members. Thus, it had issued a peace edict.

The exposure of a spy meant he was considered a discarded pawn—abandoned without hesitation.

“But this makes success nearly impossible... they might not even make it past Intis’s border.”

Lady Banson said.

As things stood, Robert Banson being discovered and condemned to stake execution was nearly a foregone conclusion.

The entire dinner passed in silence. No one spoke, only the crisp sound of utensils striking plates.

After the meal, Stano went to study. He knew his father had the habit of sitting there in silence when troubled.

“...”

Seeing his father facing the window, Stano was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Father...”

“What is it?”

Banson turned, looking at the son he had pinned his hopes on.

“Some days ago, I caught a little bird that was injured. It made me think of a question.”

Stano lifted his head. “It was hurt. Left alone, it would surely die. Even if it lived, it might never fly again. But I had a way to save it. Whether it could fly again depended on whether I saved it or not.”

“What you said makes sense. So, what’s the problem?”

Banson nodded. The child was young, but he already had his own thoughts and was beginning to consider such questions.

“I just wanted to know—what’s the difference between saving and not saving it?”

“Mm...”

Banson walked over, gently patted his son’s head. “It’s actually simple. Because you are the one with the ability to save the bird, the difference lies in what you think in your heart. Will you rejoice at seeing a life renewed because of your help, or will you face its death with solemnity, knowing it met the fate all must one day face? That depends on you.”

“No matter what, you won’t be wrong. Because you are my son. Whatever you choose, I believe it will be the right choice.”

“I understand, Father.”

Stano said thoughtfully before leaving.


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