The moment Ash's eyes landed on the blood tyrant, he felt as if standing in front of a raging storm. Beads of sweat formed over his brows as every fiber of his being begged him to run away.
Ignoring his instincts, Ash tried to calm himself down, though it was easier said than done.
"Come here!"
A calm yet authoritative voice roared in the surroundings, and Ash felt his legs moving on their own. Stopping right beside the blood tyrant, he looked at the shadow.
"Lift your head."
Ash finally took a normal breath, lifted his head, and observed the tyrant.
The very first thing he noticed was how pale his skin was. It almost looked like there was no blood flowing inside of him. His eyes were dark crimson with black rings surrounding the pupils.
The man appeared in his forties, yet his head was adorned with long black hair streaked with silver-red strands.
While Ash was observing the tyrant, his fellow cultist whimpered, asking for forgiveness.
"Please forgive me, sire... I—"
Before they could continue showing their pathetic side, a commanding voice rang.
"Silence."
The words fell upon them like a mountain, sealing their tongues on the spot.
"Now... I will ask you each a question. Reply truthfully or die. No nonsense, nothing. Do you understand?"
They didn't have any options other than nodding their heads.
"Now, first you,"
Pointing toward the cultist who was in the opposite direction—the furthest left side— of Ash and asked.
"How many people did you sacrifice?"
It was a simple question but hardly a simple answer. After pausing for a moment, the cultist replied, sniffling like a little child.
"We sacrificed only ten people today!"
Ash was impressed by the audacity of the cultist who had added "only" before the ten… but seeing the tyrant didn't show any reaction, he remained silent as well.
Moving forward, Tiglath pointed toward the cultist beside him and asked,
"When did you join the cult?"
Although asked a simple question, the man appeared flustered; his pupils began dilating quickly while he took rapid, deep breaths.
He knew death was near him, so he decided to beg for mercy.
"No... no. I don't want to die. I only joined because they promised food for my family. The famine left us nothing. We had no choice–"
Boom!!
Before he could finish speaking, the cultist's head burst apart with a violent boom.
The black ring around his pupil flashed crimson for a moment as the blood, instead of scattering everywhere, began gathering into a sphere.
With a thump, the body dropped to the ground, its blood violently drained away from it. The blood soon flowed into the flask that the tyrant had hung around his hips.
'Shit!' Cursing his luck, Ash felt the ground beneath his feet disappear. Like the blood, he felt life sucking out of him.
'Psychopaths… all of them are freaking psychopaths; can't they have a simple conversation like some gentlemen. I mean, the cultists aren't exactly gentlemen, so to say, but still…'
Thoughts wandered in his head as Ash found himself in an even worse situation than that of those other cultists.
If they were truthful, there was a chance of them being left alone, but in his case, there was nothing to tell. He couldn't remember anything about the cult, and if he were to lie, the result was right in front of him.
'Does he have a method to know if one lies or not?'
While Ash pondered the answer, the blood tyrant moved to the next cultist.
"Did you enjoy it. Did you enjoy killing and reaping the innocent lives and presenting them to your honourable god for a little reward? Do you think it is right?"
He questioned, and to Ash's surprise, the cultist curled up his lips, chuckling to himself.
"Hahah! I did... Tiglath. I did very much so. At least, my god, give if we offer something to him. What had this kingdom ever done to me... I spent all my life giving it... in exchange... in exchange for what? poverty. Not even able to fill my stomach."
Lifting his head, the cultist looked directly into his eyes and sneered.
"Don't try to be a pillar of nobility now. They might not be aware, but I know the river of blood you have sipped to reach here."
Saying these words, the cultist closed his mouth, waiting for the repercussion.
Ash was sure that his head would burst any moment, but nothing like that ever happened.
"What is your name?"
The blood tyrant asked him his name. There was no anger or resentment apparent on his face.
"Minner."
Smiling, Tiglath stood from his seat and took a stroll in the garden. Bending down, he touched a flower to pluck it out. Resting in his hand, the flower lost its luster.
"You are right, Minner!! I did that and many more things. But do you know the difference between you and me? I have the strength. Do you think killing those ten people was your sin?"
"Hahah!! No, no... this King kills far more on a daily basis."
Suddenly, the blood that had flown into his flask entered the flower's stem, bringing it back to life.
"No... your sin is being weak. And weakness is something I disgust wholeheartedly. Still, I will commend you for being truthful today. Let the court decide your sentence."
Patting Minner on the shoulder, the blood tyrant sat on the swing and looked at Ash. Caressing the flower in his hand, Tiglath asked,
"Tell me, why did you join the cult?"
Now that it was his turn, Ash was calm; he had seen the outcome for every type of response. There was nothing more to fear, so looking straight in his eyes, he replied in a trembling voice.
"I don't know. I can't remember anything… nor the reason for my joining the cult. Neither the reason for believing in the god."
Hearing this answer, Tiglath frowned. For a split second, he glanced at the ring he wore on his middle finger; there was no response from it.
Looking at Ash in confusion, he nodded.
"It appears you are right!"