The settlement was now entirely engulfed by the dark flames. The trapped peasants thought only of escaping as fast as their legs could carry them, completely abandoning whatever meager wealth they possessed within their homes.
Yet, these dark flames seemed to possess a conscious intent. Every villager who attempted to flee found themselves instantly surrounded by the fire, reduced to ash within the blink of an eye. Conversely, those who remained huddled inside the perimeter managed to keep their lives.
The flames did not seem intent on incinerating them all immediately; instead, the fire systematically consumed every edible scrap of grain within the settlement, surrounding the locals to leave them to slowly starve.
Staring at the villagers trembling amidst the wall of fire, even the furious Talulah could guess the exact horrors these people would face. They were destined to endure a living hell that mirrored the very atrocities they had inflicted on others.
Yet, even Talulah felt zero inclination to voice any objection. The crimes committed by these people were so utterly monstrous that they defied any possibility of forgiveness.
Furthermore, the fire blazed with the accumulated malice and agony of the victims they had murdered. She had zero right to ask the dead to show mercy, a feat that, at the very least, the current Talulah was entirely incapable of doing.
"Let us go," Talulah murmured, completely losing interest in watching the spectacle. She wanted nothing more than to return to her quarters and find some peace in isolation.
Jeanne glanced at the besieged villagers, then looked at the downcast Draco beside her. Ignoring the desperate pleas for mercy echoing from the flames, she turned and departed alongside Talulah.
"Wait! You cannot simply leave us like this!"
"Exactly! Dispel the flames! Do you truly intend to slaughter an entire settlement?"
"We admit we were wrong to harm your people, alright? Don't be so utterly heartless!"
...
Realizing the leaders intended to abandon them, the villagers descended into sheer panic. They understood with certainty that if this continued, their deaths would be unimaginably miserable.
Yet, they felt zero remorse for their past actions. To their minds, they had merely utilized a few infected outcasts to elevate their own standard of living. In the grand expanse of Ursus, was that not a thoroughly ordinary practice?
Brainwashed by the cruel traditions of the empire, they viewed the infected in the exact same light as the high imperial nobles did—treating them as lesser entities, deriving a warped sense of superiority from trampling others beneath their boots.
"It seems you remain completely blind to the true nature of your crimes. In that case, there is zero purpose in continuing this conversation."
Jeanne's gaze turned freezing cold. She spared the pleading crowd one final, detached look before looking away. These individuals were thoroughly beyond redemption, nothing more than wretched scoundrels incapable of basic self-reflection.
Then again, the blame did not rest entirely on their shoulders alone. They were merely products of a broken Ursus philosophy, brainwashed to a point where change was impossible—or rather, they simply harbored zero desire to change.
To force outcasts who were previously viewed as lower than slaves to stand on equal footing with them was a reality these status-obsessed peasants could never accept.
Therefore, forcing them to drink the bitter vintage of hatred brewed by their own wicked deeds was the most fitting retribution. No matter how agonizing the process, it could never outweigh their sins.
Hearing the cold detachment in Jeanne's tone, the villagers fell silent, their eyes burning with deep resentment as they stared at the black-clad maiden who had unleashed the inferno.
"You... you witch!" sudden defiance flared as a man within the crowd glared venomously at the dark girl, spitting the word through gritted teeth.
"Witch! A cursed witch!"
The label seemed to ignite a spark among the desperate crowd. They began hurling the title at Jeanne in unison, as though branding her an evil entity could somehow transform them into righteous warriors defending their homes, while Jeanne was merely a monster who deserved to be burned at the stake.
Jeanne remained entirely unfazed by the vitriol. Talulah, however, immediately gripped her sword, filled with a sudden urge to sever the tongues of these peasants for daring to insult her companion.
In the language of Ursus, "witch" was an exceptionally foul slur. Within a derogatory context, it carried far vaster malice than ordinary insults aimed at women, representing the most venomous condemnation one could utter.
To witness these wretched peasants hurl such filth at her companion—a person of truly noble character—drove Talulah to demand a proper measure of vengeance on her behalf.
However, Jeanne raised a hand to stay her weapon. Jeanne's dark-gold eyes surveyed the chanting crowd, the familiar insults awakening a few unpleasant memories buried deep within her past.
She was naturally displeased, yet she saw through their strategy. These peasants were deliberately attempting to provoke her, hoping to goad her into killing them cleanly in a fit of rage to grant them a swift release from their slow doom.
"You call me a witch? What a thoroughly convenient label to cast upon others. Anyone who refuses to bow to your whims is deemed a witch, is that it?"
Jeanne's gaze swept across the crowd, her dark-gold eyes projecting an intangible pressure that instantly choked the words in their throats, forcing them to lower their heads in silence.
"If you wish to view me as a witch, so be it. When you descend into the abyss of Hell, feel free to inform the Devil that the one who sent you there was the Dragon Witch. Tell him I look forward to our eventual meeting."
Jeanne's mocking rejoinder plunged the villagers into utter despair. They realized she had zero intention of granting them a merciful end, and they currently lacked the raw courage to end their own lives.
Driven to madness, they began screaming every imaginable obscenity at Jeanne, their words flying like jagged blades intended to pierce her psychological defenses. They sought any reaction—be it an outburst of wrath or a display of execution—anything to end the agonizing wait.
To their immense frustration, Jeanne possessed an unshakeable resolve against such tactics. Their vile words failed to register as a blow against her spirit; they were merely the pathetic barking of cornered beasts.
Until Jeanne's form fully vanished beyond the wall of fire surrounding the settlement, they failed to chip away at her composure. Instead, it was Talulah who walked away thoroughly infuriated, though the Draco remained remarkably obedient to her companion's guidance.
The moment the group crossed the threshold of the settlement, a chorus of agonized wails—sounding partly human and partly bestial—echoed from the burning structures, as though a pack of literal monsters were tearing each other apart within.
Whether these parasites would eventually be reduced to ash by the flames, turn upon one another for sustenance, or simply rot away in starvation depended entirely on how the lingering spirits of the dead chose to exact their price.
"Your capacity to endure such insults is remarkable. If I had been subjected to that filth, I would have executed them on the spot," Talulah murmured, casting a frustrated glance at Jeanne, still slightly annoyed that she had been held back.
"There is zero reason to waste your energy on their account. Attempting to reason with individuals of that caliber will never yield a meaningful conclusion," Jeanne replied, waving her hand as a wave of weariness washed over her spirit.
If the entirety of Ursus was populated by individuals such as these, their dream of reconciling the infected and the uninfected would face an impossible climb. Such populations were nothing short of hidden explosives.
Given the slightest spark, they would detonate, unleashing a massive tide that would instantly wash away their progress like a castle built upon the sand.
"I am not angry for my own sake, they were insulting you... fine, I admit I am furious. It makes me question whether the path we are walking is truly correct."
Talulah confessed her sudden doubt. Witnessing the depravity of these villagers forced her to wonder how many more hidden communities across the empire harbored the exact same malice. If such hatred was widespread, could their revolution ever truly succeed?
"Never doubt your path, Talulah! Anyone else in our movement can afford to waver, but as our leader, you are the one person who must never harbor such uncertainty!"
Jeanne's expression turned remarkably stern as she locked eyes with the Draco, catching Talulah completely by surprise.
"Once you have dedicated yourself to a core philosophy, do not allow it to be easily shaken—unless the foundation itself is proven false. To waver now would create fractures among the fighters who stand by your side."
"Our immediate task is to unite those who willingly choose to follow our banner. We cannot expect to win over the entire land overnight. For the rest of the world, we must trust the steady passage of time to reshape reality."
Jeanne's words carried a profound warmth, lifting the suffocating weight that had settled over Talulah's heart. The Draco's eyes reclaimed their bright clarity, and she offered a firm, resonant nod of agreement.
"You are right. Let us focus on uniting those who truly wish to walk alongside us."